Take Me To Church

Take me to Church
Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at

http://archiveofourown.org/works/16558676.
Rating:
Explicit
Archive Warning:
Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Category:
M/M
Fandom:
One Direction (Band)
Relationship:
Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Luke Hemmings/Ashton Irwin
Character:
Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson, Liam Payne, Niall Horan, The Styles
Family, The Tomlinson Family, Original Female Character(s), Ashton
Irwin, Luke Hemmings
Additional Tags:
Homophobia, closeting, Religion, Coming Out, Angst, Fluff, theological
discussions, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Suicidal Thoughts, Internalized
Homophobia, Misogyny, Secret Relationship, Homophobic Language,
Smut, First Time, First Kiss, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Anal Sex,
Anal Fingering, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Time Blow Jobs, Alternate
Universe - High School, Slow Burn, Panic Attacks, Anxiety, imperfect
characters, Dry Humping, Underage Drinking, character injury, Facials,
Semi-Public Sex, pinning, Bullying, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming,
thigh fucking, 69 (Sex Position), Body Worship, Barebacking, conversion
camp, Happy Ending, Relgious discussions, Religious Conflict, Religious
Imagery & Symbolism, Religious Guilt, why is it so hot in the chapel,
Hate to Love, Enemies to Lovers, Enemies to Friends, Hurt/Comfort
Collections:
EliteLS
Stats:
Published: 2018-11-08
Completed: 2019-08-10
Chapters: 42/42
Words: 414331
Take me to Church
by wickedarcher_08
Summary
Louis is the new kid at school in Bible Belt, USA, who is fascinated by
the quiet kid that seems to be an outcast. It takes everything in his
arsenal to break the walls of Harry Styles down. Harry has a troubled
past that has lead him to go against everything Louis thought he
believed. Louis sees something brokenly beautiful in Harry, and Harry
finds the stability he has longed for in Louis. After many
conversations, Louis makes a confession that could cost them
everything.
___________
No masters or kings when the ritual begins

There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin
In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene
Only then I am human
Only then I am clean
Amen, Amen, Amen
Notes
Special thanks to my amazing friends Zoe and Taylor please click their
names to visit their Ao3 pages and check out their stories. They are
both amazing people and even better friends. I don’t know where I
would be or this story would be without them. Also special shoutout to
Dana for being my guinea pig and reading this as well.
There is also a Spotify Playlist that will be updated weekly with the
songs represented as chapter titles as well as any other songs I feel fit
with the emotions/theme of the chapter.
Thank you all for reading this, please note this is not meant to offend
and pay attention to the tags! For those who don’t know, I have a
degree in Religious Studies as well as an upbringing in a strict
southern baptist household, so all of the theological discussions in this
fic are factual and a lot of what happens to them, happen every single
day.
Welcome to my Life
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Do you ever feel like breaking down?
Do you ever feel out of place?
Like somehow you just don't belong
And no one understands you- Simple Plan
Louis sighs as he looks in the mirror, debating about whether or not he

should change his outfit for a third time. The first day of school is always
nerve wracking, but adding the extra stress of it being his first day at a new
school and his senior year, it’s downright nauseating. Being an Army brat,
he should be used to this by now, but he isn’t. It never gets easier. He has
been to five different high schools alone, not to mention middle schools.
He remembers when his mom married Mark. He was happy for her. She
seemed happy, and it meant he was getting a new dad. He had no idea, at
the time, that he would be ripped away from all of his friends and
everything he held dear. All of the schools and faces over the years have
just kind of blended together, no one really standing out. He never allowed
himself to even get attached to anyone. He is so excited to go to college
next fall, so that maybe, just maybe, he can finally lay roots down. Have
actual friends that he won’t have to leave in a couple of months. He can
dream.
He takes a deep breath, checking out his appearance again. He glances at

the clock knowing his mother will call him down to breakfast any minute
now. He pulls at his shirt, not knowing what exactly the kids at his new
school would be wearing. He then runs small fingers through his brown
hair, going for a somewhat messy look.
“Louis! Time for breakfast!” His mom shouts from downstairs, just like he
knew she would. He hates it. He has to be down to breakfast at exactly the
same time every single day. His mom and step-dad are somewhat
controlling. Well, his step-dad really, his mom just tries to keep the peace.
He stares at his reflection again, hoping that he wouldn’t stand out at this
new school. He just wants to blend in until he is moved to the next location.
Who knows, maybe this time, he would get to stay an entire school year.
“Louis William Tomlinson, don’t make your mother ask you again!” Mark’s
booming voice travels up the stairs in into his room, making Louis wince.
“Yeah, sorry! I’m coming,” He calls back, turning and leaving his room,
going down stairs. He walks into the kitchen, where they always eat
breakfast, to find his four sisters, mother, and Mark all already sat around
the table.
“‘Bout time, Lou. You know we aren’t allowed to eat until everyone is
down here, and we say grace. I’m starving,” Lottie moans. If Louis wasn’t
in front of their parents, he would flip her off, but instead he just rolls his
eyes and plops down in the open chair, avoiding Mark’s glare.
Everyone holds hands as Mark begins, “Heavenly Father, thank you for
allowing us to wake up this morning and thank you for this meal. We thank
you for our health and happiness. In Jesus name we pray. Amen.”
It’s the same every morning, so Louis mumbles his ‘Amen’ and starts eating
right away, trying to avoid the small talk with his family if at all possible.
No such luck, though.
“I signed you up for football,” his mom starts, glancing in his direction. He
barely stops himself from rolling his eyes, knowing Mark would chastise
him for it.
“Why?” Louis asks, through gritted teeth. He kinda likes the sport itself,
always being an active person, but he hates having to leave his team once
Mark gets relocated. He would rather just avoid it all together.
“Because it is a good way to make friends, and it is a safe after school

activity for you to take part in,” his mom answers easily, her tone leaving
no room for argument.
“Fine,” Louis grumbles looking down at his plate of food, suddenly not
hungry.
“First practice is today, after school. You’re father talked to the coach
yesterday since you already missed two-a-days, but he is willing to let you
play given you prove your skills. Don’t forget about it. We expect you home
right after,” she says, and Louis knows . Of course he knows, he has had the
same rule since he was a child. How dare he try to do anything fun after
school that isn’t school sponsored? He has never been to a school dance
because his parents fear that he may get drunk or lose his virginity. Their
stupid rules didn’t do them any good though, because he has already lost his
virginity and been drunk.
“I know, Mom,” Louis tells her, suppressing yet another eye roll. Jesus, he
will be lucky to make it through breakfast without getting grounded.
“Oh, and join your school’s Bible Club,” Mark adds, pointing one chubby
finger at Louis.
“Sure,” Louis answers robotically because he is just done with this already,
and he hasn’t even gone to school. He manages to evade the rest of the
conversation, his parent’s attention going to that of his little sisters. After he
forces down enough food to appease his mother, he practically runs out the
door and to his car, silently praying that no one from his family stops him.
He lets out a sigh of relief when he is safely in his car, the door slamming
behind him.
He pulls out his school schedule, glancing over it to see what he has first
period. Choir. Fuck . Must be one of those stupid general courses every
high school student has to take. Why couldn’t it be art or something? The
rest of the classes seem fine. Looks like he is in Honors courses at this high
school. His eyes rove down the list of courses: Physics, Chemistry, Pre-
Calculus, Spanish, English, Creative Writing, and a free period.
He takes a deep breath before he puts the car into gear, making his way
towards the location of the high school. It is a very small town, so the high
school is equally as small. Hick-town USA it seems, where everyone knows
everyone, and when a new person walks in, it’s deathly quiet as they all
stare in the direction of the new person. When his mom enrolled him, she
had said he would only have about 100 people in his entire class. That
almost makes this worse. In bigger schools, it’s easy to blend in. Smaller
schools are a whole different universe. Everyone knows everyone, so, when
a new kid comes along, that person is easily identifiable. This thought
makes Louis feel sick all over again.
He parks his car in the student parking section of the lot and takes a few
more calming breaths, trying to slow his racing heart before he steps onto
the pavement. Like he does with all new schools, once he leaves the safety
of his vehicle, he keeps his eyes down and starts walking, not wanting to be
met with the staring and pointing that inevitably happens with ‘the new
kid’. He only glances up to follow the signs for the main office, which is
where he was told to go.
“Hi. I’m a new student here,” Louis tells the older lady at the front desk.
She is wearing red thick rimmed glasses with red lipstick to match. She
smiles, and Louis notices a few lipstick spots on her teeth. He hair is also
red and teased up. The higher the hair, the closer to heaven, he supposes.
She looks like she just strolled out of the 80s.
“Lewis Tomlinson?” She asks, thick southern accent prominent as she types
something into her computer that looks about as old as her. Well maybe not
that old, but still not as high tech as it could be.
“It’s actually Louis,” he corrects, rolling his eyes. He is so used to people

getting his name wrong, but it will always annoy him just a bit.
“Oh, I’m sorry, darlin’,” she apologizes, smiling again, her lipstick dotted
yellow teeth looking even more stained in contrast to the redness of the
makeup.
“It’s okay, ma’am,” He answers politely, beginning to tap his fingers on the
surface of her desk, needing a release for his nervous energy.
“Okay,” She stands up from her desk, and for the first time, Louis notices
she is also wearing something that looks like it is from the 80s. Jesus, he
loves the decade, but this is a bit much. She walks around her desk and uses
one long boney finger to motion for someone to come in. Louis turns to see
a student with longish brown hair and deep brown eyes make his way
through the glass door way of the office, smiling at him. He returns his
smile, because at least he isn’t looking at him curiously like everyone else.
“Louis. This is Liam Payne. He is going to show you around a bit then take
you to your first class,” The woman says, gesturing towards the other boy.
“Hiya. Nice to meetcha,” Liam greets, eyes crinkling with his smile. He
grabs Louis’ outstretched hand for a shake, and Louis instantly likes him.
Something about him seems warm and caring. Maybe they will be friends.
Well, that is if Louis allows it. He hates the thought of leaving yet another
person behind.
“Hi. Nice to meet you too,” Louis returns, smiling as well.

“Come on. I’ll give you a quick tour. Shouldn’t take very long since the
school ain’t very big. We have pretty much the same schedule, and I play
football, so I think that’s why they picked me,” Liam says gesturing for
Louis to follow him.
“Makes sense.”
“Yeah. So this is a super small school. Shouldn’t take you long to learn your
way around. Let’s start with your locker,” Liam says, walking down a
hallway to the right, lined with trophy cases. “You’ll find that you will be in
class with generally the same people all day, every day. It’s based on test
scores. They want to make sure kids are taking classes with other kids who
are on their level, academically. The only classes that’ll differ are general
courses, like foreign languages and fine arts.” Louis nods along, listening to
Liam ramble about the school and pointing to various things, mostly
understanding through his accent. They go to Louis’ locker, where he
successfully opens to combination, then they go on a quick tour. Louis is
thankful that it seems class has already started, so he doesn’t have to deal
with the staring.
“Alright, time to go to our first class, I suppose,” Liam says with a chuckle
although Louis didn’t find the statement all that funny. They walk into the
choir classroom, and a hush instantly falls, all of the student’s eyes trained
on them.
__________
Harry hits the snooze button on his alarm for the fifth time that morning,
not wanting to go to school at all. He groans looking at the clock. He
doesn’t have time to shower or anything before he has to catch the bus.
Fuck . Why does school have to start so godsdamned early? He rubs his
entire face in a weak attempt at waking himself up. He really should have
gone to bed last night at a halfway decent time, but he was reading and
didn’t want to stop. Not like anyone would make him go to bed anyways.
He rolls out of bed and finds the nearest pair of black skinny jeans laying on
the floor. He stumbles to his dresser, pulling out one of his many black band
t-shirts. He doesn’t even pay attention to which one it is as he pulls it over
his mop of curls. He grabs all of his bracelets, putting them on one at a
time, making sure they take up most of his forearms, covering his scars.
Next he puts on his necklaces, pulling them over his head so that they lay
flat against his t-shirt. He slips each ring on, one by one, enjoying the
feeling of the cool metal against his skin.
He goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth, squinting at the harsh overhead
light. He looks bad. Despite the fact that it’s summer, his skin is pale and
there is a dark ring around his eyes. Oh well, he shrugs. He isn’t trying to
impress anyone. No one will even notice him, like normal. He is just the
weird kid. Most people at his school simply try to ignore his existence or
they are scared of him. They think he is a Satanist or something, going to
cast a spell on them. He doesn’t care. It gets them to leave him the fuck
alone.
He finishes his minimal bathroom routine, and goes down to the kitchen to
grab an apple, not having time for actual breakfast. His mom has left him a
note on the fridge, saying she is working both jobs today, so she won’t
home until late. He sighs, mentally preparing himself for another lonely
evening. Maybe he will find something to get into, but probably not. He
isn't sure that his mom loves him, she is never around, but to be fair, she is a
single mom. She has had to work two job since his dad left when he was a
teenager, just to put food on the table for him and his sister. Since Gemma
has moved out, things have been easier on her, but she still works a lot.
He eats his apple as he makes his way to the bus stop, his friend Niall
greeting him with a huge smile. Harry just rolls his eyes, but allows his lips
to curl into a soft smile. Niall is like an over excited puppy, but he is
Harry’s best friend. His only friend, really. Niall is one of those rare people
who can fit in with anyone and any crowd. He is friends with everyone at
school, and fits into all the cliques easily. He sticks with Harry the most,
probably because Harry is a bit of a loner, and Niall is too nice to let him be
by himself all of the time.
“Hey, I didn’t think you’d make it,” Niall says, hugging his friend like he
didn’t just see him yesterday. Niall knows that Harry hates hugs, but that
doesn’t stop him for a second.
“Yeah. I was up late last night,” Harry responds shrugging his hunched up
shoulders.
“With a boy?” Niall asks with an exaggerated wink.
“Fuck off, and keep that shit down. I am trying to not die on my first day of
school,” Harry whispers, but Niall just rolls his eyes.
“Come on, you know I’d protect’cha.”
“If you could keep your big fucking mouth shut, then I wouldn’t need
protection,” Harry hisses, but there is no bite in his tone. He loves Niall too
much to actually be mad. Not that he actually gives a flying fuck what
people think of him. His sexuality would be just one more thing to add to
the list of ‘weird’ if they were to know. He just doesn’t want to deal with
that kind of crisis in his senior year. He would rather just move far away for
college, and become his own person.
“So what classes are you in?” Niall asks talking over the loud noise the
breaks of the bus makes as it pulls to a stop in front of them. They both get
on, Niall heading straight to the back with Harry hot on his heels. Niall
greets everyone while Harry tries not to make eye contact.
“Here,” Harry says thrusting his schedule at Niall.
“Oh sweet, we have all the same classes except for Art and Creative
writing!” Niall exclaims, clearly happy about this turn of events.
“Awesome. Maybe I won’t be terribly miserable,” Harry says, closing his

eyes and resting his head on the seat in front of him. He just wants to go
back to bed. Niall chats on and on about how he hopes the first day of
school is going to go. Harry doesn’t even think Niall would realize it if he
put his earbuds in to block out the noise, but he doesn’t want to do that to
his friend. He may be an ass, but he isn’t that rude.
They get off the bus and walk to choir class together, stopping at Niall’s
new locker first. Harry doesn’t bother going to his; he didn’t bring anything
except his ancient cell phone, a pen, a notebook, and his brown, leather
bound journal he takes everywhere with him. Harry is actually looking
forward to this class and creative writing, but he doesn’t voice this. He has
had choir since the beginning of his high school career, even though he only
had to take it once. He enjoys music and singing. The ease of the class also
breaks up some of his harder ones like physics and chemistry.
The room is set up with three rows of brown chairs all facing the front of
the room. Harry and Niall immediately go to the section where the
baritone’s will be seated, since they have both been in the class before. Mr.
Tennant will probably make them test their vocal range again, since it can
change with age, but both boys are pretty confident this is where they will
end up. Niall keeps talking, because he literally never shuts up, as more
people begin to filter into the room, Niall greeting each of them, starting a
conversation. Seriously, how does he have the energy this early in the
morning?
Harry, for his part, just ignores everyone with his eyes trained firmly to the
front of the room waiting for class to start, thinking about how boring this
year is going to be. He contemplates, for the fourteenth time that morning,
putting his ears buds in and drowning out everything with some rather loud
music, but he knows that class will start soon, and Mr. Tennant would just
make him turn it off. Sure enough, a few moments later, the last bell rings
signaling the beginning of class. Mr. Tennant takes row, then starts bringing
each student up, one by one, to test their vocal range, sitting them in the
appropriate seat afterward.
When it’s Harry’s turn, he walks to the front of the room, hating the feeling
of all eyes on him. Thankfully the other students are allowed to talk
amongst themselves while their peers are being tested, still doesn’t ease his
apprehension though. Niall gives him a thumbs up, which kind of helps. He
pushes down the anxiety making its way up his throat and walks up to the
piano. Mr. Tennant does an excellent job of making it painless because he
understands that not everyone is a good singer nor do they like being in
front of people. Mr. Tennant, however, has told Harry on multiple occasions
that he is a great singer, and he would give him a solo if he just asked.
Harry ignores his comments, being perfectly happy to just be the weird kid
in the corner.
“Baritone,” Mr. Tennant starts with a smile, “But you can go as low as some
bass notes. Well done.”
“Thanks,” Harry mumbles making his way back to his seat, feeling as
though his cheeks are on fire at the compliment. Niall is called next, his
results being a steady baritone. Before he knows it, everyone in the room is
seated in their appropriate sections. Like normal, most of the girls are
sopranos with a few contraltos. Most of the boys are like him and Niall,
baritones, with one and two basses and one or two tenors mixed in.
Mr. Tennant is in the front of room, beginning their lecture when the door
opens. All eyes are on the pair entering the room. One guy Harry recognizes
as Liam Payne. He is a jock in his senior year as well. He has never
explicitly made fun of Harry, but he has also never really talked to him
outside of the classrooms. He has a good voice though. His falsetto is killer.
The other guy, however, Harry doesn’t recognize, which is odd for a small
town. He is quiet attractive, even though he is preppy and clearly a jock. He
is short with shapely legs, brown hair, lightly tanned skin and freckles. His
eyes though. His eyes are a clear shade of blue, framed with ridiculously
long eyelashes. Okay. He is cute. Very, very cute, but completely off limits.
A guy like that would never even talk to Harry, let alone actually date him.
He is probably straight anyways, like everyone else in the godsforsaken
town.
“Mr. Tennant,” Liam addresses, “Sorry I’m late, sir. I was showin’ our new
student around the school. This is Louis Tomlinson.” Liam then goes to
take seat beside Niall, knowing that Mr. Tennant probably wouldn’t make
him test his range.
“Hi, Louis. Nice to meet you. I am glad you could join us in Choir this
morning,” Mr. Tennant smiles reassuringly. “Why don’t you tell us a little
bit about yourself, then we can test your vocal range.”
Harry watches a blush creep up Louis’ freckled cheeks, turning them the
prettiest shade of dark pink, to match his lips. Louis doesn’t seem to want to
do this, but he finally turns towards the class as a whole and gives them a
tentative smile. “Hi,” He starts with a small wave, “As already established
my name’s Louis. I hate doing these things. I am an army brat, so I’ve
moved around a lot. My family just moved here last weekend. I guess I will
be playing football.” His voice is high and raspy, his accent very different
than anyone Harry has ever heard that wasn’t on the television. He didn’t
really have an accent, that’s the thing. Everyone in the town sounded like a
donkey eating an apple, but Louis is different.
“Very good. Come over here, and we can test your range to see where you
will be seated,” Mr. Tennant instructs. Louis does as he is asked and makes
his way to the piano in the front of the room. When he starts to sing, Harry
is mesmerized by it. His voice is the most beautiful kind of oxymoron. It is
light and raspy but somehow bright with great projection. He sounds how
silk feels, and it gives Harry shivers.
“Don’t see new kids very often ‘round here,” Niall’s voice breaks into his
subconscious, effectively taking his attention away from Louis and his
voice.
“What? Oh, no. You don’t. Seems like another jock though, so he should fit
right in,” Harry replies, bitterness leaking into his tone.
“Ya never know, he may be different,” Niall observes right as Mr. Tennant
compliments Louis on his voice and sat him with the tenors of the class, on
the other side of the room from the baritones.
__________
So that wasn’t the most terrible thing. Sure he has never sung, but he didn’t
think it was that bad. It definitely could have been worse. The entire
classroom could have laughed at him. He makes his way towards the tenor
section of the room, looking for Liam, because, at this moment, he is the
only familiar face. Liam is sat with the baritones, so therefore, on the other
side of the classroom. Of fucking course.
Louis finally lets his gaze wander over the rest of the class. Some of the
girls are looking at him and smiling. He smiles back, knowing that Mark is
going to ask him about a girlfriend in a few weeks. He sees Liam is sitting
next to a loud guy with bleached hair and braces. He seems to be the life of
the classroom though, talking to everyone, and making them laugh. Louis
likes him already and hopes they have more classes together. Louis is
known to be loud and bit of a class clown once he gets used to the school,
so he could see them joking around together.
Finally, his gaze lands on the person hunched over in the chair beside the
blond guy. His black skinny jeans makes his legs look incredibly long. His
arms are crossed over his black t-shirt clad chest with rings on almost every
one of his long fingers. His eyes cast down seemingly interested in the chair
in front of him, so Louis can’t make out their color. His hair is a dark mess
of curls making his skin look even paler, almost translucent. His red lips are
shaped into a small pout and his brows are drawn, as if in concentration. He
isn’t speaking like everyone else in the class.
Louis suddenly wishes Liam was beside him so he could ask about this guy.
There is just something about him that has caught Louis attention. Louis
wants to get to know him, but isn’t sure how to go about it. Maybe they will
have more classes together. As if he can feel Louis’ gaze on him, Curly
looks up, green eyes locking with his own. It almost takes Louis breath
away, but then the guy glares. Louis briefly wonders if he did something
wrong, but doesn’t drop his gaze. Curly, in one fluid motion, takes one long
hand and flicks Louis off. He doesn’t even bother glancing to see if the
teacher is watching. Louis can’t believe the nerve of this guy, so he gives
him a look as if to say ‘oh yeah?’ then flips him off with both hands. Curly
rolls his eyes and looks away, crossing his long arms over his chest again.
Louis continues to watch the guy for the rest of class. He only sees him talk
a few times, and it is always to the blond guy he is sitting next to. He never
addresses anyone else, and they never address him. Louis doesn’t even
know what his voice sounds like because he is too far away, which is a
fucking travesty. He would bet money that his voice is as dark and
dangerous as he looks. He wonders if he will have a thick southern drawl
like everyone else. If that’s the case, then the accent has suddenly become
more appealing to Louis.
After class, Liam comes up to him and ask to see his schedule. Louis gives
it to him, already knowing that next they would be going to Chemistry. He
watches as the rest of the class filters out, mostly keeping his eyes on the
tall curly haired kid who flicked him off. Now that he is closer, he takes in a
bit more of his appearance. His jawline could cut glass. The black t-shirt he
is wearing has a menacing logo of a band on it that Louis doesn’t recognize.
A few necklaces are hung around his long neck, one looks like some sort of
star with a circle around it. The symbol looks familiar, but Louis can’t place
where he had seen it before. His skin is pale, the dark bracelets dawning his
thin wrist a stark contrast. He is beautiful in a haunting sort of way. A
shiver goes down Louis’ spine when their eyes meet one more time as he
exits with his friend. His eyes are green, the color of a dark forest or a
mysterious lake.
“Who is that kid?” Louis interrupts. He feels kind of bad because he hasn’t
been paying any attention to Liam, but whatever. He is curious, and there is
something magnetic about the boy.
“What kid?” Liam asks, confused.
“The one with curly hair. Quiet. Wearing all black,” Louis describes trying
not to get impatient. He just wants to know his name.
“Oh. Harry. Harry Styles. He’s a bit weird and a loner. He’s friends with
Niall though, and Niall’s cool,” Liam supplies starting to exit the classroom.
“Harry,” Louis says letting the name roll off his tongue. He likes it. It fits.
“Niall’s the blond guy?”
“Oh yeah. He’s friends with everyone, so you’ll definitely meet him at
some point,” Liam answers. Louis lets this information roll over in his mind
as they make their way to their next class. He is surprised to see Harry in
the room when they arrive, already seated in the back beside Niall.
__________
Harry notices as soon as Louis and Liam walk through the door. Fucking
great. This is just shitting perfect. Louis is in honors classes, so I will
literally spend all day with him . He quickly averts his gaze when he sees
Louis looking around the room, probably finding a seat. He glances up
again, seeing Louis tap Liam’s chest and gestures for him to follow. Liam
does, seemingly confused when Louis started moving towards Harry and
Niall.
What. The. Actual. Fuck. Louis can’t. He wouldn’t. Fuck he did. He sat
right behind Harry, while Liam took the seat across from him, behind Niall.
No one ever sits behind Harry. One would think he has the plague or
something equally as devastating, so he is used to most people avoiding
him. It’s weird that Louis chose to set behind him instead. He wants to
scream. He shoots Niall a puzzled expression, but Niall just smiles.
“Hey, man. I’m Niall,” he introduces, sticking his hand out for Louis to
shake. Fucking Niall. Always having to be polite and friendly and shit.
“Nice to meet you,” Louis responds politely, his clear voice ringing in
Harry’s ears. He refuses to turn around though, keeping his eyes trained on
the chalkboard in front of him.
“This is my friend Harry,” he hears Niall say, and Harry shoots him a death
glare. He would have been perfectly content with Louis never even
knowing his name.
“He doesn’t talk much,” Louis observes, but Harry still refuses to look in
his direction. He doesn’t trust his intentions. Ever since middle school, he
has been harassed by the popular kids. Sick jokes always being played on
him, some taking it too far. Quite frankly, he just doesn’t trust a single one
of them. Why should this Louis guy be any different? He is probably a
sheep just like the rest of them.
“Oh, he does. You just have to get him to open up,” Niall assures rolling his
eyes when Harry flicks him off, still refusing to speak. Thank the gods that
the teacher starts the course, letting Louis introduce himself again. He
pretty much says the same thing, as if he has it memorized. Harry briefly
wonders just how often Louis changes schools, since he is an army brat, but
quickly forgets the thought. Not wanting to give him even that.
Mrs. Harris is notorious for never making her students do much, even in a
more difficult course like chemistry. She spends the first day of class briefly
going over her lesson plans, the allows them all to ‘talk and catch up from
the summer break’. Harry kind of hates her because Louis is behind him.
He can feel Louis’ gaze on the back of his head, but he still refuses to turn
around. Niall and Liam are talking about something sports related, so Harry
opens his journal intending to get some thoughts down.
“What are you doing?” He hears a high raspy voice from behind him. Out
of the corner of his eye, he can see Louis peeking over his shoulder. He
quickly moves to cover the page from his prying eyes.
“Nothing,” he responds, positioning his body over the journal and keeping
his gaze down.
“Doesn’t look like nothing,” Louis says, then he feels a warm hand on his
shoulder, attempting to move his body. Harry doesn’t budge though, and
tries to ignore the spark of electricity that moves down his spine from the
touch. “Come on.”
“Why are you even talking to me?” Harry asks shutting his journal and
finally turning around, giving Louis what he hopes is a death glare. Louis’
blue eyes are wide with shock, probably not expecting the question.
“Because I want to.”
“No, you don’t. I promise. I am not interesting or popular. I don’t have the
hook up for drugs. I am not rich. You’re smart, since you are in these
classes, so I doubt I could do your homework better than you. There is no
reason for you to be talking to me,” Harry rants, words falling from his lips
quickly, even for him. He is just sick of this shit. He wants Louis to
understand that he has nothing to offer him, and he should probably just
leave him alone.
“Relax there, Curly. I don’t want anything from you. Just want to talk,”
Louis says lifting two small hands up at chest level, blue eyes wide with his
thin dark pink lips quirked into a small smile.
“No one ever wants to talk to me, and my name’s not Curly,” Harry tells
him rolling his eyes and turning back around, crossing his arms in front of
his chest.
“Well I do,” Louis insist, tapping him on the shoulder. This guy just won’t
stop. Liam will probably inform him after class how uncool it is to talk to
Harry. “Look we got off on the wrong foot back in Choir class. I would like
to properly introduce myself. I’m Louis.”
“Yes. We have established that. I know who you are,” Harry says with an
exasperated sigh, turning back around to face Louis. He’s going to get
whiplash if he keeps this up.
“Ah, but I don’t know anything about you.” Louis smiles, and, fuck, it’s
devastating. His teeth are straight and white, the smile making his blue eyes
crinkle at the corners.
“You want to keep it that way, trust me. I’m a nobody. The weird kid that
everyone thinks worships Satan or some shit. Talking to me on your first
day will ruin your image,” Harry maintains, placing his palms on Louis’
desk, trying to get him to understand.
“First, I don’t give a fuck about my image, well not entirely. Second, do
you? Worship Satan I mean?”
“What?” Harry asks, taken aback by this turn of events. Who the fuck is
this Louis guy? The confusion must be apparent on his face, because Louis
just crosses his arms and narrows his eyes, waiting for Harry to answer.
“Umm-- no. You have to believe in a God to believe in Satan. Can’t

worship something I don’t think exist,” Harry finally answers hoping his
honesty would turn Louis away. He is probably a Christian like everyone
else in the area. Yay for Bible Belt, USA.
“So, you don’t believe in God?” Louis looks shocked, yet slightly intrigued
by the information. He is looking at Harry as if he is puzzle that he wants to
solve. It is making Harry feel uncomfortable, shifting in his seat. He isn’t
used to people taking an interest in him or asking him questions at all. His
own mother barely asks him how school is going.
“No. Does that bother you?”
“I just don’t understand how. Like have you not read the Bible? Never gone
to church?” Louis’ blue eyes are narrowed, but he doesn’t seem angry, just
interested.
“Yes. I have read the Bible and gone to church. That’s why I’m an atheist.
Look, if you want to have a philosophical discussion about the Bible and
Christianity, now is not the time nor place to do it. You aren’t going to
convert me into a Christian, if that is what you are hoping for. I am a lost
cause. Ask literally anyone in the school,” Harry says, already tired, and it’s
only the second class of the day.
“I may take you up on that philosophical conversation later,” Louis says

with an easy smile. Later. What the fuck does he mean by later? There will
be no later. After class, Liam will tell Louis that he shouldn’t talk to Harry
because of his reputation, then he will never hear from him again. There
will be no later. The bell rings then, stopping them from continuing their
conversation, for this, Harry is thankful.
Much to Harry’s surprise and displeasure, they spend the rest of the day like
that. Louis sits behind or beside Harry in almost every class, since there is
always an empty seat near him. He doesn’t see Louis’ at lunch, thank the
gods, so he just eats in his normal spot with Niall. The only classes he and
Louis do not have together is Spanish, and they must go somewhere
different for their free period. The rest of their classes are quite busy, so he
didn’t really have to speak to Louis again, however, he could always feel
his gaze. Harry just doesn’t understand why Louis is interested in him. He
is sure that whatever he intent, it is malicious.
Chapter End Notes
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No Me Importa
Chapter Summary
Louis thinks he may have found a way to crack through Harry’s walls
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for more notes
You’re so brave from your side of the glass
And you, you can’t compute, you can’t do the math
And you’re, you’re playing god with your remote control
But I already know that there's a flaw in my code and the
The truth is you silently study me
And there are consequences that you cannot see
And you ask yourself how did I unplug

But the simple truth is that I just don’t give a fuck- In this Moment
Harry Styles is Louis’ new favorite thing to study. He is way more

fascinating than classes, his family, and anyone else at school. Louis can’t
read him for the life of him; which is odd because Louis is fucking amazing
at reading people. He considers it a gift, really. He has known Harry for
three weeks now, and still can’t seem to get through his walls. Harry has
now taken to answering his questions with one word, or putting his ear buds
in during their free time of class and reading from a book, ignoring him
completely. This is why Louis has decided to befriend Niall. Niall is the
only one, it seems, that Harry ever speaks to. So that must mean that Niall
has superpowers or something. Maybe some kind of innate ability… like
the Harry Whisperer or some shit. Louis must find out his secrets.
“Louis, time for breakfast!” His mom calls from downstairs. Louis rolls his
eyes because he knows what fucking time it is. He is just so sick of his
parents constantly controlling his every move. He joined the football team
and the Bible Club as asked, yet he can’t seem to get Harry’s words about
religion out of his brain. He really wants to speak to Harry about it, but the
boy has been all but ignoring him since their first day, which just makes
Louis want to try harder.
He goes down stairs and through the motions of saying grace, eating
breakfast, and making small talk with his family. Barely stopping himself
from rolling his eyes a few times. He is almost out the door when the
dreaded question comes from Mark. “So, Louis. Do you have your eye on a
girl yet?”
Fuck. He hates this question. He was expecting it, but that doesn’t make it
any easier. He has been putting off this whole girlfriend thing for as long as
possible. He met a girl that he thinks would be the perfect candidate for his
predicament. Overly religious and a cheerleader, she won’t expect sex,
which is what he wants. His parents don’t know he is attracted to men. No
one does. He, himself, will barely even acknowledge it because he knows
it’s wrong. He hates himself because of it. It’s wrong. It says so in the Bible,
but that doesn’t stop his urges. It certainly hasn’t stopped his attraction to
Harry. He will just beg forgiveness for his sins later, and pray that maybe
God will stop his urges.
“Yeah,” he answers his step-dad realizing that he has gone far too long in
silence, causing suspicion.
“That’s my boy,” Mark smiles, clapping him on the shoulder, almost

causing the smaller man to fall. Now he is going to have to ask this girl out,
which kind of makes him sick. All he can think about is the curly haired,
green eyed boy that seems to hate him. What will Harry think? Would he
really stop talking to him now? He doesn’t even know if Harry is into guys,
and he can’t seem to get a read on him.
“Umm… I may ask her out today. Her name is Leigh-Ann, and she is a
junior,” Louis supplies, thinking of the girl he met last week during football
practice. She was certainly flirting with him in that sickening way popular
high school girls do, laughing far too much and twirling her ridiculously
long blond hair that sounds as though it is actually crackling from all of the
hairspray. He probably won’t ask her out until next week, but maybe it will
keep Mark off his back for now. He would just fake having a girlfriend, but
his parents would know .
“Cheerleader?” Mark asks with a sickening wink.
“Yeah. Well anyways, I better head to school. Don’t wanna be late,” Louis
says with a tight smile because eww . He doesn’t wait for a response before
he is out the door, practically running to his car. Once he gets into his car,
he bangs his head on the steering wheel a few times, trying to tell the
contents of his stomach that they, in fact, do not want to make another
appearance this morning. He can do this. He has ‘dated’ a girl at every
single school he has been to. This is just another day to him, but something
about this time seems different. Perhaps it’s because there is a guy he is
actually interested in. Louis is no virgin, but he has only fucked around with
guys who he knew would never tell his parents. Never an actual relationship
or even feelings involved. He just needed to scratch an itch, that’s all.
He sighs, starting his car. He makes his way towards Liam’s house to pick
him up for school. Louis has become quite close with Liam over the past
few weeks. He would actually consider him a friend, even though he knows
better than getting attached. Liam is very serious, but he tends to balance
out Louis’ joking nature. He also doesn’t seem to care about Louis’
fascination with Harry, unlike the rest of the football team who have given
him shit for it from the very beginning.
“Hey, man,” Louis greets, watching as Liam climbs into the passenger seat.
“Mornin’,” Liam responds, shooting Louis an easy smile.
“So…” Louis starts, not really sure how to ask his next question. He doesn’t
want Liam to know of his recent obsession. He has been doing a good job
of not talking about it, but he needs to know more. He decides to just go for
it. Liam doesn’t seem the type to judge, but he can’t let him know too
much, especially when it comes to his attraction. “What do you know about,
Harry Styles?”
Liam shoots him a confused look, but answers, “Honestly? Not much. I
know that he is super quiet and wears a lot of black clothes. The kids at
school say he worships the devil or somethin’, but I don’t know if I believe
it. Probably just gossipin’. I’ve seen him write in a diary of some sort
though, so that’s kinda weird. He also likes to read. Um-- I think he comes
from a poor family and his parents are divorced, but I don’t know for sure.”
Louis considers this information. Most of it he already knew from his

observations. It seems that not many people actually know a single bit of
useful information about Harry. Like real, solid information. Just theories.
He is a mystery, and Louis loves a good mystery. He pauses before he asks
his next question, not sure if it would seem like he is a bit too interested, but
plows ahead because he doesn’t know another way to find out at this point.
“Does he have a girlfriend?”
Liam looks like he is considering this for a moment, tilting his head to the
side in thought. Louis tries to pay attention to the road, as he waits. He
doesn’t want to look overly interested in the answer, but holds his breath
awaiting a verdict. “Not that I know of. Come to think of it, I don’t think he
has ever had a girlfriend. Some kids say that he is gayer than a two dollar
bill, but I don’t know ‘bout all of that. Why?”
“Oh no reason,” Louis responds quickly, too quickly. His heart felt like it
had stopped when he heard Liam use the word gay, but he doesn’t really
understand the phrase after that. A two dollar bill- what the fuck? Do they
even make those? And why on earth would they be gay? Some of these
redneck phrases make absolutely no sense. “He just seems interesting is
all.”
“Hmm,” Liam says, and out of the corner of his eyes, he can see the other
man studying him.
“Niall seems cool, too,” Louis diverts, quickly changing the subject, kind
of.
“Yeah. Niall is as cool as a cucumber. He’s friends with everyone. Maybe

we can all hang out after school, you know after football practice. I think
you’d like him.”
Louis is unsure. On the one hand, it would be the perfect opportunity to get
to know Niall and possibly even Harry, if Niall convinces him to come, but
on the other hand his parents probably wouldn’t let him. He is expected to
come home as soon as practice is over. He could ask them if he can hang
out with Liam. They know about Liam. Met him at church last Sunday, so
they may even trust him. “Let me ask my parents. They are super strict, so
they may say no.”
He decides to text his mom and ask once he parks at school. She is way
more understanding than Mark. Mark is also working late today, so he
won’t even notice if Louis isn’t home. Louis feels his phone vibrate in his
pocket on their way to class.
“Awesome. She actually said yes. As long as I don’t stay out past 7,” Louis
informs, surprised by his mom’s answer.
“Great.”
“Yeah. Maybe we can ask Niall here in a minute. I may be able to sneak
over and sit with you all,” Louis says with a laugh. He hates that he sits
across the room from Liam. He is surrounded by girls and every single one
of them tries to flirt with him. He tries to ignore them, but he can’t since he
wants everyone to think he’s into them. It’s an issue. A really stupid,
ridiculous fucking issue.
Once they walk through the doors of choir class, they take their assigned
seats. Louis promises Liam that he will come over when Mr. Tennant starts
working with the sopranos on their part. He sits in his seat and waits
patiently for Harry to walk through the door, like he does every morning.
Louis’ breath hitches in his chest when Harry and Niall walk through the
doors. Harry is dressed the same as he dresses every day, black skinny
jeans, and a band t-shirt, but today, is a bit different. Harry’s green eyes are
outlined in coal black eyeliner, making the color pop. He long dark lashes
add to the overall edginess of the look. Louis can’t break his gaze. He has
never really been attracted to punk/goth people, but there is something
about it that works for Harry. It works well.
Harry, like always, makes it a point not to look anywhere near Louis’
general direction. He sighs because he has to find a way to get Harry to talk
to him. There has to be something. He wonders who had hurt Harry in the
past to make him so suspicious of his fellow classmates. People don’t
become so distrusting overnight. He has a sudden urge to find whoever it is
and hang them from a tree by their toenails. No one deserves to be made
fun of, but he has a feeling that is exactly what happened to Harry. Probably
what continues to happen, and for some reason, this thought makes him
incredibly sad and angry. With newfound determination, Louis makes his
way towards Liam and Niall.
“Hey, how are you all?” Louis greets to both Niall and Harry. Niall waves
while Harry just crosses his arms, rolls his green eyes, and looks away.
“We are just fine and dandy. Have a seat, man,” Niall says gesturing
towards the empty chair in front of him and Liam. What does fine and
dandy even mean? Louis is going to have to start writing this shit down,
maybe get a translator or something because sometimes it feels as though
they are speaking a different language. He has noticed, when he talks at
least, that Hary doesn’t usually say phrases like that. His accent isn’t as
thick either, like he has worked on not speaking that way. It’s still there, but
more subtle.
Louis decides to get straight to the point, because that’s what he does. “So,
Liam and I were gonna grab some food after practice today. You two wanna
join us?” Liam nods in agreement.
“Yeah,” Niall starts, firmly hitting Harry on the arm when the other man
scoffs. “We’d love to.”
“Speak for yourself, Niall,” Harry says glaring at Louis and Liam. Louis is
a bit taken aback by the clear disdain in Harry’s tone. He has never met
anyone in his life who had been harder to crack than Harry. It is frustrating.
“Come on, H. You never do anything after school,” Niall pleads, looking
over at his friend. Harry’s frown deepens.
“No,” Harry responds, tightening his arms that are crossed over his chest,
making his biceps bulge. Louis wants to lick the crease between the
muscles and the bone. He wonders if Harry will taste as sinful as he looks.
It suddenly dawns on him that Harry is his forbidden fruit in the Garden of
Eden. He understands Eve’s perspective now, because if that apple looked
as good as Harry, then it’s no wonder she took a bite. He sure as fuck wants
one. He shakes his head, and tries to refocus on their conversation.
“Harry, you’re just bein’ plain ornery,” Niall huffs, clearly getting agitated
with his friend’s stubbornness. Louis is glad, even though he isn’t exactly
sure what the fuck ‘ornery’ means. From the context, though, he assumes it
means stubborn. Maybe Niall can be on his side. Harry, for his part, rolls
his eyes. He slowly pulls out a pair of earbuds from his pockets. He doesn’t
spare them a glance as he plugs them into his phone. Louis can actually
hear the moment Harry starts the music, because it is loud. He can’t make
out the words or song, but it clearly has some pretty heavy guitar and
drums. He sighs.
“Don’t worry, y’all. I’ll get him to come,” Niall assures, rolling his eyes at
Harry.
“Why does he hate us?” Liam asks curiously, glancing over at Harry who
has is eyes cast down. Liam actually looks a bit hurt by Harry’s actions,
which Louis appreciates. He is hurt as well.
“He doesn’t. It’s complicated,” Niall tells them, clearly wanting to say more
but not wanting to betray his friend’s trust. While Louis understands that, it
opens the door for more questions than answers. One way or another, he
will figure Harry Styles out, even if it kills him.
___________
“No, Niall,” Harry tells his friend during lunch, for what feels like the two-
hundred and thirty seventh time.
“Come on, H, I’m not asking you to suck their dicks. It’s just dinner,” Niall
snaps obviously becoming annoyed.
“No. I don’t want to.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because.”
“Come on. That doesn’t make a lick of sense. Because why?”
“Because, Niall, I don’t fit in with them,” Harry answers through gritted
teeth, wishing Niall would just drop the godsdamned subject already. Niall
knows how he feels about the popular kids. He knows how they have made
Harry’s life a living hell ever since middle school, so why was it so hard for
him to fucking accept that he didn’t want to be a part of their little group?
He didn’t owe them shit, and he doesn’t want to be their friend, thank-you-
very-much.
“Oh for Pete’s sake, Harry, why the fuck does that matter? You certainly
don’t care about fittin’ in here,” Niall retorts, stabbing his Salisbury steak
with his fork, shoving a bite of it in his mouth, and chewing angrily.
“You know I don’t care about fitting in, Ni. That’s not the point. The point
is that they probably don’t really want to hang out with me. They probably
lost a bet or-- or promised their other friends that they would find out if I’m
a freak. Probably just trying to become my friend, so that they will have
something to use against me.” The last line comes out bitterly, leaving a bad
taste in his mouth. He takes a drink of his water in hopes that the liquid will
wash it away.
“Seriously?” Niall asks, outraged. Harry just nods in response. “Heavens to

Betsy, this ain’t no fucking teen romantic comedy, H. Freddie Prinze Jr.
ain’t gonna to pop out of nowhere and confess his undying love to you. Did
ya ever think that maybe, just maybe, they want to be our friends? Maybe
they think you’re interesting or cool. You don’t get to decide what their
motives are. I understand why you don’t trust them, I do, but you can at
least just have dinner with ‘em. You don’t have to tell ‘em anything you
don’t want them to know,” Niall reasons, blue eyes going soft with Harry’s
words. Harry hates the pity.
“Whatever. I can’t go anyways. I don’t have the money,” Harry admits,

blushing at the confession. Niall knows he can’t really do much because his
mom couldn’t afford to give him an allowance. He has put in applications
all over town, but no one really wants to hire someone that looks like him.
“I’ll buy,” Niall offers, shooting down Harry’s last hope of getting out of
this.
“Fine. I’ll go, but don’t expect this to become a thing . It’s not. I will not be
their friend,” Harry says, pointing one long finger at Niall threateningly. He
doesn’t give his friend time to respond before he is stalking away, leaving
his tray of mostly uneaten cafeteria food on the table. He normally wouldn’t
do that since he doesn't always know when he will get his next meal, but he
is annoyed with Niall. At least today he knows he will get to eat after
school. Silver linings.
It’s half an hour later, in Creative Writing, when Harry feels a tap on his
shoulder. He doesn’t turn around because he knows it is Louis fucking
Tomlinson. It is always Louis it seems. He glances over at Niall, who just
so happens to be looking at anyone but Harry. They are supposed to be
working quietly outlining their upcoming assignment, but Harry can’t
concentrate. He just keeps thinking about what was to come after school.
What he stupidly agreed to.
The tapping on his shoulder continues, incessant this time, getting firmer
with each new strike of the finger. Louis isn’t going to be ignored today, it
seems. Harry sighs and turns around, facing Louis. His blue eyes widen
with surprise that he is actually able to get his attention. Good. He wants
Louis to keep believing that Harry wants nothing to do with him because he
doesn’t. “What?” The word comes out low and menacing. It doesn’t seem
to faze the other man, though. He just smirks. Fuck him.
“So, are you gonna hang out with us after practice?” Louis asks, propping
his chin on one small hand, looking at Harry curiously. Harry hates when
Louis looks at him like that. It makes the old marks on his arm itch, like
they want to come off his skin.
“Why are you asking? I am sure Niall already told you,” Harry responds,
rolling his eyes.
“Nope,” Louis tells him clasping his danity hands on the desk in front of
him and popping the ‘p’, his thin lips pressing together to make the sound.
The action shouldn’t be obscene, but it is. He tilts his head to the side, as if
he is studying Harry. Harry hates that. It makes him want to squirm, but he
refuses to do so.
“Yes. I’m coming.”
“Oh, I like the sound of that,” Louis says with a small smile and a
suggestive wink. Harry’s cheeks heat up at the innuendo that he didn’t even
realize he was saying.
“Not by choice,” Harry mutters turning back around. He feels tapping

again.
“Why do you hate me?” Louis asks when Harry finally turns around to face
him. Harry is surprised. Louis looks genuinely curious and maybe a little
hurt. He has his bottom lip pulled between his teeth, biting lightly.
“I don’t hate you,” Harry admits. He should have just lied, maybe then he
would be left alone.
“You act like you do though.”
“I don’t know you, so I can’t hate someone that I don’t know,” Harry
reasons, watching Louis for any sign of amusement. He is almost waiting
for Louis to laugh in his face and shout ‘well I hate you because you’re
weird’. He doesn’t.
“You can get to know me, you know. I don’t bite. Unless you’re into that
kind of thing.” Louis smirks again. Harry can feel the blush on his cheeks
getting worse. It almost seems like Louis is… flirting. With him. Like Louis
is flirting with him. Harry doesn’t have a lot of experience with people
flirting with him. He doesn’t think anyone really has, so he is probably
reading the situation completely wrong.
“You don’t want to get to know me,” Harry finally decides to say. Louis’
expression falls, and he kind of hates himself for it. He just can’t. He can’t
understand why Louis is talking to him. Why he keeps going on and on
about getting to know him or whatever. He can’t fathom this.
“I do. I promise, I do. How can I convince you?” Louis replies, tapping his
nimble fingers on the desk as if in thought.
“I don’t know,” Harry says honestly, and Louis looks somewhat crestfallen.
Harry finds himself adding, “You could start by telling me why you want to
get to know me.”
“That’s easy. You’re interesting. The most interesting thing at this school if
I’m being honest. You don’t seem to give a fuck what people think of you,
and I kind of admire that. You’re you. Unabashedly you, and that’s just
amazing. Why wouldn’t I want to get to know you? You’re also impossible
to read, and I love a good puzzle,” Louis responds earnestly.
Harry is taken aback by the honesty in his blue eyes. He wants to believe
him. He wants to believe that someone would find him interesting or
whatever, but it’s just hard. He is just really surprised by Louis answer. It’s
a lot, if it’s true, that is. “What do you wanna know?”
“Whatever you want to tell me,” Louis says with a shrug prompting Harry
to just stare at him. Harry doesn’t just talk about himself. He never has.
Everyone already knows him anyways, well at least they think they do, so
what difference does it make?
“Well, I don’t want to tell you anything.”
“Shhh,” Mrs. Moore hushes, from the front of the room, giving both boys a
stern look. Harry quickly turns around, looking down at his paper,
pretending to do actual work. Not even a minute later, he feels something
nudging the back of his neck. He glances back to see Louis pressing a
folded up pieces of paper towards him, the sharp edge is what he felt. Harry
rolls his eyes, but accepts the note. He opens it to find Louis’ handwriting,
which he had never seen before. It is messy, but legible. He traces the words
for a moment before he even reads it.
Louis: Start with your family.
Harry: Just me and my mom. My older sister went to college, so she

moved out.
Louis: That’s cool. For me it’s my mom, stepdad, and 4 sisters
This continues to happen for the rest of the class period. Harry answers
Louis’ questions, even being brave enough to ask a few of his own. He
discovers writing down his answers is much easier than voicing them,
oftentimes finding himself divulging maybe a bit too much information.
Louis never makes fun of him for it though, just continues to talk using a
pen and paper. Most of the questions aren’t overly invasive, just shallow
stuff. He finds himself liking Louis. Even in his messy scroll, Harry can see
his dry and sarcastic sense of humor. Harry continues to get the feeling that
Louis is flirting with him, but brushes it off as a figment of his horny
imagination.
Once the class ends, Harry takes the note and rips it to small pieces,
throwing it in the trash on his way out. He doesn’t want Louis to keep it and
perhaps use it against him later. It may be a bit pathetic and extremely
paranoid, but he doesn’t want to risk it. As Louis watches him do it, his
eyes widen, but he doesn’t say anything. He gives Harry a small smile, then
follows Liam out of the classroom, chatting quietly. Harry feels like he has
stepped into an alternate universe. Nothing makes sense.
__________
“There they are,” Liam says pointing to Harry and Niall, sitting on opposite
sides in a booth. They are both dressed in the same clothes as they wore
during school. Harry’s eyes are still outlined in black, the makeup smudged
a bit, but still the same level of beautiful on his pale skin and green eyes.
Liam and Louis changed once they finished their shower after practice.
Louis’ hair is still somewhat damp. He runs his fingers through it self-
consciously, not having had time to put any product in it.
He watches curiously as Harry glances over, then slaps Niall’s arm. Niall
gives him a confused expression then Harry furiously whispers something
to his friend, glancing over at Liam and Louis every few seconds as they
make their way towards the table. Even when they get closer, Louis can’t
hear what Harry is saying, but he seems to have a pleading look on his face,
dark brows drawn in worry, big hands pulling at the material of Niall’s shirt.
Interesting.
“Hey! Glad you could make it,” Liam greets, taking a seat in the booth next
to Niall leaving Louis, thank fuck, to sit next to Harry. Louis barely stops
himself from cheering and rubbing his hands together in delight. He will get
to touch Harry. He looks down at the other man who has the most adorable
pout on his face as he scoots as close the wall as possible, giving Louis
ample room. Louis shoots him a small smile as he slides into the booth,
putting both hands on the table for support.
“Yeah. Thanks for inviting us,” Niall says shooting a pointed look at Harry.
“Yeah. Thanks,” Harry mutters not making eye contact with anyone at the
table. Louis wants to reach out and hold his hand, but he knows Harry
would just shake him off, maybe even run away from the restaurant
altogether. He also doesn’t want someone to possibly see. He is so afraid of
getting caught. He knows he should suppress his urges, but it’s hard. With
Harry now beside him, looking like sin with black eyeliner and nail polish
to match, it’s down right fucking impossible. He figures he can just ask for
God’s forgiveness later. Scratching an itch. That’s it.
“So, umm, how was practice?” Niall asks, breaking some of the awkward
tension that has settled in the booth. Louis likes Niall. Niall can stay. The
three boys talk about football, and how the season is going thus far as they
order food and wait for it to come to the table. Harry doesn’t contribute to
the conversation at all, probably not interested in sports. He keeps glancing
over at Louis curiously, making Louis want to squirm. Harry is intense
when he looks at you. Like he is hanging off of your every word and boring
into your soul. It is unsettling in some ways, but also makes Louis’ cock
twitch in interest.
“Food’s here. Awesome. I’m fuckin’ starving. I could eat the north end of a
southbound mule,” Niall announces clapping his hands together then
rubbing, like he’s warming up for a marathon. Where does Niall come up
with this stuff? Louis seriously needs an ‘English to Redneck’ translation
booklet, but despite the weird phrases Louis finds himself smiling because
he likes Niall. Not in an I wanna fuck your brains out kind of way, but more
so I think we could be friends .
“Did you all get the Physics homework finished?” Liam asks, looking at
everyone at the table including Harry, obviously trying to involve the quiet
boy in their conversation, bless him.
“Way to ruin my supper, Li,” Niall answers, sighing dramatically and

dropping his fry on his plate. He throws his hands up in the air, as if it is the
worst thing to happen to him, making everyone laugh.
“I started it. What about you Harold?” Louis addresses Harry directly.
Harry’s eyes snap up from his plate when he hears the nickname, gaze
landing on Louis, but he doesn’t say anything about it. Louis gives him
what he hopes is an encouraging gesture, and smiles.
“Me? Oh, I already finished it.” Harry shrugs going back to his grilled
chicken salad.
“What? That shit is hard.” Louis tries to keep the conversation going, happy
to have finally gotten a complete fucking sentence out of the other boy.
“Nah. I got it done two nights ago,” Harry says taking a drink of his water,
full lips wrapping obscenely around the straw and sucking the liquid into
this big mouth. Louis has to physically shake himself. Fuck. What were
they talking about? School? Oh yeah. Physics. That’s right physics. He’s
sure there is some kind of equation in physics that could tell him at what
force Harry is able to suck using his mouth. Fuck. He’s going down the
rabbit hole, again. Right. Concentrate.
“Oh, Mr. Overachiever,” Louis quips, clearing his throat. He hopes it comes
out as a joke. When Harry’s lips quirk up into the tiniest smile Louis has
ever seen, he takes that as a win.
“Not really. Just have a lot of free time at home, I guess.” Harry shrugs
again, picking up his fork and stabbing some lettuce. Harry clearly doesn’t
like to talk much about his home life, so obviously Louis wants to know
more. He just wants to know everything he can about Harry.
“You know, I could help you with that free time thing,” Louis murmurs, so
only Harry can hear. Louis can’t really help him, because his parents are
ridiculous, but it seemed like a good way to flirt. Niall and Liam have
begun talking about their paper due in Creative Writing, so he felt it was
safe to try to engage Harry is some in kind of conversation.
“What?” Harry asks his head snapping up again, and Louis was slightly
concerned for the long column of muscles and skin. It is biteable really, but
that’s neither here nor there. Harry is almost looking as if he is trying to
figure out if he actually heard Louis correctly.
“Free time. I could help you with it,” Louis answers, winking.
“What do you mean?” Seriously, though, why is it so difficult for Harry to

understand that Louis is flirting with him. He knows he isn’t being
completely obvious, but he also isn’t being too subtle. He is starting to think
that Harry has never been flirted with which is a travesty of justice, really.
“Well that’s obvious, Curly. I am saying that I would like to hang out with
you in your free time.” Louis decides not to be flirtatious with this
comment, not wanting to freak Harry out. He only thinks he is into dudes;
he doesn’t know it for a fact.
“Why the fuck would you want that?” Harry asks, and, for once, Louis can
kind of read his body language. Maybe he is getting better at it, or Harry is
letting his guard down. Either way, Harry looks confused and somewhat
defensive. His hand travels to his bracelets, scratching between the dark
leathers, something that Louis has noticed him subconsciously do when he
is speaking to Louis.
“Harold, didn’t we already establish this is class today? I think you’re

interesting blah, blah, blah. Is it really that difficult to believe someone may
want to actually spend time with you, and get to know you?” Louis asks
feeling his temper rise. He is starting to get frustrated. He feels like he is
having the same conversation with Harry over and over again, yet expecting
a different result. Isn’t that the definition of insanity or something? Is Harry
making him insane? Probably, but if Harry Styles is insanity, then sign
Louis up for that shit.
“I still don’t know if I believe you because I’m a nobody. Why would
anyone want to get to know me? Like really? I am boring and weird,” Harry
starts the slightest pout on his lips. Louis wants to kiss if off. “And stop
calling me Harold. That’s not my name. My name is Harry.”
“I know your name, Curly,” Louis says rolling his eyes and nudging Harry’s
arm, his skin so fucking warm Louis wants to touch it some more. He
refrains, though. Somehow. Put it down as a miracle at this point. “But to
get back to the topic, please stop calling yourself weird and boring. You are
neither. I…” Louis lets the sentence trail off, trying to think of what he
wants to say. Finally, he decides to just go with it. “I like you.”
“Yeah. Right.” Harry snorts. “You don’t even know me.”
“And whose fault is that, hmm?” Louis retaliates. Harry doesn’t seem to
have an answer, so he just rolls his eyes. One point for Louis, not that he’s
keeping track. Honestly, if he were, Harry would probably be winning, but
he has definitely gained some ground today, so mental pat on the ass and all
that. “Please believe me when I say I want to know you.” Louis eyes are
wide with honesty. He tentatively reaches out and put one hand on Harry’s
knee, letting the heat seep in through Harry’s jeans. Harry visibly stiffens at
the gesture, not relaxing, but he doesn’t remove Louis’ hand either.
“Fine. I will try to believe you, but it's…” Harry trails off, looking as if he
is fighting an internal battle with himself. Finally, he sighs, looking
somewhat defeated. “It’s hard, okay? Like. I don’t know if you have
noticed, but nobody but, Niall actually wants to talk to me. I don’t mind
since I prefer to keep to myself, but it’s just odd.”
Louis is shocked by Harry’s honesty. He thinks this is the most he has

gotten him to open up since he started trying to talk to him. He is pleased
with this turn and is going to do his best to keep it up. “Well trust me,
alright?”
Harry just looks at him with wide green eyes, but doesn’t reply. For a
moment, it feels as though they are suspended in time, teetering on the edge
of something. The moment feels pure and innocent, somehow. Louis then
hears someone clear their throat, breaking their trance. He looks up, seeing
Niall looking at them with a small smile while Liam just looks confused
and somewhat curious. Shit. Louis had forgotten they were there. Fuck.
Hopefully Liam didn’t hear too much. Louis quickly and discreetly removes
his hand from Harry’s warm knee, already missing the contact. He very
much wanted to trace his fingers up the inside of Harry’s thigh. It probably
would have taken days to get there, given Harry’s ridiculously long legs,
but Louis would have dealt with the fatigue.
“Well, I have to be home by seven, so, umm, I should get going,” Louis
tells the group looking down at his phone to see it is half till.
“How would you like the checks?” The waitress asks, coming to the table
probably overhearing their conversations.
“Mine and his together,” Niall chimes in, pointing to Harry who has started
to find his leftover food quite fascinating. Louis thinks there is more to
Harry Styles than meets the eye and he wants to peel back each layer to find
out what is underneath.
Chapter End Notes

Black Honey
Chapter Summary
Harry gets an important phone call that he has been waiting for,
eventually leading him to a park where he finds one blue eyed boy.
Chapter Notes
I keep swinging my hand through a swarm of bees
I can't understand why they're stinging me
But I'll do what I want, I'll do what I please
I'll do it again till I got what I need- Thrice
Harry is sitting on his bed, listening to music that is probably far too loud
for the neighbors, but he doesn't actually care. He decided to try to get some
of his feelings about Louis out on paper, so he has been writing for the
better part of an hour. However, he doesn’t like the way it flows quite yet.
He sighs, shutting his journal and throws it to the corner of the bed. He rolls
over on his back, and stares up at the ceiling thinking about his
predicament.
Could Louis really be all that interested in him? He just doesn't see how. It
has been a week since their dinner together, and he just can’t get some of
the things Louis said to him out of his head. His brain is trying to convince
his heart that Louis hasn’t been flirting with him, and that he doesn’t
actually like him, even though he has said as much. He likes him? What
does that even mean? Does he like him as a person? Does he like his style?
Does he like him as more than just a friend? There are many ways to like a
person, and all of these questions are making his head hurt.
Louis continues to pass him notes in class, and Harry, against his better
judgement, continues to answer them. He tries to be vague with the
questions about his life, family and past, but he answers shallow questions
like his favorite color truthfully. He thought writing would help, but it
didn’t. He is just so confused with everything. No one in his life has ever
shown him this much interest, or if they have, they’ve given up after Harry
gives them the cold shoulder. With the exception of one time, but Harry
refuses to let his mind wonder there. He’s not young and naive anymore.
Louis is persistent though, if nothing else. With a sigh, he grabs his phone
to text Niall, hoping a distraction may help his dark and muddled thoughts.
He doesn't want to return to old habits, and he can already feel the panic
rising in his throat, threatening to suffocate him. When he goes to open the
messaging app on his phone, it starts vibrating in his hand. He doesn't
recognize the number, but he answers it anyway.
“Umm… Hello.” Okay, so it’s probably not the best way to to start a
conversation, but it will have to do. Harry hates talking on the phone. It
always makes him feel awkward.
Mr. Styles?
Harry quickly turns down the music, because this sounds important. “Yes,
this is he,” Harry says feeling like a complete and total loser. He has never
been called Mr. Styles before, but he supposes there is a first time for
everything.
Good evening. This is Mac from Mac’s Music. I saw you put in an
application for a position we have available. If you’re still interested in the
job, I would like you to come in for an interview.
Harry’s heart skips a beat. Someone is actually calling him about a job.
After all of the applications he filled out, maybe there’s hope. He realizes
then that he has been silent for far too long, so he swallows, his throat
suddenly very dry. “Um.. Yes, I am still very much interested,” Harry
stammers, hitting himself hard on the forehead in his frustration.
Okay, can you come in for an interview this weekend? Saturday around two
o’clock?
“Sure thing,” Harry tells him quickly. He sounds eager, but he doesn’t care
because he is. The music store is one of the places he actually wants to
work.
Okay. See you then.
The man hangs up, and Harry stares at his phone for a few minutes, not
actually being able to believe what just happened. He has an interview.
Fuck. He has an interview. He doesn’t even think he has anything in his
closet that is interview worthy. What the fuck is he going to do? He can’t go
out and buy anything. He would actually need money for that, and his mom
certainly won't be able to afford to buy him anything. He texts Niall his
news and is a bit bummed when he doesn’t get a quick reply. Niall is
probably hanging out with one of his other friends.
Harry makes his way downstairs, deciding it is time for a snack since he
didn’t really have anything for dinner. He opens the refrigerator to find it
empty, like normal. He looks in the cabinets, seeing that they too, are
mostly empty. What they do have, he can’t make because he is missing vital
ingredients like milk or eggs. His good mood dissipates as he goes back to
his room, deciding to just go to bed. It’s the easiest way to deal with being
hungry. If he gets this job, the first thing he will do with his pay cheque is
buy groceries.
__________
Louis is tired and annoyed. He had a grueling football practice that

afternoon, and now all he wants to do is go to bed, however he has physics
homework he has to finish. He kind of wishes he had asked Harry for help
during class that day instead of just passing a note talking about their
favorite ice cream flavors. He can’t say he regrets it, though; Harry is
finally, kind of, starting to open up to him. He is still super fucking vague
about his family and home life, but Louis figures it will just take time.
Louis looks up when he hears the door to his room open.
“Got a moment?” Mark asks by way of greeting, just barging in without

even so much as knocking. Louis internally sighs and rubs his face. He
knows what’s coming. Fuck. He doesn't want to deal with Mark tonight. He
just wants to finish this homework then lay in bed, have a nice wank to
images of Harry, and pass out. Is that too fucking much to ask for?
Seriously.
“Yeah,” Louis lies, looking at his step-father. Mark walks over and perches
himself on the edge of Louis’ bed. Louis hates when Mark comes into his
room. He isn’t sure why, but he finds the whole scenario really
uncomfortable. His room is his space, where he feels like he is free to be
who he is without judgment, but Mark judges. It feels as though when he is
there, he taints something private. Like a black fog rolling in on a lovely
day. His presence almost feels suffocating, like he is taking up the whole
room, not leaving any free air or space for Louis to exist.
“Good. Wanted talk to you for a minute,” he starts, sitting his elbows on his
knees and clasping his large meaty hands in front of him. Louis turns his
body towards him in his chair, doing his best to look interested in the
conversation when in reality, he would hop the first spaceship to fucking
Uranus if it were an option. Uranus. Of course, that’s the planet Louis
would want to go to to. He would be more interested if it was Harry’s anus,
to be honest, but he doesn't say that outloud.
“Okay,” Louis says resisting the urge to roll his finger through the air, just
wanting Mark to get on with it. He already knows what he is going to say,
so what the fuck is the point in drawing out the process? He just wants him
to fucking get to the goddamned point, so Louis can move on with his night
in peace. He can already feel the headache building behind his eyes.
“Are you having girl issues, Son?” Mark asks, and Louis wants vomit. He
absolutely hates when Mark calls him son. On one hand, Louis is grateful
for everything the man has done for his mom and family, but on the other
hand Mark isn’t his dad. His dad left him when he wasn’t even a human yet.
If he was really Mark’s son, then Louis wouldn’t feel the need to walk on
eggshells around him. He wouldn’t feel the need to hide, but it is what it is.
Nothing he can do about it. The whole thing is hopeless really.
“Um-- not really,” Louis says. It’s not a lie. He isn’t having girl issues
because he gives zero fucks about girls.
“Well you mentioned that girl Leigh-Ann, but you haven't told us you were
seeing her yet,” Mark prompts, and oh right. He did tell him that. Fuck.
Louis needs to think fast because he hasn’t so much as spoken to the fake
ass cheerleader in a few weeks. He had completely forgotten about her in
his desire to crack open Harry’s hard exterior. Honestly, the girl had never
really been a blimp on Louis’ radar, she was just a means to and end. A way
to satisfy his step-dad’s insistence. Louis had to think fast, so he does what
he always does in these situations, he lies through his goddamn teeth. He is
quite good at it, having had years of practice thus far.
“Oh, yeah. Her. Yeah, she started dating this other guy. He had been talking
to her for a while apparently,” Louis says not realizing that with this lie, he
is going to have to find a whole new girl to satisfy Mark’s wishes. Fuck. Oh
well, he wasn’t sure if he could handle Leigh-Ann anyways. What was that
southern saying Niall said the the other day? Oh yeah. She certainly wasn’t
the brightest crayon in the box. If he had to give her a color, it would
probably be like a Sepia. Nothing particularly interesting, or bright. Just
kind of there and used as a filter on Instagram because it’s so fake. She is
shallow and vapid. She has no depth, and Louis doesn't know if he can
handle a relationship like that, fake or not.
“Well, that’s too bad, Son. Got your eye on any others?” Mark asks,
studying him. It makes Louis want to squirm, but he doesn’t. He refuses to
give Mark that kind of satisfaction. He is lucky he wasn’t shipped off to
Military School when he was younger.
“Not at the current moment. Been trying to focus on school and football,
you know?” Louis hopes that his lie is convincing. Well he hopes all of his
lies concerning his parents are convincing like any sane teenager.
“Oh,” Mark says and fuck, he doesn't sound all that convinced. He is still
looking at him as if he is something to be studied. “I know that football and
school is important to you, but girls should be too. You’re a young man, you
should go out and sow your wild oats, if you know what I mean.” Mark
then winks at him, and Louis actually has to swallow the bile that has made
its way up his throat. He wants to gag, but knows he can’t. Maybe he can
make a mad dash to the bathroom when all of this is over, although this
conversation seems to be lasting forever and a fucking day at this point.
“Well. You and Mom don’t make that exactly easy since I have the curfew
of a third grader,” Louis quips, suppressing his eye roll. He knows he
shouldn’t piss Mark off, but he is fucking tired. He hates this conversation,
and he just wants his fucking room back. If pissing him off is the only way
for him to get the fuck out, then Louis will take a grounding. Not like Mark
can ground him from anything, since he isn’t allowed to do shit as it is.
“Watch that tone with me, boy.” Mark points one stubby finger at him, and
Louis swallows. “You’re eighteen now, so I may start considering letting
you do other things, as long as they are school sponsored activities.” Oh
jeez, how sweet of Mark. What a fucking saint he is. Letting Louis do what
normal kids his age are doing. Louis barely suppresses another eye roll at
his comment. Like Louis should be thankful for Mark letting him out of his
makeshift prison.
“Thank you, Sir,” Louis says quietly, looking down at the floor even though
the words feel like acid. He hates this submissive bullshit he has to put on
for Mark.
“Good. Now set your eyes on another girl, bring her to dinner or
something.” Mark gets up from his place on the bed, groaning a bit when
his knees make a loud popping noise. Louis can’t help the small smile on
his face because it almost feels like karma. Karma is a thing right? He
should ask Harry. Harry seems to know about that kind of stuff. Harry. Oh
God what is he going to think when Louis has a girlfriend? Will he hate
him? Fuck. Louis places his head in his hands, trying to bite back the tears
as Mark finally leaves the room. Louis feels like he can breathe again, but
at the same time he feels like he is suffocating. Suffocated by this life and
who he has to be. Why is it so wrong to be attracted to someone? The
fucking Bible. That’s why it’s wrong. The Bible says so. Louis scrubs over
his face one last time before he dives back into his homework, doing
everything in his power to take his mind off the mess that is his life.
__________
“So, you and Lou have gotten all chummy in class lately. Like two peas in a
pod,” Niall says laying back on Harry’s bed, throwing a clean pair of socks
Harry had laying on his bed into the air and catching them.
“Niall, you are supposed to be here helping me pick out clothes for this
interview, not talking to me about a guy I have no interest in, and stop
calling him Lou,” Harry responds looking down at his friend, very
unamused by the entire thing. Can’t Niall see he is freaking out over this?
He could really use the money, and he would very much like to help his
mom out.
“We can do both,” Niall replies with a shit-eating grin. If it wouldn’t have
been like kicking a puppy, Harry would have done just that. Harry sighs and
rolls his eyes, because that’s all he can do. He was expecting this
conversation, but that doesn’t mean he actually wants to have it. He is
nervous enough about his upcoming interview; he doesn't need to add
discussing this Louis situation on top of that. A situation. That is really all it
is.
“Why do we need to do one at all?” Harry asks, trying to avoid the question
as long as possible.
“Because you like him, and you need to come to terms with that,” Niall tells
him, a seriousness in his tone.
“No, I don’t. He’s a preppy jock. Why would I like someone like him? Or
better yet, why would he like someone like me?” Harry asks, still not
answering the question. He doesn't like Louis. He doesn’t. Louis just
annoys the hell out of him until he gives in and talks to him. They never
really have any deep conversations. Mostly just about random things that
Louis asks him. He really doesn't know anything about Louis if he is being
honest. He knows he has a mom and a step dad as well as four sisters. He
knows he likes his banana splits to be ‘traditional’. He knows that his
favorite color is blue. Okay, well maybe he does know a decent amount
about the other boy, but it certainly wasn’t by choice.
“You’re bein’ hypocritical,” Niall says catching the socks and pointing an
accusatory finger at Harry before resuming his previous activities.
“How the fuck am I being hypocritical? Facts, Ni. I’m stating facts,” Harry
defends, stretching both long arms out to the side then letting both fall
limply in his exasperation.
“You constantly talk about how people are quick to judge you because of
the clothes you wear or the fact that you wear eyeliner and paint your nails,
but you sure as fuck are quick to judge someone when you deem their
clothes preppy.” He lifts four fingers to place air quotes around the last
word then continues, “or even when they play sports. How it is that any
different than singing in choir? Why does his fucking polo shirt have to be
any different than your band shirt? Yes, H, you’re being hypocritical.”
Fuck. Niall has a point. Harry hates when Niall has a point. Harry never
thought of himself as a hypocrite, but it seems he is being exactly that when
it comes to Louis. He just, he doesn’t know how to get past it. His entire life
he has been used to people making fun of him for who he is and what he
likes. It’s hard to change years of behavior that has been ingrained. Louis
may not be like everyone else, but it’s hard to convince himself of that
when he’s had no one prove him wrong. Ever.
“That’s not the point, Ni.” Even if it really is the fucking point. “He
probably isn’t even gay.”
“There you go again. Judging,” Niall tsks, not taking his eyes off the socks
he is still throwing. Harry wants to bat them out of the air. He probably
would, however he is athletically challenged and that sounds like it would
require actual hand eye coordination. Instead he just decides to glare at their
movements, letting his heated gaze go up and down with them because
glaring at fucking socks would solve all of his problems regarding a blue
eyed boy.
“No, I’m not. He probably isn’t,” Harry insists getting annoyed because
Niall may or may not be correct about this, and he absolutely despises when
his friend is correct.
“Just because he’s a jock means he isn’t gay? That doesn't make a lick of
sense. Jesus Harry, I thought you were progressive or whatever. Maybe he
is just playing a part to survive.”
“We are still very different people.” What if Louis really is playing a part?
Harry could understand that, and no. He is not going down that path. He
refuses to even entertain that thought. Sympathy would get him nowhere, he
had to learn that the hard way.
“Opposites attract.” Niall shrugs, hitting the light in Harry’s room with the
socks, making them room dim for a split second before the item came back
to Niall’s waiting grasp. “We learned that in science class when we were in
2nd grade. Remember?”
“That was magnets, Ni. Not people,” Harry says, sitting down on the bed
nudging Niall’s legs so he would move them. Niall grumbles a bit, but does
as Harry wants, not pausing his efforts with Harry’s socks. Harry watches
because he doesn’t really want to look Niall in the eye.
“Same difference,” Niall replies. “If two people were exactly the same, they
wouldn’t fit together. Like puzzle pieces or whatever. The point is, it’s okay
to be opposites. Sometimes that is the best thing because you give two
different perspectives. Like you complete each other, ya know?”
“What are you? A fucking hallmark card? Real life isn’t like that Niall. I
know that better than anyone. One boy doesn’t meet and fall in love with
another boy in Bible Belt, USA and expect that boy to love him back.
That’s not how that works. You don’t get to be yourself and love who you
love at the end of the day.” Harry is breathing a bit heavy after his speech,
breaths coming out as short burst of air. He can feel his anger and
resentment rising because it’s not fucking fair, but that is just how the world
works. Sure the LGBTQ+ community has made strides in the past few
years, but that doesn’t change opinions overnight. It won’t stop the
judgement and the closeting and the homophobia. It certainly wouldn’t
allow two boys to fall in love in high school while they are still living in the
Bible Belt.
“Why not, though? Like why can’t it be that way? You can bitch about it ‘til
the cows come home, but you can’t expect the world to change unless you
are willing to change it yourself, H.”
“Great. Now you’re a fucking fortune cookie,” Harry says, placing both
hands on his knees to get up and pace the room, feeling the need to move
around.
“You can divert all you’d like, H, but he flirts with you. A lot.” The light
reflects off Niall’s braces as he tosses the socks in the air again.
“What is it with you and all of these big words. You never use words like
‘divert’ and ‘hypocritical’,” Harry points out, deflecting again.
“Thank you for noticin’, been studying for the SATs. Regardless, when
you’re in the room, it’s like no one else exist to him. I don’t know why
you’re bein’ so stubborn about this. Louis isn’t the people who teased you
or a part of the group who hurt you. He shouldn’t have to pay for their
misdeeds,” Niall says, finally catching the socks and not throwing them
again, instead sitting up to meet Harry’s eyes. Niall’s right. Fuck. Niall is
right. Maybe Harry is punishing Louis for things he never did or had a part
in. That doesn’t mean Harry has to trust him though.
“Niall, can we please drop it and discuss my interview. I really need this
job,” Harry begs because he is really freaking out over this, and he
desperately wants to change the subject. He has never had an interview, and
he knows people are quick to judge him for his black clothes and overall
aloofness.
“Alright,” Niall concedes and thank the gods. Harry sighs in relief. He just
can’t keep talking about Louis. He was fine before Louis ever came into the
picture. Well, maybe not fine, but he was surviving. Sometimes he wishes
Louis’ family had never even moved to the area, so he could endure his
senior year of high school in peace. Instead, Louis seems to be a wrench
thrown into the cogs of his perfectly moving plans to get the fuck out of this
place and be himself in college. “What do you have?”
“Erm. Band t-shirts and skinny jeans?” Harry answers even though it comes
out like a question as he glances towards his sparse closet.
“Do you have anything with buttons besides jeans?” Niall tries, and Harry
has to think about it. Does he have anything with buttons? He places one
long finger on his chin, tilting his head to the side in thought.
“Um-- I think I have a black button down that my mom made me wear to
my grandma’s funeral last year. It may be a bit tight though,” Harry answers
glancing towards his closet and seeing the item of clothing. He pulls it out
and holds it up to himself, looking at Niall.
Niall studies it for a moment, tilting his head to one side then the other as if
trying to decide something. “That should work with a pair of jeans. It’s only
a music store, not like you’re interviewing to be the CEO of Samsung or
something.” Niall laughs like he just made the best joke on the planet.
Harry just smiles and shakes his head at his friend.
“What if they don’t like me. I mean I have no experience. I love music, but
I don’t know a tonne about it. Like I play the guitar, but that’s about it.
What could I bring?” Harry asks, hanging the shirt back in the closet, and
going to sit back on the bed, placing his elbows on his knees and his head in
his hands.
“Just be yourself, H. You’ll be fine. You’re smart, and you can be

charismatic, if you cared. They obviously aren't looking for someone with a
degree in music. You’re just going to be a sales guy, plus a lot of
information about instruments and that stuff can be taught.” Harry hears
Niall say then feels when Niall pats him on the back with a warm hand.
“Okay. You’re right,” Harry sighs, looking at his friend. Niall gives him a
small smile, and Harry returns it.
“Now, maybe you’d listen to me about other stuff,” Niall smirks, and Harry
hits him with a pillow, because really, what else is there to do at this point.
__________
Harry looks at his reflection in the store front windows of Mac’s Music.
The only shitty thing about black clothing is that it feels like the summer
sun heats up the material like a brownie in an easy bake oven. Maybe that
isn’t the best metaphor, but he has never had an easy bake oven, so he
would never know. He runs his fingers through his curls, making sure they
aren’t overly sweaty considering he walked there. He smooths his hands
over his almost too tight shirt, nods his head one last time and opens the
door with a sweaty palm. The cool air from the shop hits him in the face,
cooling him down a tiny bit.
He peers around to store to find Mac, but instead he sees a girl sat behind
the counter. She doesn’t even look up as the door closes, the bell above it
dinging shrilly, too engrossed in whatever book she is reading. Harry wants
to know what it is because he loves reading, and he is always looking for
good recommendations. He doesn’t want to disturb her, because he knows
how much he hates when people interrupt his reading, but he also doesn’t
want to be late for his interview. He takes a quiet deep breath and slowly
walks up to the counter.
“Um-- hi,” he starts awkwardly. He clears his throat right as her head snaps
up, large brown eyes studying him. “I’m Harry Styles, and I’m here for an
interview.”
“Oh yeah. I think Mac mentioned something about you. Hold on,” she
places a bookmark in her book, well it looks more like a receipt, to hold her
place. She uses one hand to push her red shoulder length hair out of her face
before she hops off her stool and disappears into the back room. She returns
a moment later, her thin lips pulled into a bright smile. Harry recognizes her
from school, but he doesn't think he has ever talked to her. He thinks she is
the grade behind him, but he can’t be positive. She always seemed cool and
laid back, not really hanging out with any of the popular kids that liked to
make his life hell.
“Mac said he will be out in minute,” she tells him, placing both hands on
the counter to hoist her short frame onto the stool. Harry bites his lip
nervously, barely suppressing the urge to gnaw on his fingers like he tends
to do when he gets nervous. He looks down at his feet, seeing they are
turned in and consciously straightens their position. A few seconds later, a
tall man with a graying ponytail emerges from the back room. He is
wearing a Metallica T-shirt that looks older than Harry himself, a pair of
dark jeans, and heavy black boots. He has a sleeve of tattoos on one arm,
and few random ones on the other, they look more like the ‘classic’ tattoos
with flames, skulls, and the like. Harry is jealous because he has been
wanting a tattoo for years.
“Hi, Harry. I’m Mac,” the man greets, his voice lacking the normal southern
drawl of the area. He holds out a large palm for Harry to take. Harry shakes
his hand, hoping his palms aren’t too sweaty as they tend to be when he is
nervous. He silently cursed himself for not wiping it on his jeans
beforehand.
“Nice to meet you,” Harry replies politely, because he may be a bit of a dick
to the people at school, but he does have some semblance of manners.
“Alright, come back to my office, and we’ll get started.” Mac gestures,
leading Harry through the back room and into a very small office. The walls
are a dull gray, the space just big enough for a desk. The computer on the
desk looks dated, and the area is a disorganized chaos, papers littering every
open surface making the space seem even more cramped and small. There
are posters and pictures all over the wall, most from old bands Harry
recognizes and enjoys daily. Some even look like they were taken by Mac
himself. Harry could see this man as being someone he would like to talk to
about his experiences, and it immediately puts him at ease.
“So, Harry, tell me a bit about yourself,” Mac starts, clasping his long bony
fingers together and sitting them on the desk. Well sitting them on top of the
paperwork that is on the desk. Harry thinks for a moment, panicking about
the question a bit. He never really liked talking about himself, and it seems
that is all he asked to do lately.
“Well--um-- I’m seventeen and a senior, so I go to school full time

throughout the day, but my schedule is mostly open on weekends and
afternoons. I’m not really involved in any after school activities other than
the occasional choir performance,” Harry says, feeling like he is rambling a
bit because the man probably doesn't actually care that Harry is in choir.
“Interesting. Why did you apply to work here?” Mac asks next, nodding his
head along with Harry’s words. Harry knows it’s a lie. Nothing about
himself or his life is interesting, but he powers through to the next question.
“Well, I wanted to get a job to help my Mom with bills and groceries and
stuff. She is a single parent, so I thought it would be nice to take some of
the burden off of her, you know?” Harry has no idea why he is telling Mac
this. The only person that knows this specific information is Niall, and
Harry isn’t one to share his personal issues with anyone let alone total
strangers or future employers. He pauses for a moment, swallowing, and
continues, “I also have always had a passion for music. I love listening to it,
singing, and I wan to learn to play the guitar. Unfortunately, I’m pretty
crappy at all instruments thought and don’t know much about them.”
“Thank you for your honesty, Harry. I really appreciate that. Knowledge of
instruments can be trained, but passion can’t be. So you have never been
employed anywhere else before?”
“No, Sir,” Harry answers, searching Mac’s expression for disappointment.

He finds none.
“Are you good with people?” Mac asks prompting Harry to panic again. It’s
not that he isn’t good with people, he just doesn't really care about them.
Okay, that may not be completely true. He just doesn’t care what they think
which leads him to not care in general.
“I can talk to anyone,” Harry answers, and it’s not a lie. He can carry on a
conversation with a variety of people from the old lady that owns the
bakery to Louis who is very different than him. He may not technically
speak to Louis, since most of their conversation happens on paper, nor does
he actually want to speak to Louis, but they still communicate.
“Good. This next question is very important,” Mac says, a serious

expression marring his face. Harry freezes, scared to death he is going to be
asked to promise his first born child or his soul or something equally as
terrifying. “What are your favorite bands?” Mac asks, smiling widely, and
Harry instantly relaxes. For the next hour, they discuss music. Mac tells
Harry about all of the concerts that he has been to over the years, and his
background in stage setup. Harry tells him about the concerts he wants to
go to when he has extra money. They discuss British vs American rock
bands, Harry preferring the former.
“Well, Harry, I’d like it if you could start on Wednesday. Maybe just come
in after school. The shop is closed on Mondays, and I mostly need someone
to work evenings and weekends. Willow is my other employee. It’s a small
business, so you may be working alone at some points or just with her.”
Harry nods, barely breathing because he actually got the job. He is
employed. Fuck. He can help buy groceries, pay bills, maybe even finally
save up enough for a tattoo.
“Yeah. That would be perfect. Thank you,” Harry says, quickly thrusting
out his hand to shake Mac’s one more time. He knows he is smiling wide
both dimples popping as he bids Mac and Willow farewell, and walks out
the door, the September heat enveloping him like a grossly warm blanket
straight out of the dryer. He shoots a quick text to Niall and his mom as he
begins walking down the sidewalk, feeling like he is on a cloud. He starts to
get out his headphones as he is walking past a park, he glances up just in
time to see very familiar blue eyes looking at him. He quickly turns,
praying to whoever is listening that he wasn’t recognized.
“Hazza!” Comes a raspy voice from behind him and fuck, why always him?
He was having a good day, too. He had just gotten a job, and it was a
Saturday therefore he didn’t have to wake up early in the morning. It was a
good day, until he heard that unfortunately all too familiar raspy voice call
out a version of his name. Seriously, what is it with Louis and nicknames?
Harry isn’t even that difficult to say. Harry tries to ignore him, quickly
popping his headphones in.
“Hey, Haz!” He hears again, closer this time. Fuck. How fast is Louis?
Harry doesn’t know what position he plays in football, but there is some
type of running position, isn’t there? He doesn’t mull over it too long
because a small finger is tapping him on the shoulder, much like it does in
class. Harry sighs, closes his eyes for a moment then turns around to a
crinkly eyed smile from Louis. It’s Harry’s favorite type of Louis smile, but
he is going to pretend he doesn’t have a favorite Louis anything.
“Hey,” Harry says, popping out his ear buds and shoving them in his tight
pocket. He makes it a point not to return Louis smile, but Niall’s words
from the other day ring in his ear. Fucking Niall.
“You look good. Where were you?” Louis ask eyes raking down Harry’s
body then back up, a small pink tongue coming out to lick his thin lips. He
puts a hand up to his mouth, swipes it, then shakes his head as if coming out
of a thought. Harry briefly wonders what that’s all about until he realizes
Louis asked him a question.
“Oh um-- thanks. I had an interview,” Harry answers and mentally scolds
himself because he actually gave Louis a real answer and not something
vague. What the fuck has gotten into him? Niall has really fucked with his
head this time.
“Oh that’s cool. Did you get the job?” Louis asks, actually looking
interested in what Harry has to say, a direct contrast to their other peers.
“Yeah. I start Wednesday,” Harry can’t help the smile that has bloomed on
his face because he is so happy to have gotten it.
“Congrats, Haz. I’m proud of you.” Louis’ warm hand claps him on the
shoulder. It is the most Louis has really touched him in a while. Harry can
feel himself blushing from the compliment and hopes Louis will think it’s
just the sun. “Where at?”
“Oh-- um-- Mac’s Music,” Harry supplies awkwardly pointing in the

direction of the shop. Louis nods, so Harry continues, “Won’t be a bad walk
from my place.”
“You don’t have a car?” Louis asks, looking surprised. Fuck. Harry is torn
between telling Louis the truth or being an asshole about the whole thing.
He decides to go with a little column A and a little column B.
“Not everyone can afford a car,” He says with no real venom. He does roll
his eyes for good measure.
“Oh. Of course…” Louis’ sentence is cut off by a small voice.
“Loulou. Who’s that?” Harry is surprised by the voice and looks down,
finding two identical little girls hiding behind Louis’ shapely legs. Both
have blonde hair and blue eyes, but one is wearing a purple shirt while the
other is in yellow. They must be Louis’ sisters. Harry glances around to find
two other older girls, with the same hair color as Louis, looking at him with
curious blue eyes, coming to stand next to their brother. Fuck. Harry is
trying not to panic. This can’t actually be happening. He can’t be meeting
Louis’ family. Fuck.
“This is Harry. He’s a friend from school,” Louis introduces, easily catching
the small brown football one of his older sisters tossed him. “Harry these
are my sisters. That’s Lottie and Fizzy.” He points at the two older girls.
The oldest one waves while the other is still looking at him curiously. It’s
the same expression Louis has on his face when he looks at Harry, as if she
is studying him. Harry hates it because it is startlingly similar to her brother.
“This is Phoebe and Daisy.” Phoebe seems to be wearing the yellow shirt.
Harry tries to remember, but this is a lot of information that he wasn’t
expecting.
“Nice to meet you,” Lottie says, smiling shyly.
“Yeah. Lou hasn’t said much about you, though,” Fizzy ads, eyes squinting
in the bright sun.
“Why don’t you go and get us some water? There is a vending machine
over there,” Louis tells them through gritted teeth. Fizzy accepts the cash he
gives her, and Lottie rolls her eyes, a gesture so very much like Louis, both
making their way over to the vending machine.
“Are you gonna pway wif us?” Phoebe asks once her sisters are gone, more
of her body emerging from behind Louis’ legs. Harry doesn't know much
about small children, well he doesn’t really know anything about them, but
he thinks that means she is getting more comfortable with him. He isn’t
exactly sure what the small human asked, so he looks at Louis for help.
“She asked if you’re gonna play with us?” Louis translates with a small
fond smile, glancing down at his sister, running his fingers through her soft
blonde hair.
“Oh. Play what?” Harry asks, confused by the question, really. Why would
they want him to play with them? He is a complete stranger.
“Football, silly,” the other little girl pipes in, pointing to Louis’ hands.
Harry understood that.
“Nope, I don’t do sports balling,” Harry answers, putting one hand up in the
air, dismissing the idea because fuck no. He is uncoordinated and doesn’t
know the first thing about any sport. He doesn’t even think he could name
more than one position or a single NFL player.
“Come on, Haz. It’s just football, not balls balls,” Louis says with a smile,
glancing down at his sisters who decided that holding hands and spinning in
a circle is way better than paying attention to their brother and his friend.
“Balls of any kind,” Harry says, and that’s a fucking lie.
“I bet I could find some balls that you would play with.” With that
statement, Louis winks. Jesus, is he trying to kill Harry? Does he want him
to die? Harry is beginning to think so because it isn’t the first time Louis
has made a comment like that, and he has a sneaking suspicion it certainly
won't be the last.
“They will be blue before that happens. Any sports played with blue balls?”
Harry asks with his own wide smile. Two could play at this game.
“Nope. Just sports players. I’m sure you could help out there, though. You
don’t need to know much, and I could guide your through the process.”
Fuck. Harry can’t play. He doesn’t even know enough innuendos to be on
the same level as Louis. Guide him through the process? Did Louis just hint
at showing him how to give a handjob or maybe a blowjob. Holy fuck.
Harry’s dick twitches in his overly tight jeans at the very thought.
“Um...” Harry audibly swallows, mouth suddenly feeling incredibly dry.
“Come on, Hazzy. Pway wif us!” Harry’s attention snaps to Daisy as she
runs over and grabs his hand, Phoebe coming over to do the same with his
other hand. Harry doesn’t know if he has ever touched a small child until
that very moment other than when he was small child himself. His heart
feels warm when they start pulling on his arms, jumping up and down in
excitement.
“I don’t have anything to wear,” Harry excuses, not having it in him to

outright say no to the little girls. His heart breaks a bit when a pout forms
on Daisy’s lip, reminding him very much of Louis when Harry refused eat
out with them.
“I have some extra gym clothes in my bag in the car. They’re clean. They
should fit you, maybe a little tight, but most of your clothes are anyways,”
Louis supplies, giving Harry’s body another once over.
“So you can pway!” Phoebe exclaims, both girls beginning to jump up and
down again. Harry glaces at Louis, pleadingly. Louis just smiles as if he
knows Harry won’t say no to two adorable little girls. Louis is right. Harry
didn’t think he liked children, but here he was, getting ready to agree to
spend time with Louis outside of school because of them.
“Um-- okay, but I don’t know how,” Harry says looking down and smiling
when both girls cheered, high fiving each other.
“I already told you, Haz. Don’t worry about it; I’ll teach you.” Louis winks,
and Harry is confident he stopped breathing for a full minute trying to
process the information. He is almost positive Louis is flirting with him. He
doesn't know shit about flirting, but it is the only plausible explanation for
Louis’ behavior. “Alright girls, go find Fiz and Lots while I get Harry here
some clothes.” Louis watches with another fond smile as his sisters run up
to his other sisters, excitedly telling them the news. He gestures for Harry to
follow him.
“You just made their day,” he tells Harry as they walk the short distance to
what Harry assumes is Louis’ car. “They don’t get to hang out with anyone
outside of the family when they aren’t in school. Our parents are pretty
strict.” Louis uses his key fob to pop the trunk, quickly locating a gym bag
and rummaging through it, pulling out a pair of athletic shorts and a t-shirt,
victorious expression on his face. Harry takes the proffered items,
wondering why Louis just told him that information, feeling as though it
was a bit personal for the other boy.
“Thanks,” Harry says following the direction Louis is pointing to the public
restrooms. In the far too small stall, he pulls off his skinny jeans and button
up, folding them neatly and laying them on the closed toilet. He only bangs
his elbow on the side of the stall once and only falls twice, thank you very
much. He slips Louis’ too short shorts over his hips, the material clinging to
his thighs. He leaves his bracelets on, knowing they would look ridiculous
but not wanting to deal with alternative. He then takes Louis’ shirt in both
hands. It is a simple light gray t-shirt with navy blocked lettering across the
front. At least it’s gray, and not like, light blue, or something. Gray isn’t too
far off from black. He sighs, wondering for the one hundred and twenty
third time that hour what exactly he has gotten himself into. When he pulls
the material over his head, all he can smell is Louis. Fuck. His dick
instantly gets hard in his shorts just from Louis’ smell. He briefly considers
wanking in the dirty bathroom stall of a public park, but decides to think of
way more disgusting things like pop music, the Republican Party, and
kissing Niall. Kissing Niall. That did it.
He opens the stall door and shuffles outside, squinting at the harsh sunlight.
He supposes it will be okay to run around in his beat up old black converse
shoes. “You didn’t run away,” Louis yells, jogging up to him and another
devastating crinkly eyed grin. He looks Harry up and down, his eyes dark
with what almost looks like desire. The sun must be fucking with Harry’s
head.
“I did not,” Harry confirms because it really is a fucking miracle. What

would Louis’ friends think if they seen him outside of class with Harry?
Liam doesn’t seem that bothered by it, but he is sure that the other jocks
would feel differently.
“You gonna take your bracelets off?” Louis asks, pointing to Harry’s arms.
Harry’s hand automatically goes to wrap around them tightly, feeling as if
they are burning his skin.
“Um-- no. I like to wear them,” Harry excuses lamely, and is relieved when
Louis just nods his head, not pushing the matter.
“Come on.” Louis pats his arm, sending sparks of electricity through him.
“I-- um-- I told you I don’t know how to play,” Harry admits, looking down
and suddenly feeling awkward, holding his clothes in his hands.
“We can teach you. If Phoebe and Daisy can grasp the rules, I am sure a
smart guy like yourself will be just fine.” Louis smiles, probably trying to
put him at ease, and it works. Harry can feel his body relaxing just a bit at
the words. He also feels very nervous, for some reason wanting to impress
Louis and not wanting to embarass himself. He got through his one year of
PE, and that was it. He doesn’t mind physical activity, but he hates sports.
He doesn't understand them, and he just isn’t competitive. Winning or
losing at a sporting event isn’t going to change the world.
“Okay, now that we have Hazza here, we have even teams,” Louis starts,
clapping his hands together when they have made their way over to his
sisters. Daisy and Phoebe cheer at the mention of Harry’s name, well
nickname. Again, what is it with Louis and nicknames anyways? So far he
has given Harry four, if he counts Curly. Harry thinks for a moment, and he
can’t recall one other person who has four nicknames from Louis.
Interesting.
“Haz, you’re gonna be on a team with Fizzy and Daisy. Me, Lottie, and
Phoebe will be on the other team. This is two hand touch football. The rules
are easy, your goal is down there next to Harry’s clothes, and ours is on the
other side, next to the water bottle.” Louis points to the locations, and Harry
thinks he is following so far but he keeps getting distracted by the way
Louis’ thin lips form around words, the cute look of concentration he gets
in his eyes when he is instructing, and the way he gesticulates as he speaks.
Right, Louis is telling him the rules. He should probably pay attention.
“You are not allowed to touch the quarterback unless they start running with
the ball. You are not allowed to tackle, and if you have the ball and get
touched with two hands, not just one Félicité.” Louis looks pointedly at his
sister for the statement who just smiles back at him. Quarterback. Harry
thinks he knows what the Quarterback is. He may have watched a movie
about sports once. The Quarterback is the one that throws the ball, right?
Fuck he hopes so, or he is going to really embarrass himself. “If you have
the ball and get touched with two hands, the play is over. No kicking the
ball or tackling. Each touchdown is worth a point. First to 5, wins?”
Fuck that was a lot of information, and Harry got distracted again by the
way the sunlight was reflecting off of Louis’ brown hair, making some
strands look carmel and the way his blue eyes sparkle with it. Harry thinks
he was counting the freckles on Louis’ tan cheeks when he was talking
about a touchdown. Isn’t that what they call scoring in football? Fuck this is
hopeless. Harry is screwed. At least it won’t require touching Louis much.
Maybe just two hands. Hopefully he doesn't pop a boner just from that.
“Any questions?” Louis asks, looking at Harry in particular. Yes, Harry has
a lot of questions, but none of which pertain to the game of two-hand-touch
that they will be playing. Harry shakes his head, licking his suddenly very
dry lips. “Okay. Lottie and Fizzy are the quarterbacks.”
“What? That’s not fair, Lou! You’re too fast!” Fizzy exclaims, crossing her
arms.
“I don’t make the rules,” Louis says, smug smile on his face.
“What? You literally just made the rules,” Fizzy shoots back, looking like
she really wants to slap her brother. Harry can’t blame her. He is pretty sure
Louis would be fast with his curvy legs and ass. They are going to lose
terribly.
“Alright, ready?” Louis asks, ignoring her and throwing the ball from one
hand to the other, eyes following the movement. He winks at Harry before
they get into their individual team huddles. Harry doesn’t know what to do
or say. He is still trying to figure how this is all happening. He is almost
positive he has somehow landed in the Twilight Zone or that this is a dream,
but quickly realizes it is not when they start playing. Louis’ teams scores
the first point easily, Fizzy being correct when saying that Louis is fast.
Really fucking fast. Harry’s eyes could barely keep up with him as he ran
on the grass down their makeshift goal line. He is just a blur of green and
brown. Jesus. Harry looks like fucking Bambi when he runs, unable to get
his legs to work properly, both seem to want to move independently from
the other.
The first time Harry is passed the ball and actually catches it, he thinks he
may faint. He briefly hears Fizzy yell ‘GO’, as she starts to try to hold off
Louis, and he just runs. He can feel the wind sweeping back his curls, he
glances back to see Louis hot on his heels, so he doubles his efforts,
pumptng his free arm through the air. He doesn’t feel two hands on him
until after he has passed their goal, meaning he actually scored a
touchdown. Holy fucking shit. Harry scored a touchdown. He turns around
in disbelief dropping the football to the ground. Fizzy and Daisy run up to
him, and hug him, which is odd. He doesn’t like being hugged, but he
doesn’t seem to mind it when it is in congratulations.
“Well, well, looks like young Harold can do stuff with balls after all,” Louis
murmurs, once the girls pull away. Harry can feel his ears becoming hotter
with his blush and hopes that it looks like he is just getting sunburned.
“I’m only a year younger than you,” Harry points out. He tells himself that
the only reason he even bothered to remember Louis’ birthday is because it
is the day before Christmas.
“A year and a few months, but still so much to learn,” Louis tsks, picking
up the dropped football and beginning to walk towards his sisters.
“Who’s gonna teach me? Seeing as I just scored on you, it certainly won't
be you since you don’t seem to be very good with balls,” Harry quips. Louis
turns around, eyes narrowed at Harry. Harry just smiles, and the fuck? What
has gotten into him? Harry doesn’t smile, and is he flirting? No, he can’t be.
Harry doesn’t know how to flirt.
“You’re gonna pay for that comment,” Louis threatens, pointing at Harry,
winking, and running towards his sister. Harry shakes his head and follows,
completely unsure of what just happened. He is almost positive he is
hallucinating at this point. This is all just fabricated. Maybe he and Niall are
in his bedroom, and got their hands on some really good weed. Either way,
it can’t be real.
The next hour is spent sweating, running, and mostly laughing. Harry
watches with a fond smile when Louis acts like he can’t catch Daisy,
allowing the small girl to score. She giggles and taunts him, Louis acting
like he is wounded by her words. Fizzy and Harry do the same, allowing
Phoebe to score on them, acting as if she was just too quick to catch. She
eats it up, smiling broadly as if she has just won an Olympic gold medal
and not scored in a game of two-hand-touch football with her siblings. They
are tied, four points each, and Harry’s team has the ball. Fizzy passes the
ball to Harry, and he immediately begins running down the field. What feels
like two seconds later, he feels a body collide with him, tackling him to the
ground roughly. A thrill shoots through Harry’s spine when he looks up to
see Louis is now on top of him, arms still wrapped around his waist,
looking at him with blue eyes and a smirk.
“Thought you said there was no tackling allowed?” Harry asks, feeling his
cock twitch in his shorts from their position. He can feel Louis’ soft dick
against his own through the material of their shorts, and he wants to groan.
Fuck. He can’t get hard now. This is the worst possible time when he has a
gorgeous, probably straight, boy practically straddling him in the park with
his sisters probably running towards them.
“I tripped.” Louis shrugs, smiling down at him. He unwraps his arms and
sits up, looking around for a second. “The fact that I accidently ended up
straddling you after the fall was not my fault at all. Can’t be blamed on me.
I just may be the best way to fall though.” Harry knows his mouth is
hanging open in shock at the comment, and he stares dumbly as Louis
braces both hands on either side of his head, blows him a kiss, and hoist
himself into a standing position. He reaches a hand down, grabbing Harry’s,
and pulls him up soon after. Harry tries to ignore the spark in his spine from
their hands touching and prays that his semi-hard erection is hidden by the
shorts. Fuck.
He barely listens when Louis and Fizzy start arguing over the foul, Louis
maintaining that he tripped. They soon get back into position to run another
play with Harry’s team still having the ball since it is decided that it was, in
fact, a foul. Harry really isn’t paying attention when Fizzy runs the ball,
getting them the winning point. He snaps back to reality when he has his
arms full of two younger girls, jumping up and down against him. “We
never beat, Lou!” Fizzy exclaims, smiling brightly, looking so much like
Louis in that moment it was eerie.
“Yay! Hazzy! We did it!” Daisy ads jumping up on Harry. Harry thankfully
catches her, the little girl quickly wrapping her tiny legs around his waist in
a side hug, squeezing tightly.
“We did,” Harry confirms, still feeling as if his senses are in overload from
Louis’ comment, Louis’ straddling him and now being hugged when he
isn’t used to any of it.
“Good job, guys,” Louis smiles, coming up to them. Harry allows Daisy to
slide down his body, much to her displeasure given the pout marring her
little features.
“Yeah. You should come hang out more often,” Lottie says, coming up to
them holding Phoebe's hand. “It’s nice having an even number.”
“I agree. Harry should hang out with me more often,” Louis concedes, and
Harry doesn’t miss the smug smile on his face. “Well I had better get you
girls home, or Mark is going to have my head.” Louis grabs both of his
youngest sisters’ hands, holding them firmly.
“Yeah. Thanks for-- umm-- inviting me,” Harry replies awkwardly, running
his fingers through his sweaty curls. He makes a mental note to bring a
headband next time, his curls becoming far too long without one. Next
time? What the fuck? There isn’t going to be a next time.
“You’re always invited, love,” Louis whispers the last word so low, Harry
isn’t sure he even heard it correctly. “I have never seen you smile so much.
I like it. The dimples look good on you. Like to see you wearing nothing
else.” Harry doesn’t miss the innuendo in the statement. He stares dumbly
at Louis, as he and his sisters turn towards Louis’ car.
“What about your clothes?” Harry asks, coming back to his senses.
“Bring them to me at school,” Louis shouts from his car, as he and Lottie
buckle the younger girls into their booster seats.
“Okay,” Harry says, grabbing his clothes and waving one last time and
walking in the direction of his home. Harry thinks this has been the
strangest day, but he feels like he has had a lot of those lately since meeting
Louis Tomlinson. He still can’t seem to wipe the smile off his face the
entire way home, debating about texting Niall about how his afternoon was
spent, ultimately deciding against it, not really wanting to have that
conversation again.
Chapter End Notes
Your God
Chapter Summary
Louis meets a friend in the Bible Club then he and Harry have a
discussion of their own. The flirting heats up, and Harry melts down.
Chapter Notes
For those interested, here are links to some of the text Harry mentions
during his and Louis' discussion. Before you get mad, read them. If
you want to have a real theological discussion on this, you know where
to find me. If you want to 'convert me' then go find someone else's
metaphorical door to knock on. Please note: I do have a degree in
Religious studies. Everything written is factual.
Book of Enoch
Gospel of Thomas
The Infancy Gospel of Thomas
Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster
Say something, anything to me
I did believe, but I have doubts
So many reasons to hold on
Conflicting interest, isn't it?
I guess I'm better off in the end
Because you were always there to blame
I haven't felt so bad and I don't know how long you know- Stone Sour
Louis has been searching the school for a potential fake girlfriend for three
days, but the very idea of kissing a girl, fake relationship or not, makes bile
rise in his throat. He should probably get used to it though, because he will
probably end up married to a woman and living a life he hates. He pushes
that unpleasant thought away, committing himself to just living in the now
and not really considering a future of church, a wife, and children.
Speaking of church, he is on his way to the monthly Bible Club that

happens during their lunchtime. He fucking hates it. He would skip, but he
is paranoid that Mark would somehow find out and lead him to find out
other facts about his step-son. Louis shudders at the thought as he opens the
door to the library, where Bible Club is held. Harry said it is ironic that a
Bible Club would be held in a place known for learning and knowledge.
Louis didn’t get it at first, but thinking about it, he is starting to understand
what Harry means. He sits down, not really paying attention to anyone
around him. They open today’s meeting with a prayer. Louis bows his head,
and, for the first time in his life, it feels slightly useless. He pushes that
thought away and imagines he is talking to an all loving father figure in the
clouds. He isn’t all loving though, is he?
“Alright, today during Bible Club, we are going to be breaking into groups
of two,” Jeremiah says softly, standing in front of the group of students. His
checkered button up shirt is tucked into his light khakis, mousy brown hair
parted to the side. Something about the boy annoys Louis, and he isn’t sure
what. Maybe it’s his holier-than-thou attitude or because he probably has a
sign in his closet that says ‘God Hates Fags’. Either way, Louis really
doesn't like him. “When you find your partner, I will pass out a piece of
paper. We will be playing Bible Hangman.”
What the fuck? What are they, like eight? Louis is sure he watched his five
year old sisters play hangman just this weekend. In fact, if it wasn’t for his
younger siblings, Louis probably would have forgotten the game even
existed. This is a game for children, not teenagers. He is snapped out of his
musings by a female voice. “Wanna be my partner?”
“Huh?” Louis asks, brain not really registering what the girl beside him just
said. She is pale with red hair, a small button nose and large brown eyes.
She smiles, almost as if she knows what he is thinking.
“I asked if you want to be my partner in this game?” She repeats her voice
is low and somewhat soothing. It doesn’t grate on his brain like most girls’
voices tend to. She flashes him a small smile, one side of her thin lips
crooked up to the side. She’s cute in a ‘wanna be my fag hag’ sort of way.
“Oh. Why me?” Louis asks, slightly confused as to why she would choose
him out of everyone in the room.
“Because you look like you think this is as fucking ridiculous as I do,” she
responds, smirking when Louis looks a bit shocked at her use of language.
Most people in this shit club won’t go near what they deem to be a ‘dirty
word’ because, again, they are children. “You also look like you don’t
wanna be here, so we could not want to be here together, at least.”
Louis laughs at that, relaxing a bit in his seat, uncrossing his arms. He likes
her already. She reminds him of Harry for some reason, but he can’t for the
life of him figure out why. “Yeah, that's true. Why are you here?” Louis
isn’t really listening as Jeremiah explains the rules because he knows how
to fucking play Hangman, thank you very much.
“Parents,” she says, sighing, and sitting back in her seat, taking the sheets of
paper being handed out. There is nothing flirtatious in her tone, her body
language is open to him, but her legs are crossed in the opposite direction,
telling Louis she really has no interest him. He almost wants to sigh in
relief. “You?”
“Same,” Louis answers, clicking his pen a few times, needing something to
do with his hands. “My name is Louis, by the way. I don’t think we’ve met,
but I’ve seen you around.”
“Willow, but you can call me Will, everyone else does. I’m in eleventh
grade. I’ve seen you around, too, since this school is so fucking small. I
know you’re the new kid, you’re a senior and you play football,” she lists,
using her fingers to count each thing off. Louis gives her a half smile
because it is kind of funny in a way. She seems to know a decent amount
about him, but he knows nothing about her.
“Well it’s nice to meet you, Willow,” Louis says smiling and sitting up in
his chair, giving her a hand shake. She returns his smile, and they get to
work playing the stupid game. They mostly laugh through it, their chosen
words and phrases getting more and more satirical as the game progresses.
After Willow chose the word, Jezebel, Louis knew she would be fine with
his phrase choice of ‘seven wives of David’. Willow laughed loudly at that,
causing their stick-up-the-ass club peers to glare at them. Louis decides to
go out on a limb with his next phrase choice, biting his lip hoping it will go
over the way he wants. With shaky lines, he draws the hanging post, and
draws sixteen dashes, the appropriate spaces between each of the three
words.
“Hmm,” she studies the blank spaces with squinted brown eyes, placing her
index finger and thumb on her jaw in thought. She only has the legs left to
guess before she loses. She has managed to guess some correct letters
including ‘a’, ‘r’, and ‘m’. “O” she guesses.
“Yes,” Louis tells her, filling in the four o’s in the phrase. Her eyes light up
when she sees where they are placed, probably figuring it out.
“Sodom and Gomorrah!” She shouts triumphantly prompting Drag-emiah

to shush them and give them a dirty look that he probably hopes sends them
straight to hell for their insolence. Louis giggles when she rolls her eyes.
“Correct!” He exclaims just as loudly because fuck these assholes. Well not
literally, he doesn't think he would actually fuck a single one of them. The
only person he currently wants to fuck is Harry, and that doesn’t seems to
be happening anytime soon.
“What a crock of shit,” she says looking down at the words on the paper.
Louis doesn’t miss it when she quickly glances across the room to a girl
laughing at something her partner had said. Interesting.
“I agree. It’s bullshit really,” he responds, trying to get a feel for her
thoughts on homosexuality. He doesn't even know his own thoughts on it,
but he needs to know hers.
“Yeah. I don’t see what’s wrong with being attracted to the same sex,” she
replies this time more quietly, glancing at the girl again. Could she be? No.
No way. Statistically speaking, there should be more than one gay student at
the school, but has Louis found another one? He would count Harry, but
Harry is impossible to read therefore he is completely unsure about his
sexuality. He thinks he may have felt a hard on below Harry’s shorts on
Saturday, but he can’t be sure. It was probably a figment of his overactive
and very horny imagination. Straddling a very cute boy with chocolate curls
probably did weird things to his mind. Louis shakes his head, realizing his
thoughts about Harry have run away with him again. Tends to happen a lot,
if he’s honest.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Louis says with a smile, just as Jeremiah makes his
way to the front of the room, clapping his hands loudly.
“Thank you all for coming today. We will close the club in prayer, please
bow your heads,” he instructs. For the first time in his life, Louis doesn’t
bow his head in prayer. Instead he silently thinks about his observation
regarding Willow. He decides he needs to get to know her a bit better, but
he may have a plan. After the prayer is over, he gathers his things and
smiles when he sees the blonde that Willow was eyeing, walking in their
direction.
“Hey, Willow,” she waves, smiling broadly. Willow’s cheeks suddenly

become the same shade as her hair, as she looks down, not making eye
contact with the other girl. Interesting.
“Hi,” Willow squeeks out, when the silence stretches out making the whole
thing feel awkward. Willow finally looks up, smiling at Tara. Well, it’s
more of a grimace if Louis is perfectly honest, but at least she tried.
“I was wondering how you think you did on the math test,” Tara says after
another few moments of pregnant silence. Louis is learning so much just
from the three sentences that has been said between them, the silence
speaking more than the words ever could.
“Oh umm-- I-- umm-- I think I d-did okay,” Willow stutters out, playing
with her fingers in a way that reminds Louis very much of Harry when
Louis flirts with him.
“Awesome. Me too,” Tara’s sentence trails off, her blue eyes finally landing
on Louis.
“Louis? Right?” She asks, eyes narrowing. Her question almost seems--
jealous. Fuck. This keeps getting better and better.
“Yup, and you’re Tara. Willow has told me so much about you,” he lies,
shooting Willow a knowing smile. Willow glances down quickly, her face
becoming more red with each passing moment. He hopes his comment has
smoothed things over with Tara.
“Oh. Um-- that’s cool. Well, anyways, I have to go. I’ll be late if I don’t.
See you in class, Will, and it was nice meeting you Louis,” she waves then
disappears out the door. Willow visibly deflates when she is out of sight, a
deep sigh coming from her chest. They walk out of the library together in
silence. She waves once before they part ways, each heading in a different
direction. Louis’ head is spinning with the new information, starting a plan.
He wants to watch her a bit more first.
__________
“Didn’t see you at lunch,” Harry says by way of greeting when Louis sits
down behind him in Creative Writing. Fuck. He told himself he would
never initiate conversation with Louis, but here he is, letting his inquisitive
nature get the best of him. He is just so used to Louis always being around,
that’s all. He noticed that he was nowhere to be found during lunch. He saw
him in the lunch line, then eating with Liam for a few minutes then he just
disappeared, and Harry is curious. Just curious. That’s all.
“Miss me, Curly?” Louis asks, smirking at Harry who just rolls his eyes in
response. It’s his own fault really. He should never have said anything.
“No,” Harry insists, even though it’s kind of a lie. He didn’t really miss
him, he just noticed when he wasn’t there. When Louis smirks at him again,
all Harry can see is the same smirking face that was straddling him on
Saturday. The sun behind him making his hair look almost like a halo.
Harry doesn’t believe in angels, but Louis is probably the closest he will
ever come to one.
“I was in Bible Club, if you must know,” Louis tells him, and of course
Louis was in Bible Club. Harry didn’t even think of that because he doesn’t
care when Bible Club meets or if there is even a club for it. He was invited
once. It was quite hilarious seeing the look on the dude’s face when Harry
told him that he worships at the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster. He
hopes he Googled it later since education is important.
“Do you just all sit in a cross formation and read from the Bible for an
hour?” Harry asks, and, much to his surprise, Louis lets out a loud laugh,
covering his mouth with a small hand, eyes shiny in the fluorescent lights.
Harry thought he would be offended by the joke, not actually laugh.
“May as well have been. We played Bible Hangman,” Louis tells him,
getting out his notebook and a pencil, sitting the items on his desk. His
notebook is mangled, with doodles all over the cover. Harry can make out a
paper aeroplane, a stick figure skateboarding, and a spider web. Harry
smiles down at the small doodles, having a few of his own in his journal.
“Bible Hangman? What are you, fucking five?” Harry asks, brows drawn in
confusion because Louis couldn’t be serious. The Bible Club surely didn’t
expect teenagers to play a game made for children.
“Eight actually, but those were my thoughts exactly,” Louis responds,

glancing up as Miss More tells them to work in groups on their newest
assignment. Harry turns to Louis, as if they are actually going to discuss the
assignment. He glances over at Niall who seems to have distracted Liam,
debating about the pros and cons of first person. Harry agrees with Niall,
writing in first person is terrible.
“Well, children also have imaginary friends, so it’s not that different I
suppose,” Harry points out with a shrug, watching Louis’ expression as he
understands exactly what Harry was inferring with the statement.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Louis asks with the most endearing look
on his face, a mixture of intrigue and offence.
“I am simply pointing out that believing there is a man in the sky who
grants your wishes if you do good deeds is the equivalent to a child having
an imaginary friend.” Harry then stands up, straddles his chair so the back
of it is pressed against his chest and interlocks his fingers, placing them on
Louis’ desk, giving the other boy his full attention. Louis’ blue eyes squint
as if trying to think of a reply.
“That is hardly the same thing,” is what he comes up with, and he doesn’t
even look like he believes what he is saying.
“I think it is. I mean, think about it, Lou,” Harry pauses when the nickname
slips from his mouth, but quickly recovers, not wanting to draw attention to
his mistake. “Both religious people and children with imaginary friends
wholeheartedly believe that a being exists with no physical evidence. They
talk with that being, ask it for favors, and even make up backstories about
its existence. Tell me, how is it any different?”
He watches as Louis considers his question, clearly getting frustrated when

he doesn’t seem to have a real answer. “It’s not the same because God
exists.”
“Do you have proof?”
“I have faith.”
“That doesn't count, Louis. Faith isn’t proof. Having a feeling in your heart
does not make it true. Facts and evidence are what make something real.”
Harry is giving calm, calculated answers. The same answers he gave
himself when he was first starting to come to the conclusion that religion
was bullshit after everything that had happened to him.
“So you don’t have faith in anything?” Louis asks, clearly diverting from
the current discussion. Harry thinks about the question for a moment
because he hasn’t really been asked that in a long time.
“I have faith in science, evidence, and nature,” Harry answers finally,

watching as Louis puckers his lips a little, mulling Harry’s words over in
his head. He looks like an angry hedgehog, and if it wasn’t for the
seriousness of their conversation, Harry would have kind of wanted to kiss
him.
“The Bible is proof,” Louis says pointing triumphantly, his eyes lighting up
as if he got one on Harry. Harry shakes his head though, and Louis looks
him curiously.
“No, it’s not.”
“How so?” Louis asks, curiosity marring his features.
“The Bible was written by men. It wasn’t written by some divine hand,”
Harry answers, and he already knows what Louis is going to say. He just
lets the other boy walk into the trap.
“It was written by God through man,” Louis corrects, and there it is. The
answer Harry knew was coming.
“Do you seriously believe that though? If someone in this day and age were
to say ‘God spoke to me, and I wrote it down in a book. Here it is, so
worship his word,’ we would put them in a mental hospital because they are
clearly psychotic. Don’t even get me started on all of the books from that
time period that the Catholic Church deemed less than desirable, so they say
it's not canon.” Louis looks like he is having an internal battle with himself,
and that he may cry at any moment. Harry kind of wants to hug him and tell
him that it will be okay. That a world without God is okay, because it is the
same world it was before. He doesn’t though, just lets him find out for
himself. If he wants to actually talk about it though, Harry knows he will be
there to listen. He has no idea why, but he will be.
“What do you mean other books?” Louis asks finally, his voice barely
above a whisper. He is looking down at his desk, but it seems more like he
is looking through it, lost in thought.
“There are loads of other books and gospels written by supposed prophets.
Bet they didn’t teach you that in Church. There is the Book of Enoch, which
was found with the Dead Sea Scrolls. You know what those are, right?”
Harry asks, a small smile on his face.
“Yes. I know what those are,” Louis answers, gaze finally landing on Harry.
He looks paler for some reason, his eyes searching Harry for answers Harry
isn’t sure he has.
“Well the Book of Enoch was found amongst those. It is a lot and an
interesting read. It is only canon in the Ethiopian Bible. Most Christian
sects do not accept it as canon, and by canon I mean books that aren’t
accepted by the Catholic church and therefore are not allowed in the bible.
The Gospel of Matthew is canon, for example, while the Book of Enoch is
not,” Harry explains, thinking back to his late night research a few years
ago.
“But if it was found with the scrolls, then why isn’t it canon?” Louis asks.
“That’s a good question. You will have to ask your Church that. Churches
do love to cherry pick, though. Maybe it didn’t fit in with their narrative.
I’m not sure.”
“Is that the only one?” Louis asks, and Harry thinks it is kind of funny that
an atheist seems to be teaching Louis more about his own religion than
years of Church and Bible study.
“Nope,” Harry answers popping the ‘p’. “Like I said there are more. Um…”
He pauses, thinking about another book he has read about. “There is the
Gospel of Thomas. That one is super interesting, but it’s not shocking why
it wasn’t included in the canonical text.” Harry hopes his words are
tempting, and when Louis looks even more intrigued, he knows he’s won.
“What happens in it?”

“Are you sure you wanna know?” Harry asks, giving Louis a chance to stay
in his lovely little bubble. When Louis nods, Harry smiles, feeling proud for
some unfathomable reason. “Well first, it insinuates that Jesus actually had
a twin brother. The Infancy Gospel of Thomas writes about Jesus as a small
child, which is interesting considering the canon text is missing 30 some
odd years. Canonically, his birth is discussed, then it pretty much skips to
his death, but the Gospels of Thomas discusses his childhood. At one point,
another child bumped into him on the street, it angered him, so he killed the
child. When the people around them see the dead child and become fearful,
he makes them all go blind. There are a lot more stories. You can find them
online if you’re curious.”
“If you’re an atheist, then why do you know so much about religion?”
Louis asks, his question genuine.
Harry thinks about it for a moment, wanting to give Louis a truthful answer
for once, but not too truthful. There are many reasons why he knows so
much about religion. Since he began really examining it after the worst day
of his life, but his main reason is simple. “Know your enemy.”
Louis looks like he has seen a ghost. His face is pale and his hands have the
slightest tremor. Harry barely stops himself from reaching out and holding
them, since they are mere inches away from his own hands. Louis swallows
dryly, his throat bobbing with the action and licks his lips. He looks almost
spaced out, as if he is so lost in his thoughts, he may never resurface. A
silence settles over them for a few minutes, Louis staring off into the
distance, barely breathing. Harry is getting worried about him, so he takes
pity on him, glancing around the room to make sure nobody is really
watching them.
“Look, Lou, it’s fine if you don’t believe me or if you wanna see for
yourself. I am just stating facts. I just find it fascinating what the canonical
text of the Bible doesn’t include, yet…” he pauses, unsure if he wants to
continue his thought. He takes a deep breath and plows on, “yet they are
more than happy to keep terrible text from the old testament in there about
stoning women for being promiscuous or that homosexuality is an
abomination.” The bell signaling the end of the period rings with Harry’s
last statement, seeming to snap Louis out of his trance. Louis mutters a
goodbye and shoots Harry a small almost pained smile. Harry exhales
through his mouth, unsure of what the fuck just happened.
__________
Louis has been trying not to dwell too much about the conversation he had
with Harry a few days ago. That night, he lay awake lost in thought about
what Harry had said. He found his laptop, turning it on and dimming the
screen, not wanting his parents to know what he was doing. It was like he
was getting ready to search for porn and not for the information Harry had
provided earlier that day. He Googled the books Harry had mentioned and
had no trouble finding them. He spent the next two hours pouring over the
information, brain spinning with it all. Harry didn’t lie, at all. Those texts
were real; he was even honest about where the Book of Enoch was found.
At nearly 2 am, Louis shut his computer and scrubbed at his eyes, trying to
erase the conversation from his mind, but it wouldn’t budge. His discussion
with Harry left more questions than answers, and he hadn’t been expecting
that at all. He thought when they would discuss religion, he would know
more than Harry being that he was the one that believed in God, but that
wasn’t the case. In fact, he learned more in his half and hour conversation
with Harry than he had in his years of Church and Bible Study. He went to
bed, dreaming of prophets and angels, but he wasn’t sure he believed any of
it.
He didn’t tell Harry of his thoughts though, instead they went back to
quietly passing notes, Louis occasionally flirting with the the other boy. He
is starting to be able to read him just a bit more. For example, Louis has
found the tip of his ears turn pink when he is being flirted with, however,
his ears are mostly covered by is longish curls, so he can barely ever see it.
Harry also scrunches up his nose just the tiniest bit when he is lying, or
perhaps not telling the entire truth. He wipes the tip of his nose when he
doesn’t want to answer a question, and coughs when he feels
uncomfortable. Louis feels like he needs to start writing this shit down,
almost as if it is a code to how to crack Harry Styles.
He has also been watching Willow from afar in the hallways and during
lunch. They even talk occasionally between classes, her sense of humor is
much like his own, but there is just something about her that reminds him of
Harry. Louis just can’t figure out exactly what it is, but he is sure he will put
his finger on it sooner or later. He is currently nervous, because he is going
to ask her something after class is over, and it could either work out in his
favor or go very, very wrong. He hopes it is the former. He is running out of
time and options.
He sighs then takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, looking
around for something or someone to distract him. Harry. Harry is sitting
beside him on one of the long black tables. Liam and Niall sitting on Louis’
other side. Originally Niall had sat next to Harry, but Louis stole his spot
enough times for Niall to get the hint. Harry is looking down at his work,
effectively ignoring him, and that just won’t do. He pokes him on his cheek,
right where his dimple would be if he were smiling. Louis may or may not
have memorized the location the first time he caught a peek of it.
“What?” Comes Harry’s deep voice, glancing up from his work to meet
Louis’ eyes.
“I don’t know. I’m bored,” Louis says, shrugging. He isn’t. He needs to be

distracted for the last fifteen minutes of class, and Harry is his favorite type
of distraction.
“Okay,” Harry responds, going back to his work. Louis sighs again, hoping
to annoy him. When that doesn’t work, he glances around, making sure
nobody is watching, and places a finger on Harry’s knee, working it up his
thigh before Harry jumps and pulls away.
He grins when Harry glares at him, lifting up both arms in a stretch. Louis
can hear the bones cracking with it. The bracelets fall down his arm just a
tiny bit, touching the rolled up sleeve of his flannel, when he notices
something. “Fuck. Is that a tattoo?” Louis asks pointing to the black
padlock on the top of Harry’s wrist peeking out between the bracelets. He
could have sworn it wasn’t there earlier that day, but he could be wrong
since the jewelry always covers it.
“No. It’s just sharpie,” Harry answers, glancing down at it then back up
Louis. He moves his hand quickly, repositioning the bracelets, so that it
covers the drawing.
“Oh,” Louis says, relieved. “That’s good. I don’t really like tattoos.” He
scrunches up his nose at the thought.
“Why? ‘Cause they’re against the Bible?” Harry asks, leaning his body
more towards Louis, so he could hear his low voice. Louis leans a bit
further, because, well he wants to be closer, sue him. When their elbows
touch on the table, Harry’s eyes widen a bit, but he doesn’t pull away. The
touch gives Louis butterflies for whatever reason.
“Yeah, and I don’t know. I think they look kind of trashy or something,”
Louis answers, honestly. He has had that thought about tattoos for a long
time, never quite understanding the appeal of marking your body in such a
permanent way.
“I want a tattoo,” Harry tells him, and oh.
“Don’t,” Louis says, even though now his mind is very much wanting to
know what Harry would look like with a tattoo.
“Not your body.” Harry rolls his eyes, clearly getting annoyed with Louis’
attitude.
“You have such pretty skin and a lovely body, would be a shame to mark it
up like that.” Louis allows his gaze to sweep over Harry’s long pale limbs.
He has imagined those limbs arranged in a variety of different positions,
including but not limited to caging him in, under him, and his personal
favorite, holding him against a wall.
“Would you rather mark it in different ways?” Harry asks, and fuck he was
not expecting Harry to say that in his deep, deep voice with his sinful
mouth. Louis’ dick twitches at the thought of sucking a red bruise into
Harry’s long neck even though he has never seen the appeal of being
marked or marking someone else. Didn’t help that his mind was already in
the gutter.
“Yeah. Actually, I would,” he answers, smiling when he realizes Harry’s

pupils are dilated. He looks down, spotting a black sharpie poking out of the
tight pocket of Harry’s skinny jeans. Before Louis can second guess his
actions, he uses two fingers to slide it out. Harry looks surprised and
confused by the action. Louis glances around again, making sure nobody is
watching. He takes Harry’s hand, and jesus it’s huge. Louis allows himself
to imagine, for a brief moment, what it would look like wrapped around his
dick. He shakes the thought away, going back to what he originally had
planned.
He can feel Harry’s curious green eyes on him as he turns Harry’s hand
palm up. He skims his fingers over the soft skin of his palm, wanting to
memorize every line incase Harry never lets him do this again. He glances
up at Harry one more time, smirking as he opens the marker, then writes an
‘L’ in the dead center of Harry’s ridiculously wide palm. He admires the
letter for a minute then looks up to find Harry staring at it. After a few
moments, Harry looks up, meeting his gaze. Louis can’t tell what is going
through Harry’s mind, like normal, but he doesn't look angry. In fact, his
pupils are still blown and his lips are red, as if he had been biting them
recently.
The final bell of the day rings, effectively ending their moment. Harry looks
around, moving the hand with Louis’ initial below the table out of Louis’
view, but Louis thinks he may be adjusting himself. Louis is in the same
boat, so he doesn't say anything as he discreetly does the exact same thing.
Harry bolts out the door before he gets a chance to say goodbye. Louis tries
to push the thought of Harry’s soft skin covered in tattoos out of his mind as
he looks for Willow once he leaves the room. He finds her in the hallway at
her locker. He is suddenly feeling really nervous again, so he wipes his
clammy hands on his jeans and strides towards her. She smiles when she
sees him and waves a silent hello.
“Hey. Um-- do you got a minute to talk,” he asks, glancing around the
crowded hallway, “privately,” he adds for good measure.
“Yeah, sure. Everything alright?” She asks, curious expression on her face.
“Yeah, fine,” Louis answers looking around and spotting an empty

classroom, he pulls her inside, shutting the door firmly behind them. His
breaths are coming out in short pants and he tries to calm his heart rate. He
goes to hop on the teacher’s desk, swinging his legs as his VANS repeatedly
hit the metal frame.
“No offence, but you’re kind of scaring me, Louis. What’s this about?” Her
red eyebrows are drawn into a frown, brown eyes wide with concern as she
stares at him suspiciously.
Louis sighs, and decides to just jump straight to the point. He would laugh
at his double meaning of the word straight, but he is too fucking nervous.
“Look. I know you’re in love with that Tara girl.”
“What? No--no I’m not,” she stutters out backing away from him a bit. She
looks frightened like she may run at any moment, so Louis needs to act fast.
Her breaths are coming out short and quick, as she glances around the room
as if looking for something that could help her out of this.
“It’s okay. I promise I won't tell anyone,” Louis starts, holding both hands
up at his chest in a non threatening gesture.
“Tell anyone what?” She asks, narrowing her dark eyes at him.
“That you’re gay. That you are in love with Tara,” Louis answers easily, not
wanting to pretend for a second that he doesn’t know. He hops off the desk
and moves towards her.
“I never said that.” She almost whispers the statement, avoiding Louis’ eyes
as she looks at the window, the rain beating down on the glass.
“Will, you didn’t have to. It is written all over your face, but it’s fine. I kind
of was hoping we could come to an agreement,” Louis says and knows it
immediately comes out wrong.
“Are you blackmailing me?” She asks, anger in her tone, eyes finally
snapping to his. Louis immediately backs up, because she is kind of scary
when she’s angry. He didn’t mean to upset her, this whole conversation isn’t
going like he had planned in his head.
“No! God no! Not at all. I just. I need your help. Regardless of your answer,
I promise I will keep your secret and hope we can still be friends. Please,
just listen to me though,” Louis pleads hoping to convey how important this
is with his eyes.
“Go on,” she replies, visibly relaxing in front of him.
Louis releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he steps forward,

getting closer to her because he doesn't want to say this next part too loudly
even though they are in a closed off classroom away from the ears of their
fellow classmates. He takes a deep breath because this will be the first time
he says it out loud too, but he thinks of kissing a girl again. He thinks of
Harry, and hopes this will be worth it. He prays this doesn’t backfire.
“I’m--” he starts, but pauses, not sure if he can actually say the words out
loud. Saying them out loud means acknowledging them. He clears his
throat, deciding to go with a different choice of words, because he just
can’t. “I’m just like you.” He bites his lip, hoping she would get his
meaning without making him actually say the words out loud. He just, he
doesn't know if he can. Not yet. It’s one thing to give into his urges when he
is less than sober with total strangers, but a completely different thing to say
it vocally.
“Okay, but that still doesn’t tell me what you want,” she crosses her arms,
but her features soften almost as if she is relieved to know she isn’t the only
gay student in school.
“Okay. I don’t wanna bore you with the details, so here’s the gist. My step-
dad Mark is a total dick, and my entire family is religious, which I’m sure
you understand,” he pauses his statement, watching as she nods her head
because she clearly understands. “Well anyways, my step-dad has been on
my ass about getting a girlfriend since I started at this school. I normally
just find some overly christian bimbo who won’t expect sex, and pretend,
but I-- I just don’t think I can this time. The mere thought of kissing
someone who isn’t--” he almost finishes the sentence with Harry, but stops
himself swallowing the name back, “of kissing a girl makes me want to
puke.”
“Funny, I have the opposite problem,” she cracks with a smile prompting
Louis to laugh about the absurdity of the situation. Just like that, the tension
in the room is broken. Louis feels like he can breath again, as if a weight
has been lifted off his chest. He didn’t realize how much not telling anyone
was weighing on him, but now that his secret is somewhat out, he feels as
though he is breathing for the first time. “So let me guess where you are
going with this. You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend to keep your
step-dad off your back?”
“Yes, but I thought it could also help you. You said your parents are
religious. They have to be wondering why you don’t have a boyfriend,” he
ventures, and when she releases her arms to her side and sighs, he knows he
is correct in her assumption.
“So you want to fake date?” She clarifies again.
“Yes. Nothing major. Maybe holding hands around school, coming to my

house for dinner with my parents, hanging out with each others friends.
You’re the coolest girl I know, and I just-- I can’t stomach the thoughts of
fake dating another girl when she thinks it is real dating. I just-- fuck I
can’t.”
“Okay. I’ll do it. It’s not like Tara will actually care, and it will get my
parents off my case, too,” she says after a few moments of thought, the first
part almost comes out bitterly. Louis sighs in relief that this whole thing
didn’t backfire on him, but he feels just a stab of guilt over the whole Tara
situation. He pushes it away, because he knows this is what is best for both
of them.
“What’s your number? We can come up with a story over the weekend of
how we met and shit,” Louis tells her, pulling out his phone and handing it
to her.
“Yeah that’s fine,” she replies typing in her number and shooting a quick
text to herself, so she has his.
“Thank you. Fuck thank you so much for doing this; you have no idea,”
Louis tells her, giving her a meaningful look. He almost hugs her, but they
aren’t to that level of friendship yet, but he hopes they can be. He starts
making his way to the door, not wanting to be any more late for football
practice, when he hears her voice and freezes.
“One more thing, Lou.” He hears her say, so he turns around and faces her,
uncertain about her next statement. “Who are you in love with?”
“What?” Louis splutters because he was not expecting that question at all.
“Who are you in love with?” She asks again, words measured and slow.
“I’m not--” Louis begins, placing a hand over his heart. He feels like a deer
caught in the headlights, like he can’t move under her gaze, and that she is
seeing into his very soul.
“I can see it in your eyes. If you’re not in love, you definitely have a crush.
It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me right now. I just-- I wanna help.” She
gives him a small smile, and runs a hand down his arm in a comforting
gesture. “You know my crush, so it only seems fair.” She smiles one last
time and is gone, the door shutting quietly behind her. Louis is still standing
rooted to the spot, unsure of what just happened. He thinks he could cry
with relief though because he doesn’t really have to pretend to be someone
he isn’t with her.
__________
“Come on, H, it’s our senior year. You have to go to homecoming game,”
Niall begs him over their lunch of shitty fucking pizza.
“No. It’s stupid. Picking a single week of school where people dress up like
fools depending on the day to lead up to a football game where we are
forced to show school spirit is the dumbest fucking concept we as a society
have ever come up with, save religion in general. Why does it fucking
matter if we win a football game? Will it impact the world in any way…”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all before. You should at least go to the dance,
though.” Niall rolls his eyes at what he knows was the beginning of another
rant about religion and football from Harry.
“Oh an even better idea. Of course I’d want to go to some antiquated sexist
dance where everyone's aim is to spike the punch and lose their virginity.
Since I have more than three brain cells, that doesn't sound like my idea of a
good time, Ni,” Harry responds. School dances are fucking stupid. He hates
being around his classmates on a normal day, why on earth would he
choose to be around them when he doesn't have to be? It is just another
excuse to show who is the most popular and who has the most money. The
ridiculous amount of time and energy people put into things that don't
matter is unfathomable to Harry.
“Stop the fucking rant, H. I get it. You’re an asshole,” Niall waves away,
rolling his eyes at his stubborn friend. “Louis would probably love it if you
went though.”
“What does Louis have to do with this?” Harry asks, wondering how he
was even brought into the conversation, but Niall always finds a way it
seems.
“He likes you, and he’s the Running Back of the team, Haz,” Niall answers,
looking at Harry like he has two heads for not knowing the position Louis
plays.
“I figured he played something that had to do with running. He is incredibly

fast,” Harry says, mostly to himself pointedly ignoring the first part of the
sentence, while he takes a bite of the cardboard his school calls pizza, but
hey, beggars can't be choosers. It’s not like he has any food waiting for him
at home when he gets out of school. He has to eat what is available even
though it is cardboard with shitting bits imitation pepperoni on top with
something that is passable as cheese. It is exactly 3.6 seconds later when he
realizes he fucked up with the comment. He holds his breath to see if Niall
will pick up on what he had just said.
“Yeah. Running Back,” Niall agrees then drops his pizza slice on his tray
and fixes Harry with quizzical blue eyes. Harry swallows dryly, waiting for
the question he knows is coming. “Wait, I smell somthin’ fishy. How do
you know he is fast? When have you seen him run? I know for a fact
you’ve never seen him play in any of his football games.”
“Um--” Harry briefly considers lying, but he knows Niall will see right
through him. He is a terrible liar, and Niall knows all of his tells. He decides
to go with his usual approach, giving as little information as possible. “I
saw him at the park this weekend after my interview.”
“Is that why you didn’t text me back for hours after your interview? You
were with him?” Niall accuses loudly, pointing a finger at Harry.
“Shh, Ni. Fuck,” Harry says, puckering his lips and placing a finger up to
them trying to get his very loud friend to shut the fuck up. He doesn't need
the entire fucking school to know he hung out with Louis over the weekend.
“Harry, you’ve been keeping shit from me, which hurts because I am
supposed to be your best friend,” Niall responds, and he really does look
hurt. Harry can’t handle that. He may be a heartless bastard, but not even a
serial killer could handle the look Niall is giving him. Fuck.
“I just ran into him at the park when I had finished my interview. He was
with his sisters. They asked me to play two-hand-touch with them. That’s
all. End of story,” Harry explains, sighing afterwards.
“So you played two-hand-touch, as in football, in your interview outfit?”

Niall asks disbelievingly, and yes, when it is said that way, then it does
sound unbelievable. Harry barely believes it happened himself. He would
think it was a dream if it weren’t for Louis’ clothes sitting neatly folded on
his bed, waiting to be returned to Louis. Harry kept forgetting them. He
almost hated when he washed them because then they no longer smelled
like the other man.
“Um-- no-- not really. Louis had some extra clothes that he let me borrow,”
Harry mumbled looking down at his food, not wanting to meet Niall’s eyes.
He feels like a child who was caught with their hand in the cookie jar.
“This shit just keeps getting better and better,” Niall says with a shit eating
grin. He claps his hands together, rubbing them back and forth as if it were
Christmas morning, and Santa brought him an Xbox.
“It’s not like that. His little sisters begged me, and I couldn’t turn them
down.” It was a lame excuse even to Harry’s ears. Niall’s smile didn’t even
falter with it, in fact, it got bigger.
“So, already meeting the family, I see. What else happened? Give me
details.” Niall’s eyes are sparkling with amusement, his lunch forgotten.
When Niall forgets about food, Harry knows he is interested in the
conversation because Niall never forgets about food.
“Nothing,” Harry insists, but he can feel a blush rising on his cheeks when
he remembers ‘the straddling incident’ as he has been referring to it in his
head, and Louis’ words while it was happening. His cock twitches in his
overly tight jeans. Fuck.
“Bullshit. You’re blushing, something else had to have happened. You

never blush unless it involves Louis Tomlinson.” Niall points an accusatory
finger at him. Harry sighs, knowing he will probably give in soon.
“Fine. There may have been an accidental straddling incident,” Harry

replies, not making eye contact with his friend. He is fidgeting, his toes
turned inward under the table. He really didn’t want to admit it outloud and
his face feels hot. It sounds so much worse than it is out loud, and he was
really trying not to think about it. He has already stopped himself from
wanking to the memory more times than he can count.
“How do you ‘accidentally’ straddle someone, Haz? You can accidentally

lose your keys or accidentally trip over your own feet, but you don’t
accidentally straddle someone.” Niall looks unconvinced, but remembers he
has food and takes a large bite of his pizza.
“It was an accident,” Harry defends, finally meeting Niall's gaze. “He
tackled me, and we kind of just sort of ended up that way.”
“But you said it was two-hand-touch. Why would he have tackled you?”
Niall argues, letting his pizza fall to the tray again and fixes Harry with a
hard stare, practically daring him to lie.
“Um-- he said he tripped,” Harry says shrugging because he really did say
he tripped.
“Yeah, and I am the Easter Bunny,” Niall says rolling his eyes.
“Anyways, I am not going to homecoming,” Harry says, changing the

subject because he doesn't think his poor neglected cock can even handle
anymore discussion of the straddling incident.
“You have that night off. You already told me as much. Think about it,
please? It will be fun, and it will get you out of the house,” Niall begs.
“Fine. I will think about it, but no promises,” Harry tells him, finishing off
his pizza and standing up to take his tray to the trash.
“Alright. I’ll see you in class. I need to go catch Luke to see if he needs any
help on his math homework,” Niall says, getting up and taking his tray in
the opposite direction. Harry waves, dumping his tray in the trash can then
placing it in it’s designated spot.
He turns around, surprised to see Louis talking to Liam, but Louis isn’t just
with Liam. He is with Willow, and his arm is wrapped around her waist, his
small hand resting on her hip stroking absentmindedly. What the fuck? Why
is Louis holding her that way? Why-- why is he holding her with his hand
on her fucking hip? Louis can't. He can't be holding her that way. Not after
everything that has transpired between them. Not after the fucking
straddling incident. Harry was beginning to actually believe that Louis liked
him, as more than just a friend. He can't go through this again. Not again.
This can’t be happening again. He feels bile rise in his throat as the pizza
turns over in his stomach. How could he have been so stupid? His eyes
come back up to Louis’ face making eye contact for a brief second. Louis’
expression is unreadable from this distance, but Harry just knows there is
probably a smug smirk there, taunting him. This was probably his plan all
along. Torment the weird kid. How could he have been so stupid as to
believe that this was anything other than that?
Harry quickly turns around and walks away, not giving Louis a chance to
react, to lie again, leaving the school completely. He can’t deal with
anymore of Louis’ lies. He was just starting to believe him and now this?
Louis and Willow are obviously dating. You don’t just stand like that,
holding someone so intimately in the hallway with a hand on their hip. He
needs to get the fuck away. His heart is in his throat, beating erratically, and
his limbs start to shake. He absentmindedly scratches at the skin under his
bracelets, feeling the raised scars under his fingernails from so long ago,
taunting him, serving as a reminder of the past. He knows he will get in
trouble, but he doesn't care. He just wants to get as far away from the school
and as far away from Louis as possible. Not like his mom would actually do
anything if he skips school. The school officials probably won’t even notice
he isn’t there. Words from his past float through his mind like dark clouds
in the sky.
I hope you enjoy your time in hell you fag.
His eyes are stinging with unshed tears as he walks home, begging himself
not to cry over Louis, and the fact that Louis seems to now have a
girlfriend. He just can’t fathom it. Louis has a girlfriend. It’s the only
possible conclusion to their close proximity to one another in the hallway.
Louis is dating Willow. Willow the person he works with. He should have
known better than to believe Louis had actually been flirting with him. Why
would a guy like Louis ever be interested in someone as low on the social
scale as Harry? Harry is nothing. Barely a blip on the radar of their high
school. He feels so fucking naive to have ever let himself be convinced that
Louis was actually interested in him. He made the same mistake twice.
Harry runs his fingers through his dark curls pulling hard while silently
belittling himself with words like ‘stupid’, ‘naive’, and ‘idiotic’.
Why on Earth would anyone ever be interested in a freak like you?

When he finally gets home, he goes straight to his bedroom, pulling off all
of his clothes and jewellery. He sees Louis’ clothes neatly folded on his
bed, and he breaks. He grabs them and throws them across the room, so
angry with the reminder of his own stupidity. That day at the park was one
of the best days he has had in awhile. He actually felt happy, and he
thought-- he thought Louis was really flirting with him that day. With the
jokes about balls and straddling and all of that. He was, wasn’t he? He
watches as the clothes fall to the floor of his bedroom in a small heap,
reminding him of when he first put them on. The smell of Louis taking over
his senses. Fuck.
You’re disgusting. You’re so fucking stupid for thinking any of this was real.
He is shaking when he sits down on the bed, fat tears streaming down his
face landing on his chest just staring at the stupid fucking clothes. A painful
reminder of his own stupidity. Memories from middle school flash through
his mind, the faces being replaced by Louis’. He feels like he can’t breathe,
as if something heavy is sitting on his chest. It hurts, and his breath is
coming out in short puffs. He looks down at the scars littering his forearm,
then looks around frantically for a few moments needing the one thing that
could make him feel better. Could take his mind off of the shitshow that is
his life. He opens his nightstand and tries to find the only item that will take
the pain away. He just needs a physical manifestation of how he is feeling.
God hates you. He hates your kind. You’re not worth the dirt you walk on.
After a few moments of rummaging around, his large hand finally lands on
his pocket knife and pulls it out of his nightstand drawer, using shaking
fingers to open the blade. He lets it glint in the natural sunlight of the room,
briefly looking at his reflection in the shiny surface. His hair is disheveled
and his eyes are rimmed red. He quickly shuts them, not wanting to see
himself or the shame written all over his features. He doesn't even open
them nor second guesses his hasty decision as he brings the blade down to
his own alabaster skin, making a fist as he slices a clean and shallow
horizontal line onto his forearm. It burns, but it takes his mind away from
the pain he is feeling in his chest, which is exactly what he intended.
You're nothing but a filthy fag, an abomination.

He finally opens his eyes to watch the blood pool to the surface, a stark
contrast on the paleness of the broken skin around. He lets his tears mingle
with the red liquid, the salt making the area burn even more. They mix with
the thickness of the blood, thinning it out so it runs down his arm, towards
his elbow. As more memories from that night in middle school flash
through his mind, he cuts more lesions into his skin, marking the area
permanently. He barely feels it, though, but it is far better than the
alternative which is reliving the worst night of his life. After a few more
cuts, he looks down at what he has done, horrified that he let it come to this
again. He let someone get to him. He hates himself so fucking much. He
deserves this, deserves the pain he is causing himself. It is a punishment for
being so fucking stupid, so naive. He made a promise to himself that he
would never let anyone get to him again. Never let anyone bring him to
this, but here he is, cutting himself, again. He is so fucking pathetic.
Someone needs to teach you what’s right and wrong.
Suddenly feeling shameful of his actions, he throws the knife across the
room and curls up on his bed in the fetal position under the covers, trying to
make himself as small as possible. He covers his ears, trying to block out
the voices in his head. He can’t. All he can see are the memories, and
Louis’ small hand wrapped around Willow’s waist, fingers stroking her
fucking hip. The very same fingers that were tracing his palm just the other
day. Fat tears are streaming down his face onto his pillow as his breaths
start to come out in short and sharp. He presses onto the marks on his arms,
trying to distract himself, but the action doesn’t work. He can feel himself
sinking deeper and deeper, but he doesn't know if he wants to pull himself
out of it. He doesn’t know if he can. His chest hurts, and he can’t breathe.
His whole body begins shaking with his sobs, and his vision is starting to
get blurry around the edges from lack of air. He is pretty sure he is dying,
even though he has been through this before. This has to be what death feels
like. If it is, then he welcomes it. He closes his eyes as more words are said
viciously in his mind, being repeated over and over again like some kind of
sick prayer. This time the voice has morphed into a familiar rasp, sounding
like silk feels.
You're a freak , a nobody. No one would miss you, you know? I don’t know
why you don’t just do the world a favor and kill yourself, you sick fuck.
Chapter End Notes
*Dodges random questionable fruit*
Dyer's Eve
Chapter Summary
Louis goes to church with Harry's words in his head and gets angry
learning some new southern phrases while Harry questions Willow.
Louis feels as if he is back to square one with Harry.
Chapter Notes
Special thanks to my amazing Beta and best frien Zoe as well as my
other friend who has been reading this for me Taylor please click their
Dana for being my guinea pig and reading this as well, and my
girlfriend who inspired quiet a bit of Harry's innermono for Willow.
Dear Mother, Dear Father
What is this hell you put me through?
Believer, Deceiver
Day in, day out, lived my life through you
Pushed onto me what’s wrong or right
Hidden from this thing that they call life- Metallica

“Louis! If you don't get down here right this second, we will be late for the
Church Homecoming!” His mom yells up the stairs. Louis sighs, rolling his
eyes. He pulls his phone out for the 577th time that day checking to see if
Niall has texted him back. He is disappointed to see he has no new
notifications. Louis didn’t miss the pain that passed across Harry’s features
when he saw him holding Willow during lunch on Friday. Harry
disappeared after that. He wasn’t in class for the rest of the day, and nobody
knew where he had gone. Niall had even seemed lost saying that he had just
seen him at lunch, and he seemed fine. Louis couldn’t seem to shake the
feeling that he had something to do with Harry’s disappearance. He felt sick
just thinking about it, desperately wanting to explain everything to Harry.
He had texted Niall a few times, but Niall hadn’t really texted him back.
The only thing he had said the first time was that he would check on him,
but that was it. Louis is beginning to fear the worst about the whole
situation. He really should have talked to him about it first, but he didn’t
think he would react badly. Harry always seemed like he didn’t care about
anyone or anything, so why would he care about this? Louis sighs, rubbing
his face. This whole thing is fucked up, and he definitely doesn’t want to sit
through church service and the church's Homecoming celebration.
“Coming!” Louis finally replies, glancing in the mirror. He looks weary and
tired, older than his mere eighteen years. He told his mom and Mark about
Willow. They are both very pleased with the news and told him to invite her
to dinner during the upcoming week. Louis didn’t really want to think about
it, but he was glad Willow at least knew everything. At least he didn’t have
to do more than touch her waist and occasionally her hand. He walks down
the stairs, already dreading the coming hours. He is thankful that Liam will
be there to keep him company. He smiles at his sisters, in their Sunday best,
when he gets to the bottom. This church service was a bit different than
usual. It was being held later in the afternoon because they were eating
afterwards to celebrate the opening of the church 26 years ago. Southern
people are so strange.
“Ready to go? Got your Bible?” Mark asks, coming to stand in front of him.
Louis nods in response, not in the mood to really talk. They all make a
single file line as they head to his parent’s van, piling in, Louis and Lottie
strapping Daisy and Phoebe into their booster seats. The car is loud, like
everything else in Louis’ life. It is exhausting constantly being surrounded
by people. He rests his head against the window, trying to tune out the noise
as he silently wishes he could be alone in his room. It suddenly dawns on
him that he has never once in his entire life been truly alone. His parents
had never ever left him alone in the house; he was always with them or
surrounded by his family. In that moment, Louis wants nothing more than
silence.
They arrive at the church quickly. There are an absurd amount of churches
in the area for how small the town actually is. There is a church across the
street from another church which is beside another church. What is the
point in that? He knows they are different denominations, but don’t they all
believe in and worship the same God? Why did there have to be so many
denominations in the same religion? If they are all correct in the same God,
then why all of the differences? He wants to ask Harry his questions, but he
doesn't even know if Harry is currently speaking to him. He doesn’t even
have Harry’s phone number, so he can’t text him. It is all very annoying and
frustrating.
Louis gets out of the van, the rest of his siblings following behind him in
their dresses, careful not to show anything inappropriate. The fact that his
sisters have to wear dresses, and he gets to wear actual pants is kind of
bullshit to him. Why are women treated so differently in church? He shakes
the thought away, eyes going to the sign situated outside of the red brick
building. They change the phrase depicted every week, this time it reads
‘Some books are written for our information. The Bible was written for our
transformation.’ What the fuck does that even mean? They need to fire
whichever old lady it is that scours the internet to find these things because
that one is terrible.
Louis walks through the doors of the small church, shaking hands with
everyone he sees, smiling politely. He smiles and waves at Liam when their
eyes meet. Liam waves back, then says something to his mom who is sitting
beside him. Louis takes his normal seat in the fifth pew back, sitting on the
end beside Phoebe. He and Lottie sandwich the two younger girls between
them, helping to keep them quiet during the service. He doesn't blame them.
Five year olds must be bored out of their skull during something that they
don’t understand. His mom didn’t start going to church until after she met
Mark, then he was forced to go along. He was around six at that point. He
just remembers constantly being told to sit still and listen to the preacher. It
was hard for him. He was always an active child who struggled staying in
one place. It is still hard for him now, and he is an adult.
Louis sits quietly as the preacher opens the service with a prayer, bowing
his head at the appropriate moment and kind of praying along. He usually
enjoys church, listening to the songs, singing along. He enjoyed hearing
what the preacher had to say, learning from him, but today he would rather
be anywhere but here. Harry’s words and his own research float through his
brain as members get up to sing off key religious songs like I’ll Fly Away
and Victory in Jesus with no music. He sings along, mostly because he
knows the songs by heart. Next, individual people get up to sing a song of
their choosing, some good singers, others in desperate need of a lesson from
Mr. Tennant. After this, one of the preachers in attendance rises from his
seat and asks if there are any prayer requests, and so the seemingly
unending segment of ‘please pray for my son, he hasn’t found god yet, blah
blah blah’ has begun. Great, another fucking prayer. He bows his head
again, trying to count how many there are in a single church service. He
still isn’t sure when the last Amen is said, and he is allowed to look up
again.
Finally, the first preacher comes up to alter, starting off with a story about
his grand child seeing a gay couple on television. Fucking great. Louis
knows exactly where this is going. Before he knows it, the preacher is
practically screaming at them. His face resembles the american flag, white
skin, blue lips from lack of oxygen, and red blotches all over. Fitting now
that Louis thinks about it. His old worn Bible is held in the air above his
head as he paces the stage, taking in huge gulps of air every few words or
so. Louis can barely understand what he is saying and wonders if anyone
else does as they nod their heads. Occasionally someone would hold up
their hand, shouting ‘amen’ in agreeance. He can pick out yelled words here
and there like ‘hellfire’, ‘abomination’, ‘damnation’, and ‘Lord’, but
nothing of substance. It is like he is watching the church service with new
eyes. It all seems so strange now that he really considers it.
“So if you know,” the out of shape man starts, winding down and breathing
heavily with the exertion of screaming. His face is now the color of a
tomato, spit on his chin and lips, and breaths coming out in short puffs. It is
gross and makes Louis want to hurl. Louis briefly wonders if the man is
going to go into cardiac arrest then surprises himself when he realizes he
may not want to actually call an ambulance for him.
“So if you know someone who is suffering from the disease of

homosexuality, bring them in and let the Lord’s saving grace heal them.
May he lay his healing hands on their skin and repair their mind to His
ways. Through him, they will see light and salvation. So pray for them.
Pray that they see the flaw in their filthy ways and seek out the Lord for
deliverance.” Louis barely suppresses an eye roll when he hears several
people say Amen, Mark raising his hand to the ceiling when the word
leaves his lips.
“That’s all the preaching that we will have today, seein’ as we still need to
celebrate Homecoming. Please come up and sing while we pass around the
collection plate, any money given is a donation to God and His word.”
Louis watches as members of the congregation walk up to the stage and
begin singing even more old church hymns, a gold collection plate being
passed around and filled with money, while the preacher stands in front of
the altar, yelling, yet again, about being saved and giving your heart to the
Lord. Mark drops a fifty dollar bill in when it gets into his hands. Louis
thinks of all the better ways Mark could spend that fifty dollars, all of the
meals he could buy for starving children. Instead it is going into the pocket
of some preacher to keep the lights on in one of the many churches located
in the area. Louis sighs in relief when he bows his head for the last prayer,
thanking the heavens that it is almost over. Yes, he realizes how ironic that
is, but it is what it is.
“Hey, how are ya?” Liam asks, when everyone gets up from their seats and
begins filling out of the church to walk to the building adjacent to where the
food is being served.
“I’m okay, I suppose,” Louis answers, not wanting to tell him that he now
has a migraine from the stupid shit the preacher was spouting. He is pretty
sure that wouldn’t go over too well with Liam and all of the nosey people
crowded around them. He thinks that a plastic surgeon would make a killing
in this town seeing as everyone has big noses that they place firmly in
everyone else’s business. Then again, he would probably starve to death
from lack of work since none of them seem to want to change. They can
easily see what they deem the error in the general population’s ways, but
could never see how they are at fault. It is ridiculous really. He follows
behind Liam as they make their way into the adjacent building, the smell of
home cooked food hitting Louis’ nostrils making his stomach growl.
“Emanuel will be here to bless the food in just a moment,” a woman tells
them when Louis reaches for a plate. Oh yes, he forgot. He can’t fucking eat
without God’s blessing. Please forgive him. Finally the preacher from
earlier, Emanuel, arrives and says grace, Louis bowing his head simply
because he didn’t want Mark to notice if he didn’t. He and Liam talk about
football as they make their way through the line, piling their plates high
with food. If nothing else, at least these people can cook. They find a seat at
a table by themselves, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. A group of five
old women sit at the long table with them, discussing the most recent
sermon. Louis knows them all. One of them is Emanuel's wife and others
are married to various men in power at the church. Louis tunes them out
while he eats, answering Liam’s questions on the made up story about how
he met Willow. Well it’s not really made up, but he skimmed over the
details of their deal.
“You know who I think needs Jesus? That Harry Styles boy,” one of the old
ladies says, moving her fork around in the air with the statement. Louis’
ears prick up when he hears Harry’s name on the lady’s lips. He glances
over at Liam who also seems to be listening intently to their conversation.
“Oh. That boy who wears them there tight pants and black clothes? He’s
kind of funny, ain’t he? Not right, I tell ya,” Ruth replies, beady eyes
watching as all the women nod in agreement. What the fuck does that even
mean? He’s kind of funny? As in he has a good sense of humor? Louis
doesn’t think that’s the case. He thinks it some weird southern phrase that
he will need to add to his fucking list. He has never heard that term before
though. He is beginning to think his definition of funny is very different
than theirs because there is a malice in her voice when she says it, her tone
dripping with disdain. Almost as though she believes she is too good to say
the actual word she wants to use. As if the word itself will taint her blessed
soul.
“I think that boy’s queerer than a football bat, mark my words on that ‘un.
He’s got the devil in him,” Anna-Lou agrees, nodding her head while she
puts a fork full of green beans in her mouth, chewing slowly. She probably
doesn't want her dentures to fall out. So that's what the phrase ‘kind of
funny’ means. It means she thinks Harry is gay. Queerer than a football bat?
Who comes up with this shit? Louis can feel the anger rising in his chest,
gripping his throat like a vice. How dare these women talk about Harry
when he can’t even defend himself. So what if he wears tight pants and
black clothes? That doesn’t make him bad in any way. Or necessarily gay
for that matter.
“I’d have a hissy fit if he were my son. I would make him straighten up.
Doesn’t make a lick of sense why his mamma would let him act that way,”
Polly adds, the other women making sounds of approval. Is a ‘hissy fit’ the
equivalent to a tantrum? Louis wants to scream at every single one of these
despicable excuses for good christian women. He bites his tongue to hold
the words in, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth. He chances a
glance at Liam who looks just as angry, a fire behind his dark eyes.
“I agree. He is gayer than a two dollar bill. He is going straight to hell in a

handbasket if he don’t change his wicked ways though.” Edna’s decrepit
and blotched hands are shaking as she scoops up some chicken and
dumplings with her fork, bringing the food to her wrinkled lips. She shakes
her head, and Louis wonders if her fake hair piece is going to go flying off
and land in her food. Why on earth would anyone go to hell in a
handbasket? What the fuck does that even mean? He can feel his cheeks
heating up with his anger. He just wants to yell at them to mind their own
fucking business, but he can’t. Mark would ground him for a month if he
even so much as as utters a single word to defend someone like Harry.
Someone like himself.
“It’s ‘cause he’s from a broken home. He don't have a father to beat him
like a red headed step child for acting that way,” Donna says around a
mouth full of food, spitting the contents all over her plate and the table in
front of her. Louis barely suppresses a grimace. Beat him for being himself?
What the fuck does a ginger child who was adopted have to do with this?
He is a step-child himself. Does that mean he needs to be beaten? Or is it
because his hair isn’t red that his body can stay in tact? Was it really
necessary to bring Harry’s family into this? Why do these people have to be
so hypocritical? He is sure their hands aren’t clean. They aren’t perfect and
sin free. The more Louis thinks about it, the angrier he gets.
“All we can do is pray for his wicked soul. Pray that the Holy Father helps
him see the error in his ways and brings him into the church. Bless his
heart,” Anna-Lou says, bowing her head and shaking it, as if it is the most
despicable thing she had ever heard. How dare they talk about Harry like
that. They don’t know him. They wouldn’t even get to know him. He just
dresses in dark clothes and wears tight jeans. Neither of those things make
him gay. Even if he was gay, why does it matter? There are way worse
things that a person could be. He could be a pedophile or he could torture
puppies in his free time. Gay isn’t bad. Is it?
“I think I need some air,” Louis mumbles to Liam, getting up from the
table, leaving his half eaten food behind. He goes outside, breathing in the
cool air, trying to calm his racing mind and tamp down some anger. He is
physically shaking from his rage, wanting to strangle some old women, as
terrible as that sounds. It just that… they had no right to talk about Harry
like that. They don’t even know him. Why does he have to go to hell for
being different? Is he doing anything wrong? Is Louis doing anything
wrong? Is there something inherently evil for loving a person of the same
sex? Louis used to think so, but now he isn’t so sure.
If there is one thing Harry has taught him, it’s that religion is flawed. Louis
closes his eyes with the questions racing through his mind. He can feel his
eyes stinging with unshed tears, frustrating him further. He feels helpless
and confused. He hits the brick wall of the church in anger and cries out
when pain shoots through his hand and up his arm. At least it’s a fucking
distraction from his thoughts, Harry, the church, fucking everything. He
blinks away tears from the pain and anger, willing himself not to cry. His
mom or Mark could come out looking for him any second, and he has no
idea what he would say to them. He certainly can’t tell them truth. ‘Sorry,
mom and Mark, I came out here because those old bitches were talking
badly about a guy that I am completely falling for. The whole thing is
incredibly frustrating because I can’t tell how he feels about me. Oh yeah,
by the way, I am going to hell for liking men, apparently in a handbasket,
what ever in the fuck that means.’ He could never ever say that. He doesn't
even know if he can admit half of it to himself yet.
“You alright, man?” Louis hears Liam’s voice behind him. Louis takes a
deep breath and puts his now bleeding and shaking hand down to his side.
Fuck, what has his life become? Before they came to this godforsaken
town, he thought he knew everything. He knew that God was real and
would love him after he apologized for his sins of being with men. He was
supposed to find a good christian wife to settle down with, have their 2.5
perfect children and live the fucking American dream. Now everything has
changed. His whole world feels like it is tilted on its axis, and he is so
fucking dizzy.
He should hate Harry. He should blame him for all of this, but he can’t
because Louis asked the fucking questions. Harry even warned him, and
made sure he truly wanted to know. He said he did, and what an over
confident idiot he was. He thought nothing Harry could say would change
his mind because he had faith. Faith in a church that hates him. Faith in a
God that would send him to hell for love. He had faith, and he thought that
with faith, nothing could shake him. He can’t blame Harry for telling him
the fucking truth. He tightens his good hand into a fist, frustrated with
everything. He thought he had faith in his heart, but now he isn’t so sure.
He isn’t sure of anything, and he wants to scream. He blinks a few times
before he turns to his friend, pasting on what he hopes to be a reassuring
smile.
“Yeah. I’m fine. I just needed some air I think,” Louis tells him. It’s not a
lie. He did need air, he just hopes it is convincing enough. He can tell by the
look on Liam’s face that he failed. It is not. Fuck.
“Look, man.” Liam’s dark eyebrows draw together in worry, eyes looking
at him tenderly. Louis takes a deep breath, completely unsure of where this
conversation is going to go. “I heard what they were saying about Harry. I
know he’s your friend, kind of. I’m sorry they were being like that.”
“It’s fine. Not your fault. Plus, Harry is barely my friend. Sure we talk
occasionally, but that’s about it,” Louis lies because what else is he
supposed to do? He isn’t embarrassed of Harry, but he also doesn't know if
he trusts Liam enough to not tell his parents. He is terrified of his parents.
Mark more specifically.
“Lou, I know you talk more than occasionally. You constantly pass notes in
class. You’re the only person he doesn’t openly ignore besides Niall,” Liam
says, a small knowing smile on his lips. Fuck. He didn’t know he was being
that obvious. If Liam noticed, then how many people at school did? How
long would it be before it got back to his family? That Louis was friends
with a guy some of the people in church think is what were the terms?
‘Kind of funny’, ‘Queerer than a football bat’ and his favorite ‘Gayer than a
two dollar bill,’ that was it. Maybe they won’t hear or believe the old
women. His parents are the type to prefer living in blissful ignorance than
cold hard truth. They would probably convince themselves that he was a
fine young man, despite the clothes. They may not have even heard the old
ladies talking. He may be panicking for nothing.
“I’m sorry. It just pissed me off. Like, they don’t even know him, Li, and
they were talking about him when he wasn’t even there to defend himself.”
Louis can feel the anger rising in his throat, gripping at his heart for a
second time. He tightens his hands into fists again, wincing at the pain of
his right hand.
“It made me angry, too. I get it. In fact, after you left I might have told them
that it wasn’t very Christainly to gossip about teenage boys. They were
appalled, but I don’t care.” Liam shrugs, and for the first time in his shitty
fucking day, Louis smiles. He is so happy he could kiss him if Liam were
his type that is, but it seems his only type is green eyes, curly hair, intellect,
and dark clothes. Go figure.
“Thank you, Li. Fuck, thank you,” Louis says, beaming at his friend now.
Liam’s features break into a smile of his own.
“You’re welcome. Maybe Harry won’t hate me if he finds out.” Liam

laughs. Louis doesn't think Harry hates Liam. He just doesn't trust him.
Louis is pretty sure that Harry currently hates him though which hurts him
more than he thinks he can admit.
“He probably likes you better than he likes me,” Louis mumbles looking
down.
“Look, I don’t know what happened on Friday, but I could tell you were
worried about him. I’m sure he doesn't hate you though. I meant what I
said. You’re the only person in school he doesn't glare at for so much as
looking in his direction besides, Niall. That’s gotta count for something,
right?” Liam reassures him, smiling when Louis finally looks up.
“I hope so,” Louis responds, not entirely convinced by Liam’s words, but at
least his friend tried.
“Come on. Let’s go in and get that hand of yours cleaned up then go back in
there and eat, so our parents don’t notice,” Liam says, looking down at
Louis’ now throbbing hand. He has blood dripping down his fingers, hitting
the gravel beside his feet. He didn’t mind the pain at the time, it was a good
distraction. Now it just hurts, but it is still serving as a distraction to his
inner turmoil. He just nods and follows Liam inside.
___________
Harry feels sick as he walks to work on Sunday. He knows he will be seeing

Willow since he is relieving her for the afternoon. She has evening church
service with her family, of-fucking-course. That’s probably why Louis likes
her. She is a perfect little church girl. Three things that he can’t be. Three
things that make him the total opposite of her. She’s a christian. They
probably met in the Bible Club. Probably a virgin and clings to the old
rugged cross with her purity ring perfectly intact on her finger. Probably the
type that doesn’t say the word shit, because it's dirty and the ‘s’ stands for
Satan or something equally ridiculous. She most likely cries in biology
when evolution is discussed and firmly believes both Darwin and Obama
are the Antichrist. Fuck. She probably makes a cake on Christmas because
she believes it to be Jesus’ birthday, which it isn’t.
He knows it isn’t logical to blame her. She isn’t a bad person. He has talked
to her a few times since starting at the shop, but they haven’t really worked
together yet. She seemed cool, which makes Harry somehow angrier. He
doesn't think she is overly popular, not the type to date a jock, but still she is
dating a jock. His jock. Fuck. No. Louis isn't his. He never was it seems.
Harry is a fucking moron for ever believing differently. Again. He did it
again. At least this time he didn’t get physically hurt. Well, no more than
what he inflicted on himself. He glances down, making sure the sleeves of
his shirt are covering the new marks. They are. Thankfully it is getting
cooler now, so he will be able to wear long sleeves more often. He pulls
himself from his dark thoughts as he swings open the door to the shop. It is
usually pretty slow on Sunday’s given that it’s ‘God’s Day’ and all, but Mac
doesn’t seem to care about that. Thank the gods.
“Hey, Harry. Good to see you.” Willow smiles at him, looking unsure by
her words. She must have noticed him on Friday. Fuck. That means Louis
must have noticed him, too. Great. That’s all he fucking needs. Thankfully
Louis didn’t have his cell number, and he threatened Niall by life and limb
if he so much as even considered giving it to him. Niall is a good friend.
Niall keeps texting him, but he keeps on ignoring it, ashamed that he went
back to his old habits. Niall is the only person in the world that knew about
it. Well his mom, kind of, but she didn’t know the extent. Niall even went as
far as coming over to his house yesterday, but he pretended not to be home.
Instead, he laid in his bed and ignored the constant knocking for twenty
minutes until Niall gave up. He knows it is cruel, but he can’t deal. He just
can’t. He doesn’t want to think about it, and he sure as shit doesn’t want to
see the disappointment cross Niall’s features. The pity. Harry hates pity.
“Is it true?” Harry blurts out, not knowing what else to say to his coworker.
It is the question that has been on his mind for the past few days. The only
one he can think of besides the words to belittle himself and old memories
he is trying to suppress. He spent the rest on Friday and all of Saturday
mostly in bed or writing in his journal, attempting to get his feelings on
paper. He barely got up to eat, but that is mostly because they didn’t have
any food in the house. His mom was home for a few hours on Saturday, and
asked him if he was okay. He lied. Of course, he lied. She didn’t need the
added burden of a fucked up son. She already had that once.
“Is what true?” Willow stutters out.
“You know what I’m talking about. Don’t play dumb with me. Is it true that
you’re dating Louis fucking Tomlinson?” He asks, his anger rising
threatening to suffocate him. He knows she isn’t dumb, and he doesn't
appreciate people avoiding his questions. He is the only person allowed to
avoid questions, thank you very much. His hands are clenched into fists as
she stutters again, looking down at them and looking back up at him, brown
eyes large with fear.
“Harry. I--I think that is s--something you need to ask Louis,” she responds,
quickly grabbing her jacket and running for the door. “Um-- I’ll see you at
school tomorrow. I’m sorry. Talk to Louis and let him explain. Bye.” Before
Harry can utter another sentence she is gone. What the fuck? He doesn't
need to talk to Louis. In fact, he would be perfectly content never seeing the
bastard’s face ever again. What does she mean by explain? What the fuck
would Louis have to explain? Harry feels sick just thinking about it, more
questions than answers floating around in his mind.
He sighs looking around the now empty shop. He is just so fucking tired.
He hasn’t slept in the last two days, insomnia kicking in at full force. He
doesn't even know how he is still standing and breathing. More importantly,
he doesn't know why he is. He doesn’t feel present, like he is living his life
from outside his own body, simply going through the motions. He doesn’t
really feel anything anymore, closing himself back off to the outside world,
to people like Louis. Mostly he feels like he is watching his life through a
movie, not really living it. It is welcome. This way he doesn't have to think,
just watch himself go through the motions of his own existence. A pathetic
existence at that.
At first he felt betrayed, stupid and a blinding anger that almost consumed
him. Now, he is simply numb. Numb to the pain and the hurt. Numb to the
reality that he was stupid enough to put himself in this position again. He
made a promise to himself that he would never let anything like this happen
to him again, and yet, he had fallen for the new kid. With his bright blue
eyes and his wide perfect smile and his endless fucking questions, that he
had been unable to ignore. It was he who bore the scars of that choice, of
the decision to put his faith and trust in Louis. Faith. There is that stupid
fucking word again. Faith is for people who actually want to believe in
something. Faith is for sheep, and Harry will not be a fucking sheep. Harry
should have never had faith in anyone or anything except truth, facts,
science and himself. Louis fucking Tomlinson did not fit into any of those
categories.
It is unfathomable that he actually began to allow himself to believe that

Louis really was different from all the others. That he saw the real him. The
Harry that he hid away from the world. The part of himself that so
desperately wanted to be set free but never could be. He let himself believe
that Louis genuinely saw that in him, saw past the brick walls he’d so
carefully erected all those years ago. He had put a crack in the foundation,
letting sunlight through for the first time in years, and now Harry’s heart
and mind were in tatters. Harry deserved this. He deserved what he got
because he was stupid. He deserves to pay for his misplaced faith and trust.
He should have known better. So yes, Harry deserves this. He deserves the
pain, the cuts, and the scars. The marks that will serve as punishment and a
reminder of his own stupidity. He thought he had enough of those, but it
seems he didn’t learn his lesson the first time.
Slipping on the mask again was easy. He should have never let his guard
down in the first place. Should never have let someone in. How could he be
foolish enough to let someone see him without his mask firmly in place,
even though it was mere moments in time. Louis still saw it though. He still
saw Harry smile and laugh. He still had knowledge of the intimate details of
Harry's existence. It still happened. He just hoped that Louis wouldn’t use it
against him now. It was stupid on his part. Pure fucking stupidity. He
doesn’t know if he has ever hated himself more. The first time was a
mistake of his own naivete. This time, though, he had no excuse. What was
the old saying? Oh yeah, fool him once shame on them, fool him twice,
shame on him. Fuck. He just wants to sleep, because it is the only time that
he is free from the thoughts swirling around his mind, but that won’t be
happening any time soon. His brain won’t shut off, so after his shift he will
probably go home and just stare at the wall for hours, trying not to think of
blue eyes, freckled cheeks, or a bright crinkly eyed smile.
____________
Harry skipped school on both Monday and Tuesday. It is now Wednesday,

and Louis is biting on his fingers anxiously, waiting to see if Harry walks
through the door. When he asked Niall where Harry had been, the other boy
just said he was sick and left it at that. Something about that excuse didn’t
sit right with Louis though. His stomach churned in knots at the idea of
Harry being upset because of him, with him. Fuck. This whole fucking
situation was a mess. He rubs his hands up and down his face, feeling the
bandage on his right hand scratch at his skin, trying to rub away the
remnants of this hellish week, starting with last Friday. It doesn’t work. No
matter how hard he tries, he can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong
with Harry. He feels sick thinking about it. Fuck.
His head snaps up when he hears the door open, eyes landing on Harry’s tall
frame. He is wearing a long sleeved, plain gray t-shirt, with a pair of skinny
jeans and black boots. His hair is a tangled mess on his head, as if he tossed
and turned in his sleep, black beanie perched on top of his curls, covering
most of them. His skin is pale, and his face looks gaunt like he hasn’t eaten
or slept in days. His eyes, though, his eyes send a painful pang through
Louis’ heart. They are hollow, almost as if he has pulled away from the
world itself. They are bloodshot, the green contrasting with the red, with
deep bags under them. His lips are still red, so fucking red, Louis just wants
to kiss them.
Louis tries to get Harry’s attention as he walks through the door, but Harry
ignores him completely, taking a seat beside Niall with his head down,
headphones firmly in place. Louis’ heart drops when he realizes he may be
back to square one with Harry. All of the time and effort he put into to
trying to break through Harry’s walls has gone to waste. Harry has sealed
up any cracks Louis managed to make with fucking concrete, closing
himself off once again. Harry obviously hates him, this time with good
reason. Louis wants to scream or cry or hit something or maybe all three.
Anything to relieve the tightness in his chest. Fuck. He doesn't even know if
he can get Harry to speak to him. The other boy isn’t even talking to Niall.
Louis forces away tears and tries to ignore the knot in his stomach as Mr.
Tennent starts speaking.
Louis spends the rest of the day being completely ignored by Harry, the
other boy even going as far as to change his seat in the all of their shared
classes, prefering to sit with the nerdy kids over Louis, Niall and Liam. By
the end of the day, Louis’ heart feels like it may stop beating at any minute,
and his stomach feels like it was left in the lunchroom on Friday when this
shit storm began. He never meant to hurt Harry, and he hates himself for
doing so. He had just gotten him to smile around him, too. He thought he
was making strides in their friendship, leading to possibly more, but Mark
had to go and fuck that up. Mark is destined to fuck Louis’ entire life up at
the rate he is going. Louis just finished with Football practice and sees
Willow, waving to her as he approaches.
“Any luck?” She asks, her brown eyes large and hopeful. She told him
about her conversation with Harry at the music store on Sunday. She
figured out that Harry was the one Louis had a crush on from there. Louis
was just shocked that Harry asked her about it. That should have been his
clue that Harry had been upset about the whole situation, but he ignorantly
believed that Harry would actually allow Louis to speak with him. Louis
wants desperately to clear this up, tell Harry the reason why he is dating
Willow, but he can’t. Harry won’t even so much as look at him, and telling
Harry means telling someone else that he is attracted to men. He doesn't
know if he can. As of now, the only person in his life that knows is Willow.
Can he really tell someone else the secret he has been hiding for so long?
He only suspects that Harry is just like him, but he doesn't know .
“No,” Louis sighs, blinking back tears for the 163rd time that day. How did
everything get so fucked up? It was going so well too.
“He’ll come around eventually, you just need to get him to talk to you,”
Willow reassures, placing a comforting hand on his bicep.
“Even if I did, what the fuck would I say?” Louis asks, closing his eyes and
wishing to go back in time. To talk to Harry before all of this happened.
Why the fuck was he so stupid?
“The truth?” Willow says it like it’s a question.
“What if-- what if he isn’t like me?” Louis finally asks the question that has
been plaguing him since this morning. This is the first chance he has gotten
to voice it, being alone outside with the one person in the world that knows
his secret.
“Do you really think he would be acting this way if he didn’t have some
sort of feelings for you? He couldn’t mask the hurt in his eyes when he
asked me about it Sunday,” Willow reasons, trying to get Louis to look her
in the eyes.
“No. I can’t think of another reason for him to be so upset with me. I
literally did nothing wrong. Maybe I did, and I didn’t even realize it. Maybe
I have missed the mark completely, and he isn’t mad at me for dating
someone,” he responds, searching Willow’s brown eyes for answers he
knows he would only find in green ones. He feels so confused about the
whole fucked up situation. He racks his brain for anything that could have
happened before Lunch on Friday. Anything at all, but he comes up short.
He literally can’t think of anything else that would be bothering Harry.
“I don’t think you’ve missed the mark, Lou. I really don’t,” Willow says
earnestly, like she really believes her words. Louis wishes he could, but he
just doesn't know.
“What if it has nothing to do with me, and he is just having family issues or
something? Like what if I am jumping to conclusions, and I am totally
wrong, then tell him about how I feel?” Louis knows he is rambling,
coming up with the most outrageous scenarios, but he can’t help it.
He doesn't know if he can actually tell Harry. He has no idea why he

decided to pursue the other boy in the first place. He never thought of the
day he actually had to tell someone. Maybe he believed that Harry would be
the first to come out with it, literally, but that was false hope. Getting Harry
to tell him his name was like pulling teeth, so why was Louis delusional
enough to believe Harry would have told him first?
“What if I was totally wrong all along, and he finds out and tells the whole
fucking school? What if he tells my parents?” He asks, eyes stinging with
tears, frustrated by everything.
“That’s just a chance you have to be willing to take. Is he worth the risk?”
Willow asks, and that is a good fucking question.
Is Harry Styles worth the risk? His brain is screaming ‘no’. His heart,
though, has been in physical pain all day from this, each thought of Harry
sending another stab. His fucking heart says ‘yes.’ Just picturing Harry
smiling again, makes it float like a bubble in the breeze, but the moment he
thinks of the opposite, the bubble bursts.
“Maybe I should just let him be upset and forget about him. I never thought
of what would actually come of this. That I would have to tell him, and I
don’t know if I can. I just don’t. Maybe this is the perfect opportunity to put
it all behind me with my secret perfectly intact.”
He just feels like such an idiot, like he should have actually thought about it
before he even considered flirting with Harry. What the hell had been
thinking? He wasn’t, and that was the problem. He feels so fucking stupid.
His head hurts with the endless questions, and his heart hurts from the
whole fucking situation. He just wants to go home and sleep, but he can’t.
“Are you really going to let your own fear make the decision for you?”
Willow asks, her tone stern, like this is something she is passionate about.
Louis almost throws Tara in her face. Willow certainly won’t tell Tara about
her feelings, but Louis would never do that. Willow and Tara were a
completely different situation, and it would be unfair to compare them.
Plus, Willow is just trying to help. She is the only person he can talk to and
be honest with, and he fears pissing her off because she knows enough to
bury him. Literally. Mark would probably kill him if he ever found out.
“I don’t know,” he says finally, biting his lip. He takes a deep breath in
through his nose, as if the fresh air outside will make his heart stop aching.
It doesn’t. Praying also doesn’t seem to help. Maybe it’s because he is

praying over a man, and God would never answer a prayer to sin. Maybe
this is all happening because God is trying to teach him a lesson. God wants
him to know that he shouldn’t be questioning his faith, and he shouldn’t be
lusting after a man. He knows it's wrong, so maybe this is his punishment.
Maybe he deserves this pain and heartache for being attracted to someone
of the same sex. This could be a sign from God telling him he should stop.
The idea makes him want to cry.
The very thought takes him back to church on Sunday when those
hypocritical old women were saying those awful things about Harry. He
was angry at the time for Harry, but also for himself. They may as well have
been talking about him, but he can’t help but wonder if this is God’s way of
telling him that he needs to not be with Harry. Harry acting this way and
ignoring him is a sign that he should have never been attracted to him in the
first place. The pain in his chest and gut serving as a harsh reminder that his
desire is an abomination against God, a direct violation of His holy word.
Everything in the universe kind of points to it right now, doesn’t it? The
church service about homosexuality, Louis questioning his faith, now Harry
being upset with him all adds up to God being angry. Him not wanting them
together, but Louis wants them together. Why aren’t they allowed to be
together like couples of the opposite sex? Why can’t they be the same?
“Just-- Just think about it,” she tells him, snapping Louis out of his
turbulent thoughts.
She looks him in the eye, gives him a small smile then pulls him in for a
hug. This is the most they have touched, but fuck he needs it. He feels so
lost, and even worse, he feels alone. He would normally talk to Harry when
he is questioning his faith, but Harry won’t speak to him. Again bringing
him back, full-fucking-circle, to his previous conclusion. God doesn’t want
them to be together.
“Thanks, Will,” Louis says, returning her hug, sinking into her warmth. He
pulls away slowly, leaving his hand on her arms. “Ready to go to my house
for dinner? Meet the parents?” He freezes after he says the last words, eyes
trained behind Willow.
Harry is already quickly walking away from them, down the street. He
doesn't have his headphones in, and Louis is almost sure Harry heard the
question. He feels panic gripping his throat. What if he heard the entire
fucking conversation? What if he now knows Louis’ secret? Oh God. Louis
feels sick. He barely ate lunch, and now it feels like it is going to come back
up any moment now. Fuck.
“What?” Willow asks, feeling Louis change in posture and demeanor. She
looks around, spotting Harry’s quickly retreating form. “Oh shit.”
“Oh shit, indeed,” Louis says debating about running after his... well he
isn’t sure what Harry is to him anymore. He isn’t sure if they were ever
really friends. He decides not to because Harry obviously doesn’t want to
speak to him, and his parents are already going to be angry at him for being
late since his conversation with Willow put them five minutes behind. With
a sigh, he starts walking towards his car, Willow following silently behind.
Louis takes the minutes in the car to prepare Willow for what was to come,
which also takes his mind off the Harry situation for the first time today.
Chapter End Notes
*Keeps dodging more random questionable objects*
Natural Born Sinner
Chapter Summary
Louis and Willow have a disastrous dinner at the Tomlinson

Household. Louis continues second guessing everything and decides
weather or not to confront Harry.
Chapter Notes
Did you really think by pushing me
I would become what you want me to be?
And did you really think by hurting me
I'd open up and just hand you the key?
I know you're scared and don't understand
This is my life, this is who I am
What I do know is come judgement day

Before the lord can you say the same?- In This Moment
“Mom, Mark! We’re here,” Louis yells, announcing their presence as soon
as they walk through the door. He offers Willow an encouraging smile
before he turns back towards the noise of someone entering the room.
“Louis. I told you not to call me that, especially in front of guests. You are
to call me Dad or Father,” Mark warns, and Louis barely suppresses an eye
roll. He hates calling Mark either of those titles because he simply doesn't
deserve it in Louis’ eyes.
He has been trying to change Louis since the very moment he married his
mother. He wants to mold Louis into his ideal son which is something Louis
doesn’t think he is capable of being. He will never be the perfect son in
Mark’s eyes, and honestly, he is getting tired of trying. It is difficult being a
constant disappointment to the only man who has ever resembled a father
figure to him. He is too short, his voice too high pitched, his actions too
feminine. Louis is honestly surprised he hasn’t ended up in Military School
to ‘toughen him up’, like Mark has threatened in the past. He has a
suspicion that his mom has something to do with him still being in public
school.
It has only been recently that Louis began referring to him by his actual
name in conversation, which has just served to piss Mark off even more.
Louis may or may not do it because of that though. Anything to help him
feel like he has control over his own life, even something as small as calling
Mark by his given name and not a title he doesn’t deserve. He would much
rather refer to Mark with a title like ‘asshole’, ‘shitprick’, or his personal
favorite, ‘fuckstick’ since those are titles Mark deserves. He would be
murdered if he so much as even muttered those words anywhere near Mark,
since they are curse words, and he isn’t allowed to swear. Mark does it
though, but he is a fucking hypocrite. He is a ‘do as I say and not as I do’
kind of ‘leader’, so Louis can’t imagine what would be done to him if he
used them as actual titles for Mark.
“I’m sorry,” Louis mumbles, looking down at the floor. He decides to toe
off his shoes, so it doesn't seem like he is avoiding Mark’s gaze, even
though that is definitely what he is doing.
“You must be Willow. Louis has told us so much about you,” Jay greets
then, coming to stand beside Mark, smiling at Willow warmly and shaking
her hand. Louis’ mom really is amazing and caring. He has no idea why she
chose to marry someone like Mark. Financial security. That has to be it.
“Yup. That’s me,” Willow responds smiling nervously then moving to shake
Mark’s hand. “Thank you for having me Mr. and Mrs. Tomlinson.”
“Please call me Jay,” she waves off.
“You may refer to me as Mr. Tomlinson,” Mark replies, standing so tensely,

the stick lodged firmly up his ass will never ever have the chance to come
out or see the light of day. That poor fucking stick. What a terrible
existence. Being in a dark place, gripped tightly, with no light for the rest of
its life. Louis kind of feels it’s pain though, since most days he feels he
leads a similar reality. Louis glances over at Willow, watching as she barely
conceals a grimace from Mark’s comment. Maybe Harry can teach her how
to better hide her facial expressions, if Harry ever talks to either one of
them again that is. Fuck, at this point, he will be lucky if Willow doesn’t
call this whole shitshow off within the hour.
“Well. Dinner is ready,” Jay says, somewhat breaking the tension that has
built in the room.
“Yes. Hopefully it is not cold, since Louis seems to have taken his time
getting you two here.” Just like that, the tension is back ten fold. Mark turns
towards the dining room, without another comment. Louis tries to offer
Willow a reassuring smile as they follow Mark and Jay into the dining
room.
“Lou! You’re here!” Phoebe exclaims from the table causing the rest of his
sisters to look at them.
“Yup, love. We just got here.” Louis smiles at his sisters. They always put
him in a better mood.
“Who’s that?” Daisy asks, pointing at Willow.
“It’s not nice to point, Daisy,” Mark reprimands, and Louis very much
wants to punch him. She is a child. It is normal to be curious, but heaven
forbid she actually ask a question. Literally, it seems as though heaven
actually forbids questions.
“This is Willow, my girlfriend,” Louis introduces, smiling at his sister,

deciding to ignore Mark’s comment completely.
“Oh. What about Harry?” Daisy asks, her blue eyes wide, expression
innocent. Louis freezes though. Fuck. Maybe his parents didn’t hear the
question. At least he hopes they didn’t.
“Who’s Harry, darling?” Jay questions, curiosity lacing her words.
“He’s just a friend from school. I saw him at the park the other day when I
took the girls to play,” Louis supplies, trying to stay as close to the truth as
possible.
“Harry’s pretty,” Phoebe adds, as if that is the most important fact about the
entire experience, and she can’t believe Louis would have left that out.
“Phoebe, honey, boys aren’t pretty. They are handsome. Only girls can be
pretty, so please never use that word to describe a boy again,” Mark
chastises, and Louis wants to punch something again, because boys can
most definitely be pretty. Harry, for example, is very pretty, beautiful even.
Handsome doesn't sum up how Harry looks, and it would be a travesty of
justice for someone to use that word as a descriptor for him.
“Lou, you’ve never mentioned a Harry. You should bring him around some
time for dinner. Where do his parents go to church?” Jay asks, smiling at
him. Fuck. What is he supposed to say? ‘No, Mom. I don’t think Harry’s
parents go to church. Harry’s an atheist who doesn't believe in God.’
“Um-- we haven't really talked about that,” Louis responds, face heating
with the lie while thinking of other things they have discussed. Fuck, he
needs to get a grip.
“Then what do you talk about?” Mark asks, as if the very idea of talking
about anything other than church and God is absurd. To be fair, he and
Harry have spoken, and on more than one occasion, discussed both of those
topics, but not in a way he could ever tell either of his parents.
“Mostly about classes. He’s really smart. He occasionally helps me with my

physics homework during our free period,” Louis lies again, this one
coming much easier. Harry is really smart, so it isn’t that unbelievable.
“Oh well, maybe he could tutor you or something. I know you have been
struggling in that class, perhaps a study partner will do you some good,” Jay
tells him. Fuck, now the only thing Louis can imagine is he and Harry alone
in his room, ‘studying’ on his bed. Harry’s long limbs would make his bed
look small, his pale skin a stark contrast to the dark blue of the comforter
and sheets. Louis licks his lips, telling his dick to calm down. He shouldn’t
be thinking those sinful thoughts, since his heart is currently being punished
for them in the first place.
“Yeah. Maybe. Anyways, Willow, these are my sisters, Lottie, Fizzy, Daisy,
and Phoebe,” Louis introduces quickly changing the subject, pointing to
each girl as he says their name. He knows that Willow is probably starting
to feel awkward with the conversation straying towards Harry, and he
doesn’t want that. She is doing him a huge favor, afterall.
“Well, sit down everyone,” Jay says, motioning for them to take a seat.
Willow looks confused when they all begin holding hands as soon as they
sit down, preparing to say grace. Louis reaches for her hand, giving her a
small smile. Her hand feels weird in his, mostly because it’s not large and
adorned with rings. His mind flashes back to the day he wrote his initial on
Harry’s hand, remembering how warm and big it felt in his own. That felt
right, but this… this feels wrong on so many different levels. It’s not the
first time he has held hands with Willow, but it will never fail to make him
internally cringe. It is nothing against her at all. She is a beautiful girl and
Tara is very lucky to have her, he just hates it. Hates that he has to pretend.
Hates that he has to force himself to be someone and something that he’s
not.
“God. We thank you our Heavenly Father for providing us with this feast,”
Mark starts, as soon as Willow’s hand is in Louis’ and Louis bows his head,
praying along. “We also thank you for our health and happiness. Thank you
for bringing Willow into Louis’ life, so that she may sit down with us for
this meal you have provided. We thank you for everything you graciously
do for us every day, may we always follow in your footsteps on the path to
righteousness. In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.”
“Amen,” they all mumble dropping each other’s hands as Mark finishes. He
hates how much Mark is showing off for Willow’s benefit. He normally just
says the same prayer before every single meal, but of course he had to
include her in this particular blessing. The irony of his step-dad’s words
seep deep into his bones, making him shiver a bit. If Mark really knew what
brought Willow into his life, he would have an aneurysm. Perhaps Louis
should break the news after all.
“So, Willow, what church do your parents go to?” Mark asks as everyone
starts eating their meal. Of course he would ask her that, since it seems to
be the only thing he cares about.
“Oh-- umm-- United Baptist,” Willow answers, taking a bite of her green
beans.
“That’s the church we almost joined,” Jay says smiling at Willow’s answer,
seemingly happy with her choice.
“Yes. I recall. We decided against it, though, since one of the preachers is an
Obama sympathizer,” Mark tells her, like he is defending their decision not
to join her church.
“Oh-- um-- I didn’t know that.” Willow is obviously uncomfortable with

the conversation, but Mark doesn’t seem to give a fuck, plowing on as if
Willow hadn’t spoken.
“Tell your parents. They need to know, so they can switch churches. I don’t
understand why anyone would actually support Obama,” Mark continues,
and fuck here we go again. Louis buckles his imaginary seat belt, and bites
his tongue ready for the inevitable. He knew this would happen, but that
doesn't make it any less embarrassing.
Mark’s face is already beginning to redden with his anger as he continues,

“He is the antichrist, I tell you. He wanted to take our guns and disband the
Military! Give all of our jobs to those aliens south of the border. Did you
know he refused to swear in on the Bible? Yeah, he wanted to swear in on
the Quran because he’s a Muslim. Having a non-Christian as President is
just un-American. He and Hillary Clinton, I swear, would take this country
straight to Hell. Thank God she didn't win the last election. I just don’t
understand what people were thinking. Why would anyone think a woman
capable of being the President of the United States? Women are far too
emotional and hormonal for that kind of job, and she is no different. Women
would much rather talk about their feelings than fight for freedom. A
woman doing a man’s job is just plain stupidity. It’s what’s wrong with
America really; what is wrong with our families. President Trump is a gift
sent from God. I am so thankful every single day that a man of faith won
the election. I know we all prayed about it.” Mark is now red faced and
breathing heavily as his rant comes to an end, looking similar to the
preacher during the church services on Sunday.
“Now, Mark, remember your blood pressure,” Jay reminds him, patting his
arm. Louis almost wishes he wouldn’t remember his blood pressure. Saying
that stuff about women, right in front of his four sisters, his mom and
Willow, makes Louis’ blood boil. They should be built up, not torn down
because of their gender. His mind drifts back to the fact that his sisters have
to wear dresses to church while he is allowed to wear pants. It’s the same
concept, isn’t it? According to people like Mark, women are beneath them,
and so they should be treated as such. It pretty much even says that in the
Bible. He glances at his sisters, noting the look of hurt on their face from
their own father’s words. He bites his tongue harder, tasting blood. He hates
him. He really fucking does.
“Yes, of course, Jay. I just get so worked up over the stupidity of those
liberal snowflakes.” Mark spits the last words, saliva coating his bottom lip.
Louis almost gags. It’s not the first time Louis has heard that term, but it
still irritates him to no end.
“I know, dear,” Jay responds patting his arm again, attempting to calm her
husband down.
“I tell you what liberals need. They need Jesus and a good beating.” Mark
points his finger towards the ceiling with his words, then slams one large
palm down on the table. The loud bang and the sound of the dinnerware
clanging as a result makes the rest of them jump. Louis doesn't understand
what it is with people and wanting to beat everyone who believes and thinks
differently than them. Is violence really the answer? If Harry started to beat
Mark because he is a Christian, then Mark would surely cry religious
intolerance, making sure everyone heard about the heinous crimes against
the nation’s Christians.
“So, Willow, tell us, what do you plan to do after graduation,” Jay asks,
clearly trying to steer the topic away from politics. Louis could kiss her.
Willow looks relieved, her body visibly relaxing as she answers the
question.
“I plan on going to college, even though my parents aren’t keen on the

idea,” Willow responds, really smiling for the first time this whole fucking
shit show of an evening. Willow is smart, just like Harry.
“Oh what are you planning to study?” Jay asks, clearly interested. Mark
huffs beside her, but doesn’t say anything, just continues to stuff his face
which is now becoming a more normal shade. Willow holds up one finger
as she chews, politely signifying that she is going to answer once she
finishes.
“I would like to major in Civil Engineering,” She responds, and Louis

smiles proudly.
“Oh, that’s a lot of math. Are you sure about that?” Mark asks, clearly
judging her for her choice in future career. He can almost hear him saying
‘girls can’t do math, silly.’
“Oh, I love math. I am currently taking college algebra even though I am in

eleventh grade. I plan to finish calculus before I start my freshman year of
college,” she tells them, taking a bite of food. He wonders why Harry didn’t
take any college classes like other students seemed to have done. Some are
even taking English 101 now, planning to start English 102 when the
semester ends. He makes a mental note to ask Harry, that is, if he ever talks
to him again. Mark grunts at her answer, clearly displeased, which is utter
bullshit.
“Are those college level courses? Did your parents have to pay for them?”
Jay asks, actually interested in what Willow is saying. Louis loves his mom.
“Yes. They are college level, but I paid for them out of my own pocket. I
have a job. My parents um--” she pauses, clearly unsure if she wants to
finish her thought. Louis knows what she is going to say, so he wonders the
exact same thing before she decides to continue. “My parents don’t want
me to go to college. They say it will be a waste of my time, and that I
should concentrate on finding a husband and starting a family.” Her voice is
sad with the admission. Not as sad as the first time she had told Louis the
very same thing. They’d had this conversation a few days ago, but she
sounds sad all the same. She pretends it doesn’t affect her. That she doesn’t
need her parent’s permission or support, but Louis can tell that it really does
bother her. Shouldn’t they be fucking proud that their daughter is so
intelligent and wants to further her education? What kind of backwards way
of thinking do these people have?
“I can see where they are coming from. You’re their daughter. They just
want what’s best for you,” Mark responds, and what the fuck? It’s not
necessarily what Mark said that leaves a bad taste in Louis’ mouth, it’s what
he left unsaid. It is the words between the lines of his sentences. What he
meant by his statement. They just want what’s best for her? Is he fucking
serious? As if what is best for her isn’t to get a good education. As if what
is best for her is to get married and settle down and pop out half a dozen
kids. As if she shouldn’t want to get an education, and her parents are
actually correct in their goals for her. What kind of bullshittery is that?
Mark has been telling him to go to college and get an education since the
day he waltzed into their lives, so why is he singing a different tune with
Willow? In fact, now that Louis really thinks about it, Mark has never once
talked to any of his sisters about college. He never even talks to them about
school or rewards them for good grades like he does Louis. In fact, he just
encourages them to take courses like Home Economics or Family Studies.
Holy shit. What a fucking double standard. How has Louis been so blind to
it before? He just, fuck, he just thought it was normal, and he thought that
the girls didn’t really want to go to college or get an education. Now,
though, now it makes Louis sick because they are taught to not want one,
by people like Mark. They are taught that their main goals in life are to get
married and start a family, to do as their husband says without a thought in
their brains. Louis’ head is spinning with the realization. He feels like he is
going to be sick. Holy shit. Not for the first time this week, he just wants to
talk to Harry. Harry has a way of putting things that helps Louis to
understand.
“Yeah,” Willow agrees, voice small and unsure. She sounds beaten and
upset, so Louis reaches a tentative hand over to her, rubbing it down her
back in what he hopes to be a soothing gesture. That’s something
boyfriends do for their girlfriends’ right? He hates Mark so fucking much
right now, his blood feels like it is boiling. Poor Willow. She just added
another person to her seemingly never ending list of people who don’t
believe in her. Who don’t believe she could actually succeed in college.
Louis decides right then and there that he will be the support that she needs.
He will encourage her to pursue her dreams, and he will help her along the
way. She doesn’t need family. She can make one of her own. An awkward
silence fills the room after that, everyone just eating their food.
“Mom, Dad, I have a question I have been meaning to ask you,” Louis
starts a few minutes later, finally breaking the tension. He puts down his
fork to look at his parents. It almost pains him to call Mark ‘Dad’, but he
did it because he is getting ready to ask a favor, and doesn’t want to be on
his shit list even more.
“Of course, honey,” Jay responds, smiling encouragingly.

“Saturday is the Homecoming dance, and I know you all don’t usually let us
go to dances. I thought, that maybe, I could go this year with Willow, since
it’s my senior year. I’m eighteen now, so I think I am responsible enough. I
will also be home no later than midnight. Willow just really wants to go,
and now that you’ve met her, I thought maybe you would agree,” Louis
rambles, wanting to get everything out there before they can start arguing
the point.
“I don’t know honey, we have never let you before. What do you think,
Mark?” Jays asks, looking to her husband for an answer. Louis hates that so
much. Why can’t she just give him permission. She is his mom after all, the
only one of the two to have any biological relation to him at all, yet Mark is
the one that holds Louis’ future in his fat hands. Mark looks like he is
considering the question, fork hanging between his thumb and index finger
as he choose with his mouth open. Louis bites his lip and prays for an
answer in the affirmative, just wanting one night to spend with his friends.
He has already planned to sneak out and possibly attend an after party, but
they don’t need to know that.
“Okay, but you will be home by 11 and not a moment later. Am I

understood?” Mark says, pointing his finger at Louis and nodding. Louis is
shocked. This is the first time Mark has ever agreed to let Louis do
something that isn’t directly related to academics, football, or baseball. His
mouth is actually drooping open with the allowance, but he quickly
recovers.
“Thank you. I will be home by 11, not a minute later,” he stutters out,
nodding. The rest of dinner goes more or less smoothly, his parents asking
Willow questions, her answers always short and safe. He thinks they like
her, even though she isn’t a cheerleader or whatever. Jay keeps smiling at
him as if to say ‘she’s a good one,’ while Mark keeps glancing down her
shirt even though it isn’t low cut. What a disgusting prick.
“Lottie, Fizzy, will you help me clean up?” Jay asks, standing from the
table once everyone has finished eating.
“I can, Mom,” Louis offers, beginning to stand up from his seat between
Willow and Phoebe.
“Louis, sit down. That’s women’s work, so let your mother and sisters
handle it,” Mark demands, and Louis sits down, looking at his mom
apologetically. She just smiles at him, silently thanking him for the offer.
Lottie and Fizzy rise from their seats, grabbing the remainder of the dishes
from the table before they disappear into the kitchen behind their mother.
“I think I am going to go ahead and take Willow home, it is getting late,”

Louis says a few minutes later when his mom and sisters reappear, the
younger girls going to the living room to find something to watch on
television. Willow takes that as her cue to stand, Louis following behind
her.
“Okay, drive safe. It was lovely meeting you, Willow,” Jay says, pulling
Willow into a warm hug, the younger girl returning it easily. They make
their way into the the living room, Louis freezing as soon as he sees what
his sisters accidentally left the Netflix cursor on. Please no. Fuck. Please no.
“Get that shit off of my TV!” Mark yells, making Lottie jump and turn her
attention back to the television. Her eyes widen when she realizes what she
has accidentally landed on in her search. “No house of mine will have
fucking trash like that on TV! Wanting us to sympathize with fags and
actually be tolerant of their choice in lifestyle. No. In fact, I may just cancel
the Netflix subscription since they are nothing but millennial pieces of shit
pushing their liberal agenda on our youth.” Mark motions wildly towards
the television face resembling a tomato, the picture of Queer Eye long gone,
now replaced with Lilo and Stitch . Louis feels sick at his step-dad’s words.
His eyes sting with tears, but he blinks them back, knowing that crying will
just make it worse. First they will wonder why he is crying, then he will be
called a pansy by Mark for showing emotion.
“Honey, they were just scrolling past it,” Jay reasons, rubbing Mark’s bicep
like the good little housewife Mark wants her to be.
“I don’t care, Johannah. That filth will not be on my TV. Their parents
should have raised those men better.” Mark uses four meaty fingers to put
air quotes around the word ‘men’, making Louis ball his fist up behind his
back with anger. Mark acting like they aren’t men because they are gay
makes bile rise in Louis’ throat, burning it. He also doesn’t miss the
comment about their lifestyle choice, as if being gay is a choice. Louis used
to think so, but now he isn’t so sure. He isn’t sure about anything anymore.
“I blame their parents. Their parents should have raised them better, raised
them in church, sent them away when they started behaving in such a
ungodly way, to fix them.”
“Well, I’m gonna get Willow home,” Louis interrupts, taking a shaky breath
while he and Willow slip their shoes on.
“It was nice to meet, y’all. Dinner was great,” Willow compliments then
waves as Louis pushes her out the door.
“Yes! Take care,” Jay waves, smiling again as they walk out the door,
shutting it firmly behind them. When they get outside, Louis closes his eyes
taking in a few gulps of the cool autumn air. He is physically shaking,
feeling as though he may throw up his dinner at any moment. A single tear
falls down his cheek, but he quickly wipes it away hoping Willow didn’t
see it. He bites the inside of his cheek, willing no more to fall.
“Are you okay?” She asks, voice low and hesitant. Louis cracks his eyes
open to look at her. She looks concerned, and also slightly shaken by
Mark’s words. He understands the sentiment completely.
“I’m fine. I’m sorry Mark was such an asshole to you about the college
thing. Know that you always have someone supportive in me,” Louis tells
her, glad to have finally gotten to say it. He told her before, when they
talked about it, but he wants to reiterate it after what Mark has just said.
“It’s fine. I’m used to it, but seriously. Are you okay? That was… intense,”
Willow asks again, her red eyebrows drawn in worry. Her brown eyes are
wide with her concern, soft even.
“Yeah. I’m used to it too. Let’s just go,” he responds, using a foot to push
himself off the doorstep, quickly walking down the stoop.
“Lou,” Willow starts, but Louis quickly cuts her off.

“Look, Will, I appreciate the concern, but I don’t want to talk about it,” he
says, not missing a step. He closes his eyes for a moment when he hears her
sigh, then follow behind him. He can’t. He can’t talk about it, or he will cry.
He can’t cry. Not in front of Willow, and not where his parents may be able
to see him. Mark’s words are still racing through his mind at light speed,
not giving his brain a moment to fucking rest. To think. For the third time
tonight, Louis thinks he hates him, but then feels guilty for the thought. One
of the ten commandments is about honoring thy father and mother. Even
though Mark isn’t technically his father, he is the closest thing Louis has
ever had and probably will ever get. He shouldn't hate him. He should
probably hate himself instead, for his choices that have led him to this.
If homosexuality is a choice, then why can’t he choose not to be attracted to

men or Harry for that matter? He doesn't want to be. He doesn't want to
disappoint his family or for God to hate him. It’s the last thing he wants, yet
it doesn’t stop his body. It doesn't stop his heart . Why is it so fucking
terrible to love someone? He feels like his world that was turned on its axis
by Harry is now on a scale, measuring every single detail against the others
until there is something quantifiable. Something valid. The whole thing is
making his head hurt. He just wants to talk to Harry. He knows he
shouldn’t. He knows he should just move on from his bad choices, and
pretend Harry doesn’t exist. He just can’t. His heart can’t.
___________
“I’m not fucking going, Niall. Drop it,” Harry practically growls as they
walk down the empty back stairway after school.
“Come on, it’s Homecoming!” Niall begs, grabbing Harry’s arm to stop him
when they get to the bottom. Everyone else in school is currently occupying
the gym for the Godsforsaken pep rally, and Harry just doesn't feel peppy at
the current moment. Or ever really. Sports are pointless and having school
spirit for a place you will be leaving in four years is just fucking dumb.
“No. Louis is going to be there which means I am not going to be there,”
Harry shoots, glaring down at his friend.
“You can’t avoid him forever, Haz.” Harry flinches at the nickname, one
given to him by Louis. Niall’s tone is soft, making Harry that much more
angry. He hates pity. “You have all of your classes with him, you need to
talk to him.”
“No. That’s the fucking problem, Niall, I shouldn’t have talked to him in the
first fucking place. Talking to him is what got me into this disaster of a
situation, so I don’t think it is going to help matters. In fact, I should go the
rest of the school year without talking to him. Let him spend the rest of his
miserable life with his Jesus freak of a girlfriend, their 2.5 kids and their
stupid fucking white picket fence with their three crosses proudly standing
in the yard. I don’t care about him.” Harry is breathing heavily from his
rant, hoping that saying it outloud will help him to convince himself. Niall’s
blue eyes are wide with surprise, dark brows shooting into his hairline.
“You’re fucking lying through your teeth,” Niall pokes him roughly in the
chest, punctuating the accusation. “If you didn’t care about him, then you
wouldn’t be madder than a wet hen. You have been fucking moping for a
week over him having a girlfriend. Lie to yourself all you want to, Haz, but
don’t lie to me. I’m your friend, and I just wanna help you. Get off your
high horse, and talk to him because I think he feels the same way.” Niall
pats him on the chest then walks out the door, leaving Harry breathing
heavily and astonished. Niall has never, ever talked to him like that. When
the excited scream of his fellow classmates floats into the stairwell from the
gym, Harry screams with them, only in anger. He thrusts his hand out,
punching the air then pulls it back, running his fingers through his curls on
his neck.
“Are you okay?” Harry hears a soft raspy voice say behind him, dread now
filling his veins. He is supposed to be at the pep rally with all the other
football players, so what the fuck is he doing here? Harry wipes his eyes
quickly before turning away, not wanting him to even see them water. He
will not give him the satisfaction. Harry ignores him and tries to walk past
him, but the other man steps in his path. Harry flinches away, not wanting
to be touched.
“I asked, if you’re okay,” he says again, blue eyes soft. Harry shouldn’t
have looked at them, knowing full well what those eyes do to him. His hair
is soft, and he is wearing his football jersey and jeans, like all of the players
on the team do on Fridays. The fact that it is homecoming week making it
even more of a requirement. It’s not the first time Harry has seen him today,
but it is the first time he has really looked at him.
“Move, Louis.” Harry’s voice sounds broken and cracked even to his own
ears. He silently berates himself, wanting it to come out firm and strong. He
can’t let Louis see him upset. He can’t give him something else to go and
talk to his preppy friends about.
“No. I wanted to talk to you,” Louis tells him, crossing his arms in front of
his chest, widening his stance even more, the voices from the gym echoing
around him. He has a look of determination on his face, lips in a thin line,
eyes narrowed. It would be hot, if Harry didn’t hate him so much.
“Well, tough shit, ‘cause I don’t wanna talk to you,” Harry says his southern
accent becoming more pronounced with his anger. He moves to go up the
stairs, but Louis just stands in his way again, effectively pushing him
towards the dark area under the stairs, so all of his exits are blocked.
“Will you please just listen to me?” Louis asks, eyes pleading voice going
straight to Harry’s heart, like a stabbing pain. Harry takes a moment to
really look at his features. Louis looks tired, his voice is just a hair more
scratchy, like he is upset, too. Harry doesn’t know why he would be upset.
His life is fucking fantastic. He has a girlfriend, and he is on the football
team. Every single person and teacher in the school loves and adores him,
so why the fuck would he be upset?
“Why don’t you go find your girlfriend and talk to her?” Harry spits the
words out like they are poison. They make his mouth taste bitter, acid rising
in his throat. He knows it isn’t fair to be mad at Louis for having a
girlfriend. He doesn’t even know if Louis is gay. For all he knew, Louis
could have been trying to be his friend, and Harry has taken Louis’ friendly
actions the wrong way. Or Louis could have been fucking with him all
along, flirting with him even though he is straight just to be a dick. Harry is
going to go with the latter, allowing him to hold onto his anger for a little
longer.
“I don’t want to talk to her. I want to talk to you,” Louis insists, stepping
towards Harry. Harry takes a step back out of instinct, his mind briefly
flashing back to middle school.
Louis is not them. Louis will not hurt you. He reminds himself, as he eyes
the other man. He really doesn’t think Louis will physically hurt him, but
old habits die hard. He can’t stop his body from responding that way, his
mind automatically jumping to the worst possible scenario.
“So you admit that you have a girlfriend? Gee. Thanks for telling me now, a
whole fucking week after the fact,” Harry says, sarcasm dripping into every
word as he gesticulates his words. He knows Willow is Louis’ girlfriend.
Every kid in the whole fucking school knows, but it is still painful to hear
Louis actually admit it outloud. His stomach feels like it’s in knots, his arms
and hands shaky.
“It’s not like that,” Louis responds, shaking his head as another muffled
scream surrounding them. What the fuck does that even mean? It’s not like
that? He either has a girlfriend or he doesn’t, there are no other options. He
basically just said he does have a girlfriend, so how is it not like that? Harry
isn’t sure he cares to find out, not wanting to hear Louis’ bullshit.
“Really? Not like that, huh? I would ask if she is just your fuck buddy, but
you two probably wear fucking purity rings or something, wanting to save
yourself for marriage in the name of God or some shit. Did her meeting
your parents not go well? Was she not virginal and demure enough for
them?” Harry asks, watching as Louis flinches at his words. Good. He
wants to hurt him. He wants to hurt Louis like he has been hurting all
fucking week. Maybe then Louis will understand the pain he has endured.
He knows it’s not fair though, since Louis is only responsible for a small
fraction of that pain, but as Harry always says, life isn’t fair.
“You heard that?” Louis phrases it like a question, but it is more of a

statement, an observation. Harry can hear the cheerleaders in the gym doing
their routine, the god awful pop music now filling the corridor offering a
horrendous backing track to an even more horrendous conversation. Harry
just wants it to be over. Everything. This conversation. This month. This
school year. His life.
“Yes. I’m not fucking deaf, Louis. I heard you ask if she was ready to go to
your house for dinner. I also saw you hanging all over her. May as well
have been in each other’s fucking skin,” Harry says, taking another step
back to try and put some distance between them. He can feel Louis’ body
heat radiating off of him in waves, and Harry can’t handle it. Not when he
is this angry. This hurt. He can feel the cool surface of the wall against his
skin now, cooling him down.
“Just let me explain…” Louis starts, but Harry cuts him off as excited
cheers from the gym surround them, a stark contrast to the heaviness of
their conversation. The happiness of their fellow classmates does nothing to
sooth Harry’s sadness. His own emptiness. In all honesty, this is the most he
has felt all week. He was doing such a good job of burying it deep, never
letting his emotions see the light of day. Here comes Louis, though, to fuck
that up, too. Why can’t he just leave him alone to suffer through his misery?
Why does he have to always tilt his world on its axis and make him feel ?
“Explain what, Louis? You want to tell me how fucking stupid and naive I
am for ever believing that you would want me? Explain how you decided to
fuck with me because I’m the weird kid, and I looked like an easy target?
Or maybe you want to describe in detail your elaborate joke about
pretending to be my friend, getting me to talk to you, convincing me that
maybe you and I aren’t that different, then stabbing me in the fucking back?
Hmm? Which is it? I’m waiting, Louis. I’m all fucking ears.” Harry’s deep
voice echoes in the stairwell, mingling with the screams of joy from his
fellow students in the gym. He is breathing heavily again now, back
pressing against the wall. Louis looks hurt by his accusation, his blue eyes
shiny, his firm lips wobbly. Harry hates himself for not being pleased by his
expression. He hates himself for wanting to hug him and tell him he doesn’t
mean any of it, even though he sort of does somewhere deep inside.
“Do you really think that of me? Really think I would do that?” Louis asks,
his voice cracking with the question. Harry has to look away, because
seeing Louis appear so upset is making his resolve crumble. He blinks back
his own tears, eyes stinging with them. He will not cry. He will not give
Louis the satisfaction of seeing him cry or the ammunition to use it against
him in the future. He bites down on the inside of his own cheek to stop the
tears from falling and embarrassing him further.
“I don’t know what to think. I don’t even know who you are anymore. Not
that I ever really did it seems,” Harry says, staring at the darkened area
under the stairs, so he doesn’t have to meet Louis’ gaze. His mind is
whirring with with everything going on in front of him and around him, he
can’t fucking concentrate with Louis looking at him like that. And the
voices of his excited classmates continue to carry through the hallways,
only adding to his agitation.
“Harry, I am your friend. None of that was a lie or a prank. I swear to

you...” Harry thinks Louis’ face is getting closer to his, he can almost feel
his breath on his lips. He refuses to move away though, partly because he
has no where else he can go with his back now pressing against the wall and
partly because he just feels defeated. Harry wants to believe him. He wants
to believe the words, but he can’t. Not after everything he has been through.
“Bullshit, Louis. Fuck off,” Harry spits, finally facing him. His eyes
immediately go to Louis’ dark pink lips, Louis wetting them with an
equally pink tongue. Before he is even able to process what is going on,
those same lips are on his. The lips he has been dreaming of since the first
fucking day of school. They are wet and firm against his own as small
hands come up to to tangle in his curls. Their chests are pressing together
with their proximity. Louis feels soft and perfect against him. Harry isn’t
sure what to do now, because for all intents and purposes, this is his first
kiss.
He leaves his hands at his sides because what the fuck is he supposed to do
with those? Grab Louis’ shapely ass? Maybe put them on the small of
Louis’ back? He isn’t even sure this is really happening, so he opts to leave
them dangling at his side. He comes to his senses a bit after a few seconds
pass, and he finally starts kissing back, parting his lips. Almost as soon as it
happens though, Louis pulls away, crooking his head in the direction of the
gym. Harry thinks he has done something wrong. He is probably a terrible
kisser. He has never done it before, and he seems to be terrible at everything
else concerning people. He starts to panic as Louis smiles at him.
“And now, to introduce our football players!” A disembodied voice says,

echoing in the stairwell. Harry is stunned. His brain feels like it is short
circuiting. He isn’t sure what the fuck just happened. Did Louis kiss him? Is
this a fucking dream? Because he hasn’t slept more than sixteen hours total
all week, so he could have very well fallen asleep. Maybe he is
hallucinating. He digs his fingers into the now healing marks on his arm,
feeling them sting with the pressure. Nope. Not a dream. This is actually
fucking happening. Louis kissed him. Fuck.
“Look. I’ve gotta go. You’re coming to the game though, right? Can we talk
after? My parents will be there, but I can probably get a few minutes away,
and we can go somewhere alone, under the bleachers or something, to
continue this conversation. Please?” Louis begs, looking frantic now, eyes
glancing in the direction of the gym where he is clearly supposed to be.
Harry just nods dumbly, not trusting his voice.
“Great. I’ll explain everything then. I promise,” Louis says, getting up on

his tiptoes, pressing their lips together again, this time quicker, and then
he’s gone. Harry touches his lips, not quite allowing himself to believe what
just happened. He stares at the door as it closes, the sound echoing around
him. Flashes of their conversation float in his mind, the feeling of Louis’
lips on his own burning into his memory. He almost forgets how angry he is
at Louis. He isn’t even sure if he is angry anymore, not after that. He is
more confused than anything else. Louis is definitely into men, but Harry
doesn’t want to be his dirty little secret. He doesn’t want to be used as a
way for Louis to cheat on his girlfriend. He could never do that to Willow.
He guesses he is going to the stupid fucking football game after all. He
shakes his head, and starts walking in the direction of the gym. Holy shit.
Chapter End Notes
And before you tell me no one is as bad as Mark, you should really try
talking to my family members...
As always, kudos and Comments are always welcome!

Conflicted
Chapter Summary
Louis and Harry have a much needed conversation where something

between them shifts. Then Harry wants to kill Niall.
Chapter Notes
And I hate that I'm conflicted
This addiction's got me twisted on you
I'm conflicted, contradictive
Got my body confused
I'm yes or no, I will, I won't
I'm conflicted and addicted
So come over and make up my mind- Halestorm

“Osborne just scored a touchdown for the Pioneers making the score 15-14,
with only 30 seconds left on the clock. The Pioneers will kick off and
Tomlinson, number 28, is back deep for the Rebels. He catches the ball, and
he’s off!” Louis barely registers the disembodied voices as he feels the ball
in his hands and takes off into a sprint. His head hasn’t been in the game all
night, eyes continuing to roam to Harry in the stands sitting next to Niall.
Harry who has been paying absolutely zero attention to the game all night,
instead, opting to read. Of course Harry I-Don’t-Do-Sports-Ball Styles
would read during a football game. Louis thinks he has never been more
endeared.
As he runs, he glances over to the curly haired boy in the stands, watching
as his dark brow furrows at the book in his large ringed hands, his lips
puckered at the words. Not for the first time, Louis’ mind drifts back to the
kiss they shared in the dark, back stairwell of the school. Louis still can’t
believe he fucking kissed him. What was he thinking? He was just so hurt
that Harry would think that of him, and he could tell the other boy was
gearing up for another rant. He shut him up the only way he knew how,
with his lips on Harry’s. It was the most perfect kiss Louis has ever
experienced. The cool air on his lips now did nothing to replace the warmth
of Harry’s against his own from a few hours ago. It was the most daring
thing Louis had ever done, and he, strangely enough, doesn’t regret it.
Louis’ attention snaps back to the game as he feels another body collide
with his own, knocking the breath out of him. The ball slips from his
fingers before he hits the ground. “Oooo, Tomlinson takes a hit and fumbles
the ball, but the Rebels are able to recover! Tomlinson has seemed out of
the game all night. Rebels call a timeout,” the announcer says, voice
booming over the field and stands. Louis gets up, and shakes his head. He
glances over at his family as he makes his way over to the side of the field
for the time out. Mark is red faced and screaming in his direction, hands
flailing wildly. Louis grimaces, not even wanting to know what the man is
currently saying about him.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Tomlinson? You need to get your
goddamn head out of your fucking ass and play the game,” Coach Stanley
screams, gum barely staying in his mouth, as Louis removes his helmet.
Louis just nods because he really has nothing to say for himself. He has
been distracted, but he thinks it is the best kind of distraction. Mark is still
yelling on the sidelines, Louis can hear every other word now. Phrases like
‘fucking moron’, ‘playing like a fucking girl’ and ‘no son of mine’ floating
through the air like pollution, making Louis feel even more like a fuck up.
The coach is explaining their next play, but Louis is barely paying attention,
just nodding along. He really should be paying attention, a lot is riding on
him, but he keeps glancing towards Harry. He is now smiling down at his
book, his green eyes sparkling in the harsh light of the stadium. His cheeks
are bright red from the cool air, making the paleness of his skin stand out
even more. He looks so beautiful it physically hurts Louis.
“Alright, get your lazy asses out there and get us that W!” The coach yells,
pointing towards the field with one fat finger. Louis would like to see this
guy get out there and fucking run for hours on end. The man probably
hasn’t seen his own feet in years, his belt barely holding his pants up under
his large gut. He is just some washed out player that peaked in high school
and has been yelling at younger more talented people for the past 25 years.
Louis would pay big money to see him run across the field or fuck, even
throw a ball. He would probably dislocate his shoulder if he even tried then
have a heart attack from exertion.
Louis puts on his helmet and strap ups with the rest of the team, feeling a
few of his teammates hit him on his pads as he walks towards the 60 yard
line. “And we’re back, score 15-14, Pioneers, with only 15 seconds
remaining on the clock. Rebels still have possession of the ball, but
Tomlinson has the chance to deliver something special here to secure the
win.” As Louis gets into position, he looks back over at Harry. He sees
Niall nudge his friend, Harry’s attention snapping towards Louis, green
eyes finally meeting with his. He quickly puts his book down, smiles at
Louis and shoot him a thumbs up. That is the best encouragement Louis has
received all night. Not his coach yelling at him, not Mark screaming about
how terrible Louis is, but Harry smiling and giving him a thumbs up. He
hasn’t even been paying attention to the game, but he has faith that Louis
can do it. Faith from Harry. That’s all Louis really needs.
Louis gets into position and waits for the ball to be snapped. He takes off
when it is in the hands of the Quarterback, running a few yards and turning
to catch the ball as it is being thrown to him. With Harry’s eyes on him, he
makes a mad dash towards the end zone, feet flying while dodging anyone
that gets in his way. He glances back to see Liam block someone that was
about tackle him, Liam usually has his back, thank God. He can almost feel
Harry’s eyes on him as he continues to run down the field, using Harry as
fuel to get to the endzone. He just wants to end the damn game so he can
finally clear the air with Harry. If this his how he needs to do it, then he will
dodge fifty fucking players from the other team and God himself to do so.
“Look at Tomlinson go! When he takes off, nobody can catch him! He’s at
the 40, 30, 15 and TOUCHDOWN!” The announcer yells, the entire
stadium erupting into cheers, sending a chill through Louis’ spine as the rest
of his teammates grab him and hoist him onto their shoulders. Louis barely
registers any of it though, as he cranes his head to spot Harry on his feet,
cheering along with Niall and the rest of the crowd. His eyes are bright,
curls windswept, cheeks and lips even more red, with large fists in the air. It
looks strange to see Harry outwardly showing so much emotion, especially
happiness, but it looks so fucking good him. Louis decides then that he
wants Harry to look this happy for the rest of his life, because a smiling
Harry Styles is what dreams are made of, not winning a highschool football
game.
He never takes his eyes off of Harry who is now smiling at him, dimples
popping, making Louis want to swoon. He removes his helmet, running his
gloved fingers through his sweaty hair and smiles back, barely registering
as every single one of his teammates pat his body in someway, wherever
they can reach, several of them smacking his ass. He finally tears his eyes
away from Harry to see his mom and sisters smiling and waving happily.
Mark still looks angry, but he will have to get over it. They won, why does
it matter if it was at the last possible second? Louis has always had a flare
for the dramatic, after all.
He walks over to the sideline with the rest of his team, not paying attention
to a single word the coach says. Again, he looks at Harry. He nods his head
towards a spot under the bleacher, silently trying to tell the other boy to
meet him there. Harry nods back in understanding, then turns to say
something to Niall who is practically yelling at him. Louis smiles, wishing
he could be in on their conversation. He turns his attention back to his
coach, catching the end of his usual ‘good job, I knew you could do it’
speech. It’s funny because not even five minutes ago, the asshole was
cussing them out and calling them pussies. Funny how things change when
people are successful.
When he looks up next, he finds Harry has disappeared, Niall shooting him
a confused look. “Hey, Li, man, I need a favor,” Louis says, clapping Liam
on the shoulder. Liam turns to him with confused eyes, clearly ready to do
whatever Louis is about ask.
“What’s up?”
“I need you to cover for me with my parents. If they ask where I am, just
tell them I had to go to the bathroom or something,” Louis says, trying to
convey to his friend with his eyes how desperately he needed this. He
quickly glances over at his parents who are currently making their way
down the bleachers towards him. He turns back to Liam with panicked
eyes.
“Yeah, sure. Where ya going?” Liam asks, also glancing in the direction of
Louis’ family.
“I can’t tell you,” Louis stutters out, feeling terrible for asking Liam to lie
for him when he can’t even tell him the goddamned truth. He is such shitty
friend.
“Okay. That’s fine, man. I understand. You know, you can tell me anything,
though. Right? Whenever you’re ready,” Liam says, his dark eyes sincere.
A jolt of panic goes straight through Louis. Does Liam know? Fuck, does
he suspect? What if he tells Louis’ family? Oh fuck, but Liam looks earnest,
as if trying to tell Louis that he cares. Louis just gives him a small smile.
“Go,” Liam says, clapping him on the back and pushing him, right as
Louis’ parents step onto the field a few yards away. Louis sprints off in the
opposite direction. He looks around to make sure no one is watching him
then ducks under the bleachers, giving his eyes a moment to adjust to the
dim light. He suddenly feels more nervous than he felt the entirety of the
football game as he looks around for Harry. His stomach is in knots, his
gloved hand is sweaty as he grips his helmet under his left arm.
“Right here,” he hears a deep voice say to his left, causing him to jump in
the air, almost hitting his head on a low beam. That’s just what he needs, a
fucking concussion. He places a hand on his chest in hopes to calm his
racing heart. He was already nervous, now he can add scared shitless to the
never ending list of ever present emotions he is currently going through. It
snuggles nicely between ‘oh shit Harry is looking at me’ and ‘what if God’s
not real?’, those are emotions, right? They have to be because he feels them
every single fucking day of his life lately.
“You scared the fuck out of me,” Louis says gripping the helmet he almost
dropped and looks at Harry’s dark from. He steps closer, their bodies almost
touching, so they can see each other in the dim light. It is perfect.
“Oops.” Harry laughs, clearly not sorry about it. Louis smiles, so glad to
just hear his voice again after a week of being completely deprived. He
doesn't think he will ever forget this conversation. It feels almost pivotal for
some reason. The tension between them quickly returns, almost feeling as
though a weight has been dropped on them in their dark hole under the
bleachers.
“Hi,” Louis says, voice barely above a whisper. His eyes trail to Harry’s
lips. The same lips he had been kissing just a few hours prior. He still can’t
believe he did that. He has no idea what he was thinking, but if he is going
to commit a sin, it may as well be for Harry Styles. He realizes he doesn't
regret his decision to kiss Harry. It felt almost inevitable in some way. Like
some indescribable force has been pulling him to Harry since the very first
day of school. Maybe it was is heart. Maybe it is his brain. He is certain,
though, it isn’t God.
“So, um-- wanna tell me what’s going on?” Harry ventures after a few
moments of silence, just the remaining noise from the fans left in the
stadium. Louis thinks it’s strange that they keep having these conversations
when there are so many happy and excited people around them. It strangely
fits though. Louis suddenly feels sick again, the elation from hearing
Harry’s voice gone in the cool breeze blowing under the bleachers. His
stomach feels like it is tied in knots and he searches his brain for the best
way to begin.
“I don’t know where to begin,” Louis says finally, sighing. They haven't
even started, and he already feels defeated. He is so scared of fucking this
up. He would give up the win of the football game he just played, if it
meant that this conversation would be successful. He fidgets with the
helmet still tucked under his arm, looking down at Harry’s pigeon toed feet.
“Louis, I don’t want to be your dirty little secret. I am not going to help you
cheat on Willow just to scratch some fucking itch and get it out of your
system. So, why don’t you start by telling me what you meant when you
said you and Willow aren’t like that?” Harry asks, his deep voice slow and
measured. Louis’ gaze snaps up to meet Harry’s. He begins the statement
with a harsher tone of voice, but his green eyes are soft and curious, as if he
just wants answers. Louis doesn't blame him, if he were in Harry’s position
he would want answers as well.
“Willow is only my girlfriend by label. We made a deal. She would pretend

to be my girlfriend to get my parents off my back, and I would do the same
for her,” Louis finally answers, looking down again in embarrassment. He
has no idea why he is embarrassed, but his cheeks are heating with the
admission. His face feeling like it is on fire.
“Why do your parents care if you have a girlfriend?” Harry asks, and Louis
was not expecting Harry to talk so much, nor ask this many questions. It is
kind of strange actually speaking to Harry, and not just reading his messy
scrawl written on a page, in mostly capital letters. He isn’t sure what he was
expecting, but he and Harry haven't ever really had a long verbal
conversation, unless you count the fight from earlier. The one that ended in
the best kiss Louis has ever experienced. His dick twitches in his cup just
thinking about it. He somehow made it through the entirety of the pep rally
without climbing the bleachers and tasting Harry’s sinful lips again. This
had to be what Eve felt like in the Garden of Eden, because Harry’s taste is
sinful. Like everything Louis wants, but knows he can’t have. Louis is
desperate for another taste, but he can't right now. He has some explaining
to do, even though he would much rather go back to allowing Harry to suck
his soul out through his mouth. Doesn’t seem like he would have much use
for his soul anyway, given that it will be damned it seems.
“Because my step-dad is a bit of a misogynistic pig that measures every

man’s worth by how many women he’s linked to. At every single new
school, I am expected to have a girlfriend by the third week, tops,” Louis
explains, rolling his eyes at the mention of Mark. Harry nods his head,
almost as if he understands.
“Louis, it’s October, if that’s the case, you should have had a girlfriend
weeks ago,” Harry points out.
“I bought myself some time,” Louis answers, honestly.
“Why did you need to, though? Why didn’t you just do what you seem to
have done at other schools?” Harry asks, his dark brows drawn with the
question, causing two little wrinkles to form on his forehead. Louis wants to
kiss them. He shakes his head, trying to stay in the conversation.
“Because-- um…” Louis pauses, not sure how he wants to continue. He

takes a deep breath and decides to just go with the truth. He feels like they
are teetering on the edge of something, and he is afraid he will fuck it up by
lying. He doesn’t want to lie to Harry. He would lie to himself all day, but
Harry is different. “You.”
“What about me?” Harry asks, eyes widening with Louis’ last word. A pang
hits Louis in the chest. It’s like Harry can’t understand why anyone would
even take him into consideration, as though no one has ever cared enough
to. Louis wants to change Harry’s mindset about that. He doesn’t need to
know the details of whatever suffering Harry has endured to prove to the
other boy that not everyone is the same. Louis doesn't want to hurt him. He
has hurt him, this Louis knows, but it was never his intention.
“I met you. I wanted to be with you, so I lied to buy myself time. The very
idea of fake dating a girl makes me sick, regardless. Then I met Willow in
Bible Club, and came up with the plan. At least this time, the girl I am fake
dating is in on it, and I don’t have to fake an attraction. I don’t have to hide
what I want to have with you,” Louis whispers the last part, like a secret. It
is one though, his biggest secret. He wants more with Harry, but he can’t
believe he actually just said it outloud.
“What do you want with me?” Harry asks, and that’s a good fucking
question. Louis isn’t sure how to answer and definitely doesn’t think he
could say what he wants out loud. He bites his lip, trying to think of the best
way to say it without actually saying it. He is still confused as to what he
wants, truth be told. Well, he knows what he wants, but he also knows he
shouldn’t want it.
“I want to be with you,” Louis whispers, because he is afraid God will

smite him where he stands if he says the words any louder. They already
feel so loud to his ears, almost as if he screamed them instead of saying
them so low, he is sure Harry barely heard him over the sound of the
excited chatter all around them. Harry narrows his eyes at him, as if trying
to decide if he is lying or not. Louis tries to put as much honesty into his
gaze as he can muster, willing Harry to believe him for once in his goddamn
life. To actually believe that he is worth something to someone.
“Is this some kind of joke, Louis?” Harry asks, and Louis wants to fucking
scream. Jesus, he feels like they have had this conversation at least four
million seventy-two thousand three-hundred and sixty eight times in the
past two months, but here they are again, back to the fucking definition of
insanity. Harry is going to drive him insane, Louis just knows it, but he is
strangely okay with this, as long as Harry keeps kissing him like he did
before. What the fuck does Louis have to do to convince Harry that he is
sincere? At this point, he has considered writing it in the sky, screaming it
from the highest Mountain, and, his favorite, tattooing that shit on his
fucking forehead. Maybe then Harry will actually understand. He tries not
to be too frustrated. He knows something had to have happened in Harry’s
life that has made him believe that no one would ever want anything with
him, but instead he loses his cool, letting his frustration out.
“Despite my parents’ constant bitching, I avoided getting a girlfriend for

you. I put up with your shitty fucking attitude towards me. I have done
everything in my power to get you to open the fuck up to me, including
making friends with Niall, so you would be forced to talk to me. I fucking
kissed you. I am questioning everything I knew, everything I've ever been
taught and believed in. For you , Harry. When will you stop asking me that
stupid fucking question? Jesus,” Louis snaps, because he is so tired of
defending his actions to Harry.
Sure last week was a total fucking mess, but he thought that kissing him
would actually prove something. He seems to be wrong, again. He has the
sudden urge to throw his helmet, needing something to do to let the anger
rising in his chest out. He has never in his life met someone that makes him
so incredibly fucking frustrated. Harry is the epitome of a contradiction to
him. He wants to strangle him with his hands, and yet run his fingers
through his dark curls at the same time. He want to smack his face, and yet
kiss his lips. He wants to tackle him, then either punch him for being so
fucking frustrating or hump the apprehension right out of him. Words. He
must use his words.
“I don’t think Jesus has anything to do with this, babe,” Harry finally
responds, a smirk in place, and Louis could fucking cry. He feels like he
may have finally broken through one of the many fucking walls Harry has
constructed around his heart and soul. Louis wants to howl in joy and dance
at the victory. It feels way more triumphant than their win of the football
game just moments ago. He feels like they have been under the bleachers
for hours, when, in reality, it has only been mere minutes. Time seems to
stand still when he is with Harry though, which is fine by him since they
never seem to have enough time. As if they will always run out of it, with
words unspoken and skin untouched.
Louis laughs because of course Harry would say something like that. He
can feel the tension between them being released, floating away on the cool
breeze along with the chatter of the crowd. His smile fades when he looks
up into Harry’s eyes. There is a seriousness in them that wasn’t there a
moment ago, as if he is trying to come to a decision. Louis bites his lip,
waiting. The old tension being replaced by something completely different.
Like charged electricity in the air, much like what Louis felt when the game
had first started. His stomach knots with the anticipation of what’s to come.
Louis watches Harry’s light pink tongue dart out to lick his red lips, the
same tongue Louis was touching with his own hours ago, even though it
feels like days at this point. Harry hesitantly reaches out both hands, placing
them on Louis’ hips between his football pads and his pants, making the
skin below the material heat up. He uses those same ridiculously large
hands to pull Louis to him so that their chest are aligned. He looks into
Louis’ eyes one more time, seeming to search for something Louis isn’t
sure he will find. Louis wants to squirm under his gaze, the intensity in
Harry’s green eyes weighing on him. Finally after what feels like a lifetime,
Harry grips Louis’ waist tighter, bends down, and brings their lips slowly
together.
Louis lets Harry control the pace of the kiss this time. Harry kisses like he
talks, slow and methodical. As if he is planning every little movement
before he actually does it. At first he keeps it soft and gentle, feeling
everything out before deepening it. He licks the seam of Louis mouth to
gain entrance, which Louis quickly grants, because tasting Harry is his new
favorite thing to do. It is like a drug, a very sinful drug, and Louis has no
idea how he will kick the habit. He isn’t even sure he wants to. Why would
God hate something that feels so inherently right ? How could it be so
wrong to feel this good? He moans when Harry’s tongue begins exploring
his mouth. He briefly wonders how much experience Harry has with
kissing, since he seems to be so hesitant about it. He is probably just
hesitant because it’s Louis though. Louis who is the epitome of everything
Harry seems to hate in life.
Louis drops his helmet onto the grass in favor of putting his arms around
Harry’s neck, deepening their kiss even more. He feels one large palm
cupping his cheek, ringed fingers touching his sweaty hair. Louis almost
can’t believe this is happening. Harry is actually kissing him. Harry, who
has done everything he can to avoid any kind of relationship with Louis.
Harry, who has more trust issues than Louis has ever seen in an seventeen
year old person. Harry, who is very different than himself, but he feels so
drawn to. If this is a dream, Louis doesn't want to ever wake up. He can be
safe in his dreams. There he doesn’t have to worry about persecution from
both his family and God. In his dreams, he can be who he wants to be
without being ashamed. His dreams are a good place, as long as they don’t
become nightmares.
They jump apart when they hear a loud bang followed by several loud pops
in succession. Louis’ heart skips a beat when they are both bathed in red
light, shadows dancing across their bodies. Louis and Harry both look
around for the source of the noise. “What the fuck?” Harry asks, eyes
searching the field towards the bright lights and sounds.
“Fireworks. Fuck. I almost forgot they were letting them off tonight for
homecoming,” Louis replies, the answer dawning on him, the imaginary
light bulb coming on over his head.
“Scared the piss out of me,” Harry says, holding his chest as if to calm his
heart down. He looks up at the peak of sky they can see from their vantage
point, his green eyes sparkling in the light.
“Me too,” Louis breaths out, also watching the brightly colored sparks from
between the risers. He looks at Harry in the light, observing the way the
rainbow colors dance across his beautiful features. The red over his lips, the
blue in his hair, the green over his eyes, and the rest of the colors on various
parts of his body, mingling with the shadows, creating an image Louis
wishes he could have framed. Of course it would be rainbow, no other
colors would ever suffice to bathe Harry’s beautiful pale skin. A rainbow is
also strangely fitting for the moment, although he is sure the firework
people would probably shit an entire brick house if they had known what
was taking place beneath their colored lights.
“Harry, umm-- I’m sorry to cut this short again, but I have to go. My
parents are going to be looking for me. Liam can only cover for me for so
long before they actually send out a search party with too bright flashlights,
cadaver dogs, the whole nine yards,” Louis jokes prompting a smile from
Harry.
“It’s fine, Lou. I understand,” Harry tells him, letting his small smile bloom
into something so bright, the fireworks themselves are muted.
“Okay. Um-- will you be at the Homecoming dance tomorrow night?”

Louis asks, voice hesitant. He isn’t sure where they will go from here, but
he wants something more concrete. He doesn't want them to just find each
other to make out, maybe give the occasional hand job. He could find that
anywhere.
“I wasn’t planning on it. Dances aren’t really my thing,” Harry responds,

brows creasing in thought.
“Well I will be there with Willow, without my parents breathing down my

neck. Maybe you can make it your thing?” Louis asks, thumbing Harry’s
black jacket, the old worn leather catching on the rubber of his gloves.
“Maybe,” Harry shrugs, but smirks giving Louis the indication that he will
be there.
“Okay. Umm--bye.” Louis is suddenly feeling very awkward. Before he can

question himself, he fists Harry’s jacket, gets on the tip toes of his cleats,
and kisses Harry gently on the lips. Harry’s lips are still warm under his
own. He just wants one more taste before he has to go back to reality. Once
they break apart, he stares into Harry’s eyes again, hoping to find his
answers there. He doesn’t. He waves goodbye, picks up his helmet and
ducks out from the bleachers. He quickly catches Liam’s gaze, smiles and
waves to the other boy who is talking to Mark pretending to be interested in
what the other man has to say. Louis walks up to the group, watching Harry
emerge from the same spot minutes later, and he hopes nobody else noticed.
__________
“Why the fuck did I agree to this? I’m a fucking masochist,” Harry groans
out, placing both hands over his face, rubbing up and down furiously, trying
to scrub the memories from last night out of his mind. He opens his eyes,
blinking at the light and quickly realizes it didn’t work. He still remembers
the fight, the pep rally, seeing Louis score the winning… touchdown… it is
a touchdown right? Or was it like a homerun? He doesn’t really know or
care. He just knows Louis scored the winning points. Then he remembers
everything afterwards in vivid detail. Their conversation, the exchanged
touches and kisses, his agreeance to go to the dance, all burned into his
brain like a brand that he will never, ever forget.
“We already knew you were a masochist, and you agreed because you like
him,” Niall sing songs the last part, wiggling his eyebrows at Harry,
pushing another item of clothing to the side. Harry told Niall that he didn’t
need help dressing himself, but after Niall had heard the story of what took
place, he insisted on coming over for a chat. Harry has no idea why he even
told Niall. He considers it a brief moment of insanity. He has been having a
lot of those lately, like the moment he chose to kiss Louis again. He may as
well check himself into a mental hospital, because he is definitely fucked
up. He's always been a little fucked up though, so he may as well add this to
the ever growing list of proofs.
“No, I don’t,” Harry insists, watching as Niall makes a face at yet another
one of his nicer shirts, then pushes it to what he has labeled the ‘pasty ass
emo kid, so no thanks,’ side of the closet. Why does he like Niall? Oh yeah,
he is literally the only person that will speak to Harry. Besides Louis. And
now Liam. Fuck. What has Louis done? Has he become, dare he say,
sociable? If so, he wants to go back because this is maddening.
“Then why are you going to, what were the words you used?” Niall places
his finger up to his chin, looking up pretending to be in thought for a few
seconds. Harry glares at him and goes to interrupt before he strangles him,
but Niall continues, “Oh yeah, an antiquated sexist dance where everyone's
aim is to spike the punch and lose their virginity. I believe you said only
people with less than five brain cells are going.”
“I said three,” Harry corrects.
“Six one way, half a dozen the other,” Niall dismisses. When Harry glares,
he explains, “Three is less than five, so my point still stands.” Niall points a
finger at Harry triumphantly. Yes. Harry is for sure going to strangle Niall
before the afternoon is over. Why Niall wanted to come over now when the
dance doesn’t start for another four hours is beyond him. Probably to drive
him crazy. It’s working. He’s succeeding. Give him a fucking trophy and
not even a useless one, like the kind they give for participating. He needs an
actual trophy with a little version of him at the top crushing Harry’s brain in
his hands, and his name engraved into the golden plate at the bottom: Niall
James Horan 1st place in Driving his Best Friend Mental.
“Niall, why do you hate me?” Harry sighs because that has to be it. Niall
hates him. It is the only plausible explanation as to why this entire fucking
conversation is currently taking place.
“Stop deflecting. Just admit you like him. You fuckin’ kissed the guy. He
was your first kiss, Haz. You can’t pretend you don’t like him. I know you
do, and the first step is admitting it,” Niall says, his features stern as if he is
scolding a child.
“Jesus, Niall, I’m not an alcoholic. This isn't a twelve step program,” Harry
quips. He can’t help it. It’s far better than the alternative which is actually
saying what he is feeling out loud. Saying it out loud makes it seem more
real, more believable, and Harry still isn’t sure how much he wants to
believe. He knows what Louis told him, but his brain still finds that
incomprehensible for many reasons. He is still uncertain of Louis’ motives,
especially after the bullshitery that was last week. He does, however, feel a
shit tonne better knowing that Willow knows. He didn’t help Louis cheat on
his actual girlfriend. He helped him cheat on his pretend girlfriend, which is
better, he supposes. Who is he kidding? In which realm is that any better?
Harry wouldn’t want to take their relationship, or whatever this is, out into
the open for the world to see anyways. Getting stoned to death or being
burned at the stake does not sound like his idea of a fun Saturday afternoon,
so a secret relationship would be key for survival purposes.
“Deflecting,” Niall sing songs, pulling out the only pair of skinny jeans
Harry owns that do not have holes in them and throwing them on the bed. “I
feel like we have had this conversation at least a dozen times and my
patience is wearin’ thin. Why don’t you just fuckin’ admit it, so we can
move on with what you’re going to wear.”
“Fine. I like him,” Harry grits out through clenched teeth, feeling like he
has been backed into a corner. The words sound weird coming from his
own mouth, as if they weren’t meant for the outside world to hear. He
doesn't think they are. They were supposed to stay in his mind, never to be
released for a single person on Earth to hear and repeat. Admitting it
outloud is one step to believing it. Harry wants to believe it; he just doesn’t
know if he can. Not with his past. He knows Niall has a point, but that
doesn’t stop him from wanting to kick his ass for it.
“Awe, H! I’m so proud of ya! This must have been what my mom felt like
when she birthed me,” Niall exclaims, tackling Harry onto his bed in a hug.
Harry manages to keep his laugh and smile in, not wanting to reinforce
Niall's new touchy behavior towards him. Well, he had always been touchy
towards him, but he had never been ‘tackle on the bed’ touchy. Harry had
only ever really been tackled by one person, and it’s the same person that
currently haunts his dreams.
“Fuck off,” Harry says, pushing at Niall, but Niall makes himself a dead
weight, not allowing him room for much movement.
“You’ve come so far. Making out with boys in the back stairway then again
under the bleachers during the fucking homecoming game no less, where
anyone could see ya. Admitting you like said boy, and possibly starting a
secret relationship with him. This shit is the high school you see in movies.
I’m tellin’ ya, Haz, they are gonna write a book about it someday. Well,
let’s hope they make it into a movie, ‘cause books are borin’. Who do you
think they’d get to play me? Maybe Leonardo DiCaprio?” Niall asks,
crooking his head to the side in thought.
“Yeah, right. My story would never be interesting enough for that, and
Leonardo Dicaprio is too good looking to play you, not to mention he’s like
forty-five and could never pass for a high schooler,” Harry says, wiggling
his arms to try to free them of Niall’s tight hold.
“Semantics,” Niall dismisses, finally getting off Harry and sitting on the
bed, facing him, with an excited grin and a wicked glint in his eyes. “So tell
me about your first kiss. I need details. Don’t leave anything out.”
“No,” Harry responds flatly, but Niall just crosses his arms and raises his
eyebrows, waiting. Niall would literally stare at him all night if that’s what
it took to get Harry to talk. He has. It’s annoying but seemingly effective.
“Fine. It was nice.”
“Nice?” Niall looks unimpressed with the information. “Nice is how you
describe a car or your fucking day. You don’t describe your first kiss as
nice, unless it sucked.”
“It didn’t suck,” Harry says, allowing his mind to travel back to the the
empty stairwell. “It was amazing, actually. Louis’ lips were soft even
though he was clearly angry and frustrated with me. It was like a dream. As
if I was watching it from outside of my own body, but I could feel every
little thing. The very air around us felt electrifying, like it does before a big
storm.”
“Only you would describe your first kiss in such a grossly poetic manner,”
Niall chuckles, covering his mouth with his hand.
“Why the fuck did you ask then?” Harry punches Niall on the arm,
effectively getting Niall to stop with his giggles.
“Anything else? Was there tongue?” Niall asks, bobbing his eyebrows
suggestively.
“You know, for someone who claims to be straight, you sure are interested
in how two boys kissed,” Harry muses, punching Niall again, this time not
as hard.
“I am straight, but I’m also curious,” Niall defends, rubbing the spot on his
arm that Harry has now hit twice. His smile is still there, amusement
twinkling behind his blue eyes. Harry hates him. Harry needs more friends.
Scratch that. Harry needs less friends. That seems to be a way better
alternative.
“Didn’t curiosity kill the cat or something?” Harry asks, squinting at Niall,
hoping the other man takes the bait.
“It had nine lives, so… about those tongues. Where were they?” Niall asks,
shit eating grin spreading across his face. Harry goes to punch him again,
but Niall dodges this time, cackling loudly.
“Fine. If you must know, we didn’t get a chance to really use tongues the
first time. He had to go to the pep rally. Tongues happened under the
bleachers,” Harry informs, smiling at the memory. He still can’t believe it
fucking happened, and he has no idea how it happened even. He is trying to
tell himself that it’s okay that it happened. That Louis really is interested in
him and doesn’t want to hurt him. It’s just difficult to rewire his brain
towards positivity after so much negativity. Louis just seemed so sincere,
then again, so did Logan. Harry shakes his head, trying to release the image
of that boy from his mind, not wanting to taint the good memory of Louis.
“Now, we’re getting somewhere,” Niall says rubbing his hands together and
grinning like the cat that ate the canary. Why is he so excited about this? Is
this what girls feel like when they do sleepovers? He is sure it is nothing
like in the movies with sexy pillow fights that end in kissing. He has never
seen the appeal of two women kissing. That should have been his first clue
that he was gay. Very, very gay. His second clue probably came when the
boys started putting pictures of naked girls up in their lockers in middle
school when Harry wanted to display pictures of David Bowie.
“Seriously, why is my sex life so interesting to you? I never ask you about
the girls you bang or want to bang for that matter,” Harry points out,
shuddering to think of Niall with a girl. He knows Niall isn’t a virgin by any
stretch of the imagination, but that doesn’t mean Harry really wants to
envision it. Picturing Niall naked was like seeing his brother naked, and a
girl, no thank you. Harry would much rather stick to dudes. They are much
more fun to look at. He wonders what Louis would look like naked. In porn,
he has definitely seen his fair share of cocks. Louis probably has a nice one,
but his ass. Holy shit. His ass. Harry wants to grab it. Maybe he will find
the nerve to actually do so next time.
“So you wanna fuck Louis!?! I knew it!” Niall exclaims like it’s the best
discovery since sliced bread. Thank the Gods Harry’s mom isn’t home to
hear this. He’d like to think she would throw a shit fit, but she probably
wouldn’t actually care. Harry groans, dropping his face in his hands again.
Yes. Harry definitely needs less friends.
Chapter End Notes
I know! Finally! I was killing myself even.
Jet Black Heart
Chapter Summary
Louis goes to the dance and waits anxiously to see if Harry is going to
be there.
Chapter Notes
And thank you to anyone who is reading this as I post. I really love
you all xx
But now that I’m broken. Now that you know it
Caught up in a moment can you see inside?
'Cause I’ve got a jet black heart, and there’s a hurricane underneath it
Trying to keep us apart. I write with a poison pen
But these chemicals moving between us
Are the reason to start again- Five Seconds of Summer

“Do I look okay?” Louis asks Lottie, holding his hands out to his side. He
feels stupid. He refuses to get overly dressed up for the homecoming dance,
despite his mother’s wishes to rent him a suit. He is wearing dark red
trousers, a white dress shirt with a black collar that has a single button, and
a pair of black and white suspenders. He has the sleeves rolled up, wanting
it to look even more casual. He knows Mark is going to give him shit for
the suspenders, but he likes them, so Mark can fuck off.
“You look great. Willow is going to love it,” Lottie says, sitting on his bed
and assessing his outfit. Louis doesn’t really care what Willow thinks of it,
he knows she will be happy with anything he wears, is isn’t going there to
impress her; he wants to impress Harry. Of course, he can’t say that
outloud. He still can’t believe he actually made out with a boy, under the
bleachers of their high school, with his parents within yelling distance. He
doesn’t know what has gotten into him. He isn’t reckless by nature, but
something about Harry makes him want to throw caution to the wind.
It wasn’t his first time kissing a boy, but all of the other times were in the
dark with a loud party going on around them. They were alcohol fueled and
urgent, with one goal in mind: to get off. Kisses that happened in the dead
of the night, when both men tasted like alcohol, their minds were fuzzy with
need and inebriation. None of them felt that… innocent. Funny he uses the
word innocent to describe it because it was also filthy and sinful. It wasn’t
something that could easily be swept under the rug and dismissed as
drunken shenanigans. No. He had no excuse for this, which made him feel
uneasy. At least before, if he ever had to explain himself to God, he had an
excuse. He could chalk it up to the alcohol and teenage rebellion while
begging for mercy. This time, though, he doesn’t have one other than he
simply wanted it.
It felt so right. So fucking perfect, yet he knew it was wrong. It is wrong to

feel this way about a person of the same sex. He knows this. He just can’t
seem to stop himself. He wants Harry. Why is that wrong? Oh yeah, the
Bible says so. Not to mention the fact that if his parents ever found out, they
would probably send him away to never be seen again. So yes, he wants
Harry, but he also should probably keep his feelings at bay. At least until the
school year is over, and he can work out in his head if being attracted to the
same sex really is all that bad. He knows it is, but he also has his fair share
of doubts at this point. Stupid Harry. He never questioned things before
him. He always just planned to eventually stop hooking up with men, find
himself a nice normal girl to marry, and convince himself that he would be
happy. He would keep going to Church on Sunday, then maybe God would
have mercy on him to relieve him of his impure thoughts. God hasn’t done
that yet because all he can think about is Harry.
Harry with his long legs and pale skin. Harry with his curly hair and
ridiculously green eyes that he sometimes lines in black. Harry with his big
hands, long ringed fingers, and black painted nails. Harry who is aware of
everyone’s disapproval but doesn’t seem to give a fuck and continues to just
be himself. So yes, as much as he doesn't want to admit it to himself, it is
Harry he wants to impress. He really hopes Harry’s ‘maybe’ from the night
before really meant ‘yes’, because he has his hopes way up. He told Willow
what had happened with Harry in the stairwell then again after the game,
and she seemed genuinely happy for them which made him feel relieved.
“Louis! You better hurry, you’re supposed to be picking Willow up in

fifteen minutes!” Louis hears his mom yell from downstairs, effectively
snapping him out of his thoughts about Harry.
“Come on, Lots. Thanks for helping me by the way,” Louis says, gesturing
for his sister to follow him out of the room, shutting the door behind him.
She nods in response, trailing right behind him. As they walk down the
stairs, he allows himself to wonder what Harry will be wearing. He could
go for something a bit more dressy, like the shirt he was wearing that day in
the park. Knowing Harry, which Louis feels like he is starting to, he will
show up in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Fuck. Louis hopes he is wearing
eyeliner. That’s not a sentence Louis ever would have expected to think, but
it’s true. He likes it when his boy wears eyeliner. His boy? Louis likes the
sound of that, too. Well maybe not sound exactly, since he hasn’t said it
outloud, but he likes the way it sounds in his head, at least.
“Oh Lou, you look so handsome! Your first dance!” His mom exclaims,
blinding him with the flash on her phone as soon as he reaches the landing.
He blinks a few times, trying to get his eyes to adjust again then smiles at
her because she looks so happy.
“Thanks, Mom. I should be going though,” Louis says, praying that he will
get out of there without a Mark lecture.
“Wait, young man,” Mark interrupts, walking into the living room from the
kitchen. He stops, eyes raking over Louis appearance with a look of disgust.
Louis stands there quietly, thinking this has to be what judgement day will
feel like. He prays again, this time, that he will be allowed to leave in the
foreseeable future, and Mark won’t change his mind. “Those suspenders
make you look like a fucking fairy. Ridiculous.”
“I think they look great,” Jay disagrees placing two fingers under the
aforementioned clothing and tugging once then giving Louis a reassuring
smile. Louis is happy that his mom seems to be on his side for once.
“Thanks, Mom,” Louis says quietly, trying to keep his head up and his gaze
level with Mark. Showing fear would only make matters worse. It would
only mean Louis would have to change even though he very much likes his
outfit.
“Well I think you look stupid, and you should change. I don’t want my son
going to a dance looking like the fag in a boyband,” Mark huffs, eyes
slanted at Louis. Louis grits his teeth when Mark refers to him as his son.
Louis isn’t his son. He isn’t even sure he wants to be, although Mark did
legally adopt him. When that happened, he was thankful, but now, he hates
the very idea of calling Mark ‘dad’.
“Mark, don’t be like that. He is probably dressed like a lot of boys his age.
Let him go and live,” Jay responds, placing her hands on her hips. Louis
can’t believe his mom is actually standing up to Mark for him. This rarely
happens, and it if does, his mom usually loses because Mark pulls the ‘I’m
the man of this house’ card. His mom doesn’t seem to be backing down
right now, though. He holds his breath and waits for Mark’s response.
He really should have just worn something he knew would make Mark
happy. Well not happy, but that he would approve of. It would have saved
an argument and possibly Mark being unhappy with his mom. He should
know better than to try to be the slightest bit himself in the presence of
Mark. Over the years, he has learned to suppress his normal typically
flamboyant side, instead going for something more stilted and less natural
for himself. He hates it, but he has to. He has to do it to keep the peace and
to keep his family together. So what if he has to sacrifice himself and his
happiness? He would give it up for the happiness of his mom and sisters in
a heartbeat, which Mark seems to provide.
“Fine. If he wants go looking like that, then he can. I just hope nobody I
know sees him,” Mark says finally, gesturing towards Louis then stomping
back into the kitchen, probably to grab another beer. Louis sighs in relief,
glad it didn’t cause more of an argument than necessary. Well, he didn’t see
how it was necessary to argue about his choice in clothing at all, but he
supposes it is in his household.
“I think you look pretty, Lou,” Phoebe says with a small voice and wide
eyes. Louis likes that she chose the word ‘pretty’ even though Mark told her
not to refer to men that way. He is proud of her.
“Thanks, Phoebs, and I think you look pretty, too.” She beams at the
compliment, Louis messing up her hair a bit. She doesn't seem to mind, just
runs her small fingers through it and smiles.
“You’re gonna be late, better get going,” Fizzy says, looking at the clock
above the television. Fuck. She’s right. He is going to be late if he doesn’t
get going. He takes a deep breath, stealing his nerves. His mom gives him
another reassuring smile, which he appreciates then feels guilty because she
has no idea the real reason he is nervous. Louis kind of hates himself for
lying to her, but what else could he do? He could break things off with
Harry, but that doesn’t feel like an option.
__________
“Have you seen Harry?” Louis asks Liam, two hours into the dance. He
feels like time is slipping away from him. He can actually hear the seconds
tick by, and still no sight of Harry. Maybe Harry lied to him and had no
intentions of coming. Louis’ heart sinks at the thought. He thought he may
have actually broken one of Harry’s walls down, gotten through to him, but
maybe he was wrong. Maybe Harry is still second guessing everything. He
probably still doesn’t trust Louis, but Louis doesn't know what else he could
do. He really thought he had made a breakthrough.
“No. Honestly, this isn’t really his thing. I haven't seen him at a dance
since…” Liam’s sentence trails off, his gaze going into the air as if trying to
actually think of the last time he had seen Harry at a dance. Was it that long
ago? “I think since middle school,” Liam finally finishes, looking back at
Louis. Louis takes a drink of his punch, which has clearly been spiked with
vodka. He hasn’t drunk that much, so he feels fine. Mostly it is just making
him warm and loose.
“He just told me he would be here,” Louis says, trying to keep the
disappointment from his tone. He doesn't think he succeeds given the look
of confusion marring Liam’s features.
“He did? That’s weird. I’m still shocked he even talks to ya. Before you
came into town, he tended to keep to himself,” Liam says conversationally,
but Louis can hear the smallest hint of curiosity in his tone.
“Yeah…” Louis allows his thoughts to trail off as he glances around the
room again, spotting Niall walking towards them. He smiles at the other
man.
“Where’s Willow?” Liam asks, snapping Louis’ attention away from Niall.
Fuck. That’s a good damn question. He hasn’t seen her really since they had
gotten here. She went off with her friends when they had arrived. They
planned to meet back up before his curfew, so he could drop her off at home
like the good boyfriend he was supposed to be.
“Um…” Louis says, trying to buy some time as he looks for her flaming red
hair and black dress on the dance floor. He spots her a few seconds later and
smiles when he sees who she is with. “She’s dancing with her friend Tara.”
Louis points to the two girls with bright smiles as they laugh when Willow
almost trips in her heels, Tara steadying her.
“Hey, guys!” Nialls greets, finally joining them, fist bumping Liam and
clapping Louis on the back.
“Hey. Harry here?” Louis asks impatiently, cutting straight to the point. He
knows he asked it too quickly though, because Liam is giving him a funny
look while Niall’s features have morphed into a smirk with a glint in his
eye. Could Niall know Harry’s preference? Harry doesn't strike him as the
type to tell people, but Niall is definitely not at all confused by Louis’
insistence.
“Yup,” Niall answers, rocking on his heels and popping the ‘p’. When Louis
gives him an impatient look, he just points towards the entrance. Louis
looks in the direction Niall’s finger is pointing to find Harry standing
awkwardly, eyes glancing over the room, finally falling on Louis. Harry, of
course, is wearing a pair of ripped skinny jeans and his signature black band
t-shirt that looks like it may actually be older than Harry. In the darkness of
the room, he can’t really make out the logo on the shirt. Louis really needs
to start writing these bands down, wanting to listen to them. Maybe it will
help him gain insight into Harry’s mind. Harry has one large hand shoved in
his pocket, the other clutching a solo cup, probably full of spiked punch.
“He looks nervous,” Liam observes, eyes following Louis’, spotting Harry.
“As a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs,” Niall adds, and what
the fuck does that even mean? Why would a cat be nervous in a room full
of chairs? Is it because it has a long tail? Do cats even get nervous? He
knows they can be curious, but he has never heard anyone refer to them as
nervous. He’ll just add it to the list of ‘weird as fuck’ phrases Niall tends to
say in his presence. He swears he is doing it on purpose. Fuck. Harry has
begun walking towards them, his long limbs almost gliding across the floor.
People in his path part, letting him through while simultaneously gawking.
Harry is like Moses or some shit, parting the crowd like the fucking Red
Sea. Louis tries not to get irritated by the stares Harry is gaining just by
being there, but Louis wants to punch them and tell them all to mind their
own fucking business. Harry is allowed to be wherever he fucking wants to
be, and if they don’t like it they can shove it.
Just as Louis takes a drink from his own cup, Harry is close enough for him
to see that his eyes are lined with black, making the green stand out. His
nails are also freshly painted black, no chip or mark in sight. Louis almost
chokes on his punch, inhaling the liquid as it burns his lungs. Niall laughs
and claps him on the back a few times to help clear his airways, as if he
knows why Louis almost died. Fuck. He might. Did Harry tell him? Oh
God. What if he did? They didn’t really rule out telling their friends, he just
thought it was an unspoken request. Fuck. Niall might know .
“Hey,” Harry greets the group as he comes to a stop beside Louis. He is

looking down, not making eye contact with any of them. Louis thinks that
Liam’s presence may be making him feel anxious mixed with the overall
effect of having everyone in the room stare at him. He wants to reach out
and hold his hand and squeeze, letting him know that it will be okay, but he
can’t. It is so frustrating not being able to openly comfort him, and it makes
Louis want to scream. He never intended for Harry to feel nervous, and if
he had known, he would never have asked him to come. He is suddenly
struck by the realization that whatever they have must mean a lot to Harry
because this is a big step for him. This is forcing Harry out of his comfort
zone completely, and Louis wants to hug him even more. Fuck.
“Hey. It’s good to see you here Harry,” Liam responds, smiling at Harry.
Well Harry isn’t actually looking, so smiling in Harry’s direction. There is
an awkward silence that falls among them, as they all sip their punch and
look out at the dance floor. Harry is becoming increasingly more tense as
the seconds tick by, the loud pop music blaring in the room almost feels
deafening. Louis wants to to sling his arm around him, but can’t. Fuck.
Maybe this was a terrible idea. Maybe Harry’s right, and they are just too
different.
“Mr. Horan, Mr. Payne, Mr. Tomlinson and -- ah, Mr. Styles. Interesting
seeing you here,” Mrs. Marcum, their pre-calculus teacher, says, with her
pointy nose up in the air, as she looks down on Harry through her silver
rimmed glasses.
“Evening Mrs. Marcum,” Niall waves, smiling at her. She ignores him,
taking in Harry’s outfit with a critical eye. It almost makes Louis feel as
though Mark is looking at him, and he hates it.
“Harry. I don’t think that is appropriate apparel for a school dance,” she
says, eyes finally landing on his face, looking appalled by his eyeliner. She
has seen it before, since they all have her class during fourth period, right
before lunch. Perhaps she is just pissed because it is at a school dance,
where everyone went out of their way and spent far too much money to
look nice.
“I don’t think the girls walking around here with their asses showing and
their boobs hanging out while wearing sripper heels is appropriate either, so
I guess we all have our grievances,” Harry responds, not even cracking a
smile. Louis literally has to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. Niall is
smiling into his cup while Liam has the most adorable surprised expression
on his face, as if he can’t believe Harry just spoke to a teacher that way.
Louis thinks it serves her right for being a bitch. Louis has a suspicion that
Harry may not be able to afford nice clothes, but he can’t be sure. Harry
hasn’t really talked about it, but it would explain why all of his clothes
either seem too small or like he got them from a thrift store, however, it
could also just be how he chooses to dress.
“Mr. Styles, do you kiss your mamma with that mouth? She should wash it
out with soap. It would do you well to remember who you are speaking to; I
could kick you out for that,” Mrs. Marcum responds, anger making her tone
sharp, but he didn’t understand half what she just said. Kiss his mamma?
Wash what out with soap? Was she referring to his mouth because that
sounds unhealthy. Soap has a bunch of chemicals that shouldn’t be ingested,
surely a teacher would know that. He holds his breath as he watches Harry
roll his eyes, a rebuttal clearly on the tip of his tongue.
“Mrs. Marcum, I think what Harry means is that people seem to be able to
wear whatever they want to these dances, so he shouldn’t be any different.
He isn’t dressed inappropriately. He may be a little casual, but he isn’t
wearing anything offensive,” Liam chimes in, effectively cutting off Harry’s
most likely biting reply. Harry doesn't bother to mask the surprised
expression on his face at Liam coming to his defense. Louis, on the other
hand, just wants to cheer for Liam because fuck yeah. He knows Liam is a
really fucking good person and has never talked badly about Harry, but it is
still nice for Harry to finally see it. See that maybe the entire school isn’t
against him. That maybe he could have more than one person who cares for
him.
“I’m sure that is what he was trying to say. I will be watching you boys,”
Mrs. Marcum says, pointing at each one of them as she walks off towards
whatever bitch cave she flew out of.
“Jesus, that woman puts the cunt in country,” Niall quips once she is out of
earshot, prompting the other three boys to laugh, even Harry.
“Thank you, for umm-- sticking up for me, Liam,” Harry says quietly, once
the laughter has died down. He is back to looking at his feet, but Louis is so
proud of him for actually being the first to say something to Liam.
“You’re welcome, man. You were right. It’s not fair, and she clearly just
wanted to be a bitch about it,” Liam says, and Harry finally looks up to
meet his eyes giving him a small smile. Another feeling of pride sweeps
through Louis, threatening to crack his rib cage and overflow onto the
dancefloor. He can’t help the fond expression that takes over his features as
he watches Harry and Liam continue their conversation.
__________
“Do you wanna, maybe, find somewhere to hide?” Louis whispers in his
ear, his raspy voice sending chills down his spine. Harry almost chokes on
his drink. He was not expecting that, at all. He sputters and coughs a bit,
trying to catch his breath feeling Louis’ small hand patting and rubbing him
on the back. Louis touches him often, but he still isn’t used to it. He has to
mentally remind himself that he doesn’t need to pull away.
The four boys had made their way to a table, spending the last hour talking
and laughing. Maybe Liam isn’t such a bad guy after all, but Harry still
doesn't trust him. They haven't really talked to each other exclusively, just
keeping it within group conversation. Willow would check in periodically,
probably trying to keep up appearances for the sake of Liam and the other
people in attendance. Harry still hates it, but he could tell that Louis was
keeping their interactions to a minimum, only touching her when he thought
he had to. She had just excused herself, again, disappearing with her friends
onto the dance floor.
“What?” Harry chokes out, making sure he heard the other boy correctly.
“Do you wanna disappear for a little bit?” Louis asks again, blue eyes
gleaming in the low light, his straight white teeth showing with his easy
smile. Fuck. Does he know how pretty he is? Harry feels it when Louis
places his hand on his knee, the warmth seeping into his skin. He doesn't
move his knee and gives himself a mental pat on the back for not even
flinching. Once he gets used to it, the touch makes him stomach do a little
flip, warmness pooling in the pit.
“Um-- sure-- yes-- but um-- how?” Harry stumbles out, his cheeks heating
in embarrassment from his stuttering. He needs to get a fucking grip around
Louis. He is usually perfectly fine at never showing any type of emotion at
all, but Louis does something to him. Makes him let his guard down, and he
doesn’t like it.
“Meet me in the hallway by chemistry in five,” Louis whispers, glancing to

make sure Liam and Niall are still engrossed in their conversation. They
are.
“Won’t someone find us?” Harry asks.
“No one will be there, trust me,” Louis responds, winking and fuck. Harry
trusts him. How could he let this happen? He does though. Somewhat.
“I am going to go dance with Willow like she has been begging me all
night,” Louis says then, standing up and smiling at Harry.
“Alright, man, see you around,” Liam responds, while Niall just waves.
Harry watches with an amused expression as Louis disappears into the
crowd, hips swaying as walks. Holy fuck. It should be illegal for Louis to
wear dress pants and suspenders. Seriously. He almost gave Harry a heart
attack with that outfit when he had first arrived. The suspenders act like
arrows, pointing down to the prize which is the dark red trousers that cling
to his shapely legs and plump ass like a second skin.
Harry tries to pay attention to the conversation between his... friends? Well,
he isn't one hundred percent sure they are his friends. Niall is, but Liam is
questionable still. That just seems like the best word to use to describe the
two men he is currently sitting at the table with. His cock is already
stiffening with the idea of being alone with Louis again. He tells it to calm
down and cut that shit out because they will probably just kiss or something
equally innocent. He looks at his watch for the fifth time and realizes that it
has been exactly three minutes. It will take at least a minute to get to the
designated hallway, not even factoring in excusing himself from the table
and all of that. Well, that is at least what he tells himself as he stands.
“I have to go to the bathroom, excuse me,” Harry tells them watching as a

grin blooms across Niall’s face. The bastard. He has probably figured it out.
Liam looks suspicious for .5 seconds before he shrugs, waving to Harry.
“Alright. Have fun,” Niall says with a wink. Harry almost flips him off but
doesn’t want to seem suspicious in front of Liam, so he refrains. So he just
rolls his eyes, waves at Liam, and makes his way through the crowd. Most
of the people around him don’t stop and stare at him this time, thank fuck.
He just wants to sneak out in peace. He looks around for any teachers,
finding it clear, then sneaks through the door quietly. As soon as the door
shuts behind him, he is met with a deafening silence. He closes his eyes for
a moment, leaning against the door and taking a deep breath, letting the
stillness wash over him. He can still hear the dull thump of the dance
through the doors behind him, but after so long being in a loud
environment, it is nice to just relax for a minute. He has been out of his
comfort zone all night, so taking a minute just to relax and breathe is
exactly what he needs.
After a few more deep breaths, he straightens himself back up and begins
walking down the empty hallways of the school. Harry is used to them
being filled with light, voices, and footsteps, but they are dark and eerie in
the late night hours. His own footsteps echo down the corridor as he makes
a right, then a left, trying to quickly and quietly get to his destination. When
he rounds the last corner, he is confused to see that Louis isn’t there. His
heart drops, thinking that Louis has changed his mind and didn’t want to
show. Maybe he will find a note or something that says he doesn't want to
do this anymore. He slowly walks down the hallway, looking around for
Louis. He almost screams when he feels small hands grab him and shove
him into the corner where the wall meets the lockers.
“You have got to stop doing that,” Harry breaths out, panting as he looks
down at the smiling face of Louis. The light in this particular hallway is
dim, but not so much so that Harry can’t see the crinkles by Louis’ eyes. He
can still see the way Louis’ chest is rising and falling with his breaths, a
small giggle escaping him at Harry’s words.
“Why? It’s so much fun,” Louis pouts, his bottom lip pulling down with it.
It doesn’t last long though, because a few seconds later he is smiling again.
Harry wants to die. How could someone so pretty and happy want to be
with him? He is so weird and moody. It is ridiculous really. Louis is like the
sun and Harry, well Harry isn’t sure what he is, but he is definitely not the
sun. Maybe the moon? Harry doesn't have time to consider it because Louis
wedges himself between Harry’s legs then and gets up on his tiptoes to kiss
him. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” Louis mummers against
Harry’s lips.
“Did I tell you that you look amazing tonight?” Harry asks, and he has no
fucking clue where that came from. He would have never thought, in a
million years, he’d say something like that, but things fucking change he
supposes. They sure have changed quite a bit in the past three days. He
hopes he doesn’t sound like a total fucking nerd with the compliment, but
it’s true. Louis does look amazing.
“You did not, but thank you. You look beautiful tonight as well,” Louis tells
him, blue eyes roaming over his face in the dim light. Harry thinks he is
lying, but he isn’t doing any of his normal tells to show he is doing so, like
using the words ‘obviously’ and ‘literally’ while emphasizing them. He
actually looks genuine with the remark.
“I look the same as I look every day,” Harry counters, glancing down at his
outfit. He would have bought something fancy, but that requires actual
money that he doesn’t have yet. He is going to get his first paycheck soon,
though he doubts he will spend it on clothes. He isn’t sure he actually cares.
He does care what Louis thinks, for whatever reason, but he doesn't care
what he looks like to everyone else.
“You put a fresh coat of paint on your nails, and you wore eyeliner. You are
also wearing an extra ring on your left pinky. While you do wear eyeliner,
on occasion, to school, you never care if it is put on with a steady hand.
This time, it’s clear that you took your time, so no, you don’t look exactly
the same.” Harry doesn’t bother to mask the shock on his face, his mouth
forming a small ‘o’. What the fuck? Louis notices that stuff about him?
Nobody else has. He doesn’t even know if his own mother knows he came
to the dance tonight. She had to work, so probably not. Niall doesn’t notice
shit like that and others were too busy staring at his arrival at the dance to
bother taking in his actual appearance. A warmness spreads in his chest
when he comes to the conclusion that someone may actually pay attention
to him. Louis pays attention to him.
He doesn’t say anything, just grabs Louis’ suspenders, because honestly he

has been wanting to do that all fucking night, pulling the other man towards
him and kisses him again. Louis’ small hands immediately come around
Harry’s neck, tangling in his dark curls. This kiss isn’t quick and innocent
like the others have been. This one is intense and heated, making Harry’s
cock stiffen in his jeans. He moans when he feels Louis’ own erection
against his, rubbing through the fabric, and it feels so fucking good.
“Fuck, Harry.” Louis voice is high and needy, not quite a whine but not a
whimper either. He trails kisses down Harry’s jaw, biting and nipping the
skin there. Harry’s eyes roll into the back of his head when Louis kisses,
then bites and finally sucks on the spot where this jaw meets his ear
because, holy shit. Harry is embarrassed when a moan escapes from deep
within his chest, but it seems to urge Louis on. He grinds his hard cock
against Harry’s, releasing a high raspy sound into the spot he has claimed as
his own on Harry’s neck.
“You feel so good,” Louis says in his ear, grinding harder. Harry feels the
coil in the pit of his stomach tighten with the words. Fuck. He is getting
close, but he is literally stuck between a rock and a hard place. His back is
pressed against the locker and the wall, Louis pinning him in. He couldn’t
pull away even if he tried, and he isn’t sure he wants to because it feels so
good he may faint. Louis’s lips are back on his, swallowing his next moan.
Without thinking, Harry releases Louis’ suspender straps. He had no idea he

was even still holding them, to be honest. Before he can second guess
himself, he places his hands on Louis’s lower back, pulling the other man
impossibly closer. Louis continues the slow grind of his hips as he kisses
him, wet and sloppy, tongues delving deep. This all feels like too much but
not enough. His entire body feels like it is on fire, and Louis gripping his
hair tightly isn’t helping matters. Each nerve ending is shooting off in
different directions, but all finding their way back to his hard cock.
Harry’s hands are subconsciously working their way towards Louis’ round
ass. He has been dreaming about that ass for far too long, so who could
blame them. He will call them traitorous later, but right now they have a
mind of their own. When they finally come to rest on Louis’ ass, Louis
moans into Harry’s mouth prompting him to squeeze the firm muscles.
Louis seems to like that because he grinds harder, his movements becoming
quicker. Holy fucking shit. Harry has never felt this good in his entire life.
His hand would never compare to Louis fucking Tomlinson grinding their
cocks together through the fabric of their pants while kissing the life from
him. He knows it’s pathetic, but it’s the truth. Harry doesn't know how he
will ever go back to his hand after tonight.
“Oh God,” Louis moans when Harry squeezes his ass firmly. Harry would
usually have some sort of ‘no God here or anywhere’ remark, but he can’t
fucking think when his balls feel like they may explode any second now,
while Louis’ tongue is massaging his own. Harry begins grinding back, just
needing to come. He is so close; he is out of his mind with need. He just
needs to come, and Louis grinding on him quickly now is exactly the
friction he needs. He calls out Louis’ name as he comes in his own jeans,
squeezing Louis’ ass so hard he is probably going to leave bruises.
Louis breaks their kiss, eyes wide, mouth open, looking down in surprise.
Fuck. Shit. What the fuck just happened? Harry creamed his jeans like a
horny fourteen year old, that’s what fucking happened. Harry can feel his
cheeks and chest burning with the realization. Louis must think he is a
stupid fucking virgin. Fuck. He is a stupid virgin, isn’t he? He didn’t want
Louis to know that, but now he must. Harry doesn’t look Louis in the eye as
he pushes him away, looking down at his come stained pants for a few
seconds. Letting the shame sink in even more. Jesus the first real makeout
session with a boy, and Harry fucking comes in his pants. He is so stupid.
He hates himself.
He doesn’t say a word to Louis, ignoring his calls and runs down the dimly
lit hallway and into the darkness of the next one. He quickly locates an exit
that won’t sound an alarm, breathing in the fresh air as he pushes through
the thankfully unlocked doors roughly. He blinks back tears, as he continues
to run in the direction of home. All he can hear is the echo of his boots and
the blood rushing to his ears. The air feels cold on Harry’s too warm face,
helping him cool down a bit and dry the tears in his eyes as they form. He
tries to breathe as deeply as he can as he runs, but it’s difficult. All he wants
to do is collapse on the dirty ground and cry. He can’t. He needs to make it
home, to his bed, before he lets the panic take over him. His breaths are
coming out in short huffs. He doesn't know if he will make it, but he has to
try. He doesn't even want to consider the embarrassment he would suffer if
someone from school found him mid panic attack on a dirty sidewalk in
town.
__________
Louis runs after Harry’s retreating figure, following him out of the school.
He thinks he loses him to the night when he exits, but spots a glimpse of
him going around the corner. He quickly follows him. Harry doesn't run that
fast, and, even in Louis dress clothes, he knows he will catch up with him
sooner rather than later. He has no idea where Harry is going, he just
follows blindly as he continues to beat himself up over his reaction. He was
just surprised. That’s all. He wasn’t expecting Harry to come. He didn’t
mean to make Harry think he was upset with him in any way. He was just
so fucking surprised. In fact, a feeling of pride swept through him right
after, being able to get Harry off just by kissing and grinding, did something
to his ego. Of course, Harry didn’t see that. His cheeks had already began
turning a bright shade of red, his large hand going to cover the wet spot on
his crotch. He didn’t even say anything to Louis or look him in the eye, he
just fled.
Harry looks like he is struggling to breathe ahead of him, hand going up to

cover his chest, judging by the angle. Louis is barely breathing hard as he
begins to catch up, just a few steps behind Harry now. Louis takes his
opportunity when Harry turns to walk into a driveway. He grabs Harry’s
elbow, spinning him around. “Harry, please don’t run from me. Please,”
Louis begs, suddenly feeling like he and Harry are back to square one. He
certainly hopes not, because that would suck major ass, but Harry isn’t
making eye contact much like the first day. Harry ignores him and tries to
turn around again, but Louis stops him with another firm hand on his elbow.
“Let go,” Harry says, rubbing his chest with his other hand. He is blinking a
lot, biting his lip, and Louis thinks he may actually be holding back tears.
Louis hates himself for making Harry feel this way. It was never his
intention. He just. He was just so surprised. He, himself, was about two
minutes away from coming in his own pants, if he is honest, but Harry
apparently didn’t see it that way.
“Not until you talk to me,” Louis responds, tightening his grip even more
when Harry tries to pull free. Harry is breathing hard, probably from the
sprint. His green eyes are cast down and his curls are disheveled. His pale
skin almost glows in the moonlight, making him seem ethereal. Louis just
wants to reach out and touch his face, pull his lip out from between his
teeth, but he doesn't. He is afraid one wrong move will scare him even
more.
“What is there to talk about? I fucking came in my pants. You happy?

Wanna make fun of me? Remind me of how I am a virgin who, up until two
days ago, had never kissed anyone, let alone had someone grind against
me?” Harry accuses, his tone raw, voice cracking on the last two words. At
first, Louis was angry at yet another accusal, but his heart breaks when he
comprehends what Harry has just admitted to him. Harry must have just
realized it too, because his eyes get as wide as saucers, his cheeks turning
and even deeper shade of red if possible. Harry is a virgin? Holy shit. Louis
had no idea. He thought that maybe he was inexperienced, but never
imagined that hot as fuck Harry Styles would be a virgin at seventeen. Just
like that, another piece of the puzzle known as Harold has fallen into place.
“Oh love, no. It’s not like that,” Louis insists, trying to keep his eyes kind
and his tone earnest. Anything to make Harry understand. Louis takes his
fingers and uses them to lift Harry’s chin up. Harry’s eyes are still mostly
downcast, but he glances up at Louis making eye contact for a split second.
That is all Louis needs to keep going. “I was just surprised that’s all.”
“I just-- I can’t Louis,” Harry starts, but Louis is quick to cut off that
sentence.
“Can’t what? Harry, I need you to listen very carefully. You ran off before
you could see the look of pride on my face. You have any idea how fucking
hot it is to know that I made you come in your pants? That you got so
turned on by what we were doing, you came? Fuck. I almost came just
knowing I made you so turned on. In fact, I will probably go home tonight
and get off to the mere thought of it. Holy fuck, Harry, don’t you understand
what a compliment that is?” Louis asks, and at some point during his
speech, Harry finally met his eyes. He is looking at Louis as if trying to
decide if Louis is telling the truth. Louis most certainly fucking is.
“I feel like an idiot,” Harry mumbles after a few excruciating minutes of

silence. His eyes are shining in the moonlight with unshed tears, and Louis’
heart breaks a tiny bit more for him. Harry takes a deep breath, looking up
at the sky and blinking a few times. Louis bets Harry looks beautiful when
he cries. He looks beautiful doing everything else, including, but not limited
to breathing, sitting still, and sucking a goddamned straw.
“You’re not an idiot, love. It’s actually normal. The first time I did
something like that, I also came in my pants. They guy was a total asshole
about it, though. He made me feel like shit for it, and that wasn’t fair. I
think it’s a compliment,” Louis tells him, thinking back to the time he snuck
out of his house on New Year’s Eve when he was sixteen. He ended up
getting drunk and dry humping this random dude that he doesn't even
remember the name of until he came.
“I’m sorry he was an asshole about it,” Harry responds, finally meeting
Louis’ gaze and keeping it. Harry does seem genuinely sorry, but Louis just
shrugs. It really isn’t that big of a deal now, but Louis promised himself that
he would never ever make someone feel bad for coming.
“Are you okay?” Louis asks, placing his hand on Harry’s chest, feeling his
heart beat erratically beneath his fingers.
“Yeah. ‘M fine,” Harry answers, but Louis isn’t entirely sure he believes
him. Louis’ gaze begins to take in his surroundings finally. Harry has lead
them to a part of town Louis didn’t know existed. Behind Harry is a small
and very run down house. The white paint is dingy, chipping off in several
places. One of the dark shutters is broken, the other is crooked. The
windows look grimy, spider webs woven through the dirty white banister.
“Harry is this your house?” Louis asks before he can think better of it.
Fuck. He feels Harry stiffen below his hand, his heart rate picking back up.
The look on his face has gone back to panic. Louis is just a major fuck up
tonight. That’s the only explanation for any of this. Louis shouldn’t be
allowed to talk anymore. Talking gets him into trouble and makes him say
things to cute boys that could be taken the wrong way. So stop talking? That
should be easy, right? It’s not like he ever says anything important.
“Um-- yeah,” Harry responds, voice barely above a whisper. His body has
turned back in on itself, feet pigeon toed, gaze firmly planted on them. “I
know it’s just a glorified shack and probably not nearly as nice as yours,
but-- yeah this is where I live. You probably have already gathered that I am
poor. I guess you were gonna find out about the shit hole I call home at
some point.” Harry laughs humorously.
“Love, I don’t give a fuck what your house looks like, or if you’re poor.
None of that matters to me,” Louis tells him, taking his large hand in his
own. The rings are cool on his skin, but Harry’s hand is warm.
“Fuck this whole night has been a disaster,” Harry says, cheeks red with his
embarrassment. Louis thinks he has seen Harry show more emotion tonight
than he has in the last two months combined. He would be happy, if the
emotions weren’t shame and embarrassment.
“I wouldn’t say that,” Louis says, smiling a bit. It hasn’t been a total
disaster. He got to make out with Harry. He got him off, and has plenty of
wanking material for later. He knows way more about Harry now than he
ever thought he would. He feels… closer to him somehow. “I think this
night has been perfect, full of doing things we shouldn’t do and having
secret little rendezvous.”
“You need to stop studying all of those stupid vocabulary words Mrs. Perry
keeps assigning as SAT prep.” Harry laughs, the sound deep and musical.
“Probably,” Louis says, returning Harry’s smile and getting on his tiptoes to
kiss Harry on the lips.
“I’m sorry I flipped out,” Harry sighs, Louis feeling the hot breath on his
lips. Louis doesn’t want him to apologize. There is no need for it really. He
shouldn’t be sorry for anything.
“No need to apologize, love. I don’t mind as long as you keep the things I
said in mind for next time.”
“Next time?” Harry asks, as if he can’t believe Louis would still want to
continue this. Louis wishes he could smack some sense into him, but he
knows he needs to keep proving himself to make Harry understand.
“Of course,” Louis answers, glancing down at his watch and sighing when
it reads 10:30. He feels a slight panic in his chest at the idea of being late
for curfew. His parents never let him do anything, so being late this one
time is sure to mean he won’t be allowed to do anything ever again. “I’m
sorry, Harry, but I have to go. My parents are expecting me home at 11, and
I don’t want to know what will happen to me if I am even a minute late. I
still have to drop Willow off.”
“It’s fine, Lou. I understand,” Harry says, giving him a small smile, and that
is really all Louis could ask for. Louis hates doing this. Hates leaving him
when he feels like he has cracked through another wall. He may have many
more to go, but the moment seems fragile somehow. As if, as soon as Louis
turns his back, Harry will put cement over the cracks, and pretend they
never happened. He supposes if he wants Harry to trust him, he is going to
have to trust Harry, too. Trust that their blossoming relationship won't be a
continuous cha cha of one step forward and two steps back.
“Gimme your number,” Louis says then, the idea popping into his head
suddenly. He doesn’t want another week like the one before. Wanting to
speak to Harry but having no way of contacting him. Having his number
would at least give him another avenue of communication. Sure, Harry
could ignore him, but he also knows where he lives as well. He then pulls
out his phone and hands it to Harry. Harry does as asked, using too large
thumbs to type in his number, then sends a quick text to himself so that he
has Louis’.
“Text me, if you want,” Harry adds the last part, as if he isn’t sure Louis
really wants to text him. If it takes forever, Louis will get him to learn that
he does want to text him, and talk to him, and kiss him, and do all sorts of
other things with him.
“Of course, love. Alright, I better get going, bye,” Louis says, kissing Harry
softly on the lips with the word. “Oh and by the way, I love the flowers.”
Louis gestures at the flowers planted in the bed alongside the chipped
painted siding. He catches Harry blush the prettiest shade of pink before he
turns on his heels and begins to run off, smiling from ear to ear.
Chapter End Notes
Bring me to Life
Chapter Summary
Louis and Harry both take baby steps in the right direction
Chapter Notes
For those interested, here is some more information about the Origins
of Halloween.
How can you see into my eyes like open doors
Leading you down into my core
Where I've become so numb. Without a soul
My spirit sleeping somewhere cold
Until you find it there and lead it back home- Evanescence

“Two words. Hallo. Ween.” Niall counts off the ‘words’ on his fingers,
holding them up in the air triumphantly with a glint in his eyes as he comes
to sit down between Harry and Liam in Choir. Louis had snuck over to take
the seat in front of Harry, turning around to talk to him and Liam as Niall
made his grand entrance.
“Pretty sure that is one word, Ni,” Louis quips, and Harry tries to cover his
smile. He knows it doesn't work because Louis smirks in his direction.
Asshole. Harry used to pride himself on covering his emotions, especially
smiles, but Louis seems to always bring them out of him, albeit
begrudgingly.
“What about it?” Harry asks. He, truly, loves Halloween. It may be his
absolute favorite day of the year, but he never says that outloud. It’s not like
he ever gets invited to Halloween parties or anything. He usually spends the
evening watching scary movies.
“There’s a party. Josh Devine’s annual Halloween Extravaganza to be

exact,” Niall tells the small group, wide smile spreading on his face, braces
gleaming in the light. Niall always seems to make even the smallest, most
trivial thing seem to be the most important thing a person will ever hear in
his life.
“No,” Harry says, when all eyes come to land on him. They know he is the
one that will take the most convincing, rightfully so because Harry doesn’t
do parties with the popular kids. Last time he had even attempted that it
was… well… Harry won’t go there. The point is. He won’t.
“Come on, Haz,” Louis pouts, lower lip coming out, eyes big and round, as
he clutches the back of the chair. Harry stands firm.
“No, I am not going to Josh’s Halloween Party. I am probably not really

invited anyways,” Harry says, crossing his arms, attempting not to make
eye contact with Louis, pleading look still on his face.
“Everyone in class is invited,” Liam says. What? Since when did Liam
actually talk to Harry. Oh yeah, the fucking dance. Liam stood up for him,
and Harry decided that maybe he isn’t so bad. He has changed his mind.
Liam can fuck right off if he thinks Harry is invited. He’s not. When they
say ‘everyone in the senior class’ they really mean ‘everyone in the senior
class who isn’t Harry Styles’.
“Yeah. Haz. Everyone. I talked to him myself just now. He didn’t say a
damn thing about not inviting you, and he knows we’re friends.” Niall
places two hands together in a praying gesture. Niall should know that
praying will not work on Harry. It usually has the opposite effect.
“You all can go and have fun without me,” Harry responds.
“Maybe we don’t wanna go without you,” Liam shrugs, his brown eyes
wide sporting a similar look to Niall. Fuck. How did Harry go from
rejecting one person to three? He guesses those are just the powers of Louis
Tomlinson.
“Yeah. We don’t. Come on, Hazza, we can all dress in costumes and get
drunk. It’ll be fun. Please?” The tone in Louis’ voice makes Harry finally
look at him while shaking his head. Louis still has a pleading look on his
face, his pink lips still forming the cutest pout Harry has ever seen that
reminds him very much of Daisy that day at the park. His eyes are wide,
and he is batting his long eyelashes. Fuck. Okay. Maybe he will. Stupid
Louis and his ridiculously blue eyes and stupidly adorable face. How the
fuck is Harry supposed to say no, when Louis looks at him like that? No
one could, really. Harry isn’t being weak if he agrees to go. He is just
agreeing to the inevitable at this point because everyone and their fucking
mother knows that Louis will wear him down. He will continue to bat those
obscenely long eyelashes at him and use those firm, soft lips to weasel his
way in, and convince Harry that going to the party of a popular kid is a
grand fucking plan.
“Fine,” Harry says, now it’s his turn to pout while the other three boys
cheer in victory, Liam even joining in and throwing his fist in the air. Wait.
Are him and Liam friends now? When did that happen? No. That cannot
happen. Harry is just going to bury that thought away with all of the others.
“Wait, Louis, your parents are super strict aren’t they? How will you go?”
Liam asks, peering at Louis with curious brown eyes. Yeah. Harry does
remember Louis saying on multiple occasions that his parents are
overprotective. Harry’s eyes snap up to Louis, curious of his answer too.
“I’ve been sneaking out since I was fifteen. I think I’ll be good,” Louis
responds, smug expression firmly in place. Harry thought Louis was a good
little christian boy, but it turns out that may not be the case at all.
Interesting. He figured that Louis wasn’t a virgin or anything, like himself,
but he also didn’t picture him to be the type to disobey his parents. He did
kiss a boy though, so he must have a rebellious nature in him somewhere.
“Wanna go with me to pick out a costume after school?” Niall asks, looking
at Harry. They all glance towards the front of the class when Mr. Tennent
begins working with the sopranos on their part of the the Holiday Concert.
“I can’t. I got paid today, finally, and I am going to buy groceries since we
really need them,” Harry says, realizing too late that he has said far too
much. Fuck. What the actual fuck was he thinking? He knows better. He
needs to stop letting his guard down around Louis. Maybe not Louis so
much anymore, but definitely Liam. A silence falls on the group, as Harry’s
words sink in.
“I’ll go with you, man,” Liam says to Niall, after a few minutes. Harry lets
out a sigh of relief, glad that no one commented on his slip. Stupid fucking
slip up. He can feel his cheeks heating up at the thought of it, and begins
tapping his forehead with two firm fingers, as punishment, his eyes closed.
Fuck. Why is he so fucking stupid?
“Stop that.” He hears Louis’ raspy voice break into his self deprecating
thoughts, barely above a whisper. He feels it when cool fingers wrap around
his wrist, pulling his hand away from his head. He doesn't even try to
protest, but he does bring his other hand to cover his now red face. He feels
like such a fucking moron. Why did he say something like that? Now they
know . Everyone in the school knows that Harry’s family is poor, but he
never actually told anyone how poor, except for Niall. Niall is always the
exception, and now Louis, and fucking Liam by association. Fuck.
“Babe, stop it.” Again, Louis’ other hand comes to wrap around Harry’s
wrist, bringing both hands away from his face, stopping his own form of
punishment. Harry still doesn’t look up, not wanting to meet Louis’ eyes.
He hates that he lets his self confidence do this to him. He is usually better
at faking it. Louis just... He makes him feel raw somehow. Not in a bad
way. Just in a way that makes him want to open up and bare his soul, but he
won’t. That would be bad. Just because a boy kissed him doesn’t mean
Harry has to trust him or owes him anything.
“Look at me,” Louis says, voice soft. He can hear Liam and Niall
discussing where they are going to go for their Halloween costumes, so they
must not be paying any attention to their other two friends. Harry has a
feeling that Niall is, but he is also working to distract Laim. What a good
fucking friend.
Harry finally looks up when he feels Louis’ thumb stroking his wrist below
the hem of his sleeve. He quickly pulls his hand away, not wanting Louis to
feel any of his scars. Fuck. This morning is just shaping up to be fucking
great. Brilliant really. Louis’ blue eyes are soft with concern, but almost
studying him. Harry wants to look back down again, but doesn’t.
“Do you guys, like, not have any food?” Louis asks after a minute or so of
just staring into each other’s eyes. Louis looks sad by the realization, the
pity coating his features. Harry hates pity.
“Can we not do this right now?” Harry asks. When Louis looks
disheartened by his words, Harry finds himself sighing and continuing. “I
will tell you later, just not right now.” Harry glances around at his
classmates, none of them really showing the least bit of interest in their
conversation, but he doesn’t want to take any chances.
“Okay. Later,” Louis says with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“I’m surprised you celebrate Halloween, with it supposedly being the

devil’s holiday and all of that shit,” Harry jokes in an attempt to change the
subject.
Louis looks at him curiously for a few seconds before he gets the look on
his face that Harry has come to know very well. Louis is about to ask a
question about religion. Harry eagerly leans forwards, barely suppressing
the urge to rub his hands together in glee. He secretly loves it when Louis
asks him questions. He rarely gets to use his vast knowledge of religion on
the yocals, so it is a nice change of pace. Louis seems genuinely interested
in what Harry has to say about it. He doesn’t always automatically call
Harry a Satan worshiper like many others would. No. Instead he tries to
argue back, then eventually concedes when Harry wins. Harry always wins.
Since when did Harry become so fucking competitive? Louis must be
rubbing off on him in more than one way. His cock twitches at the thought
of what had occurred Saturday night, long gone are the feelings of
embarrassment over the situation.
“Is it? Like the devil’s holiday, I mean. That’s what Mark always says, but
my mom seems to think that there is nothing wrong with it.” Harry leans
forward, closer to Louis as he asks the question, placing his elbows on his
knees, clasping his hands between them. He isn’t really surprised by the
question. He is actually kind of proud of Louis for phrasing it the way he
did. Instead of it being accusatory or unbelieving, it was curious. Also,
points to Louis’ mom for being somewhat sane.
“Not at all. Most of the Halloween traditions come from the Celts, who
were Pagan, and their celebration of Samhain,” Harry tells him, smirking,
and waiting for the next question. He likes to make Louis ask questions,
instead of just giving him all the information at once. It helps him figure out
how Louis is actually processing the information, and what he finds
interesting.
“So, Samhain is just like Halloween?” Louis asks, brows furrowed in the
cutest possible way. Fuck. Why is he so cute?
“Well, the Celts believed it was a time of year when the veil between the
spiritual world and our world was lifted, allowing the spirits to haunt, so
they would appease these spirits by giving them treats,” Harry informed,
watching as Louis processes the information. His small hands are still
clasping the seat in front of him, his body leaning closer to Harry’s as the
words slip from his mouth.
“You said most. What are the others?” He finally asks, probably wondering
if there was any mention of the devil.
“It has some elements of the ancient Roman celebration of Pomona which
was a harvest feast. Bobbing for apples, for example, was a part of the
celebration.” Louis nods his head as if he knows what Harry is talking
about.
“So, how did Christianity get involved? Like why do so many think it is the
Devil’s holiday?” Harry smiles at the question, expecting it. Sometimes
when they have these conversations, he feels like he is playing chess.
Attempting to get Louis to ask the right questions, and this time feels no
different.
“Well, Christians did what they always do. They were having trouble
forcing the Pagan Celts into believing in their religion and their one God.
The Celts liked to party and have a good time, which Christianity didn’t
allow for. They didn’t see the point in converting to a religion where there
was no celebrations to be had, so they resisted. Christians decided to then
adopt some of their traditions into their own, as a way to almost con them
into converting. They would say ‘look, we do the same thing, but our God
is better,’ not to mention killing anyone who resisted too much. It just so
happened that November 1st is All Saints day, so they made Samhain into
All Hallow’s Eve.” Harry watches Louis’ face as he gives him the
information, almost seeing the cogs in his head turn processing everything.
Harry almost starts telling him about how all christian holidays are stolen
from other religions celebrations, but he decides to save that conversation
for a different day. Baby steps.
“But none of that mentions the Devil or Satan or anything. Why do people
think it is his holiday?” Louis asks, brows drawn in confusion again.
“Well, no one knows for sure, but it is most likely because we kept so many
of the original traditions of Samhain. Roman Catholics believed that anyone
who followed the Pagan religions, were a part of the occult and therefore
worshiped the Devil among their other deities. They just couldn’t wrap their
heads around worshiping other gods, therefore anyone that did was placed
into the category of Devil Worshipper. It honestly doesn’t make sense, but
very little in religion actually does.” Harry shrugs his shoulders, watching
to see if Louis reacts to his last comment. Louis doesn’t, his gaze
technically on Harry, but it is going through him in thought. Harry knows
Louis has another question. He can tell by the crease between his brows,
and how his bottom lip is protruding ever so slightly.
“Can I take you grocery shopping after school?” Louis ask finally, and
Harry can’t stop the the look of shock that takes over his face. He was not
expecting that.
__________
“You said your parents are really strict, how are you not going to get into
trouble?” Harry asks walking with Louis through the halls and towards the
parking lot of the school after the last bell has rung.
“The football coach cancelled practice today as a ‘good job on the

homecoming win’. I didn’t tell my parents, figuring I could just hang out
with Liam or something without them knowing.” Louis shrugs barely
resisting the urge to reach for Harry’s hand as they walk through the school.
“Oh. Um-- if you’d rather hang out with Liam, then you can. You don’t
have to change plans for me or anything,” Harry stumbles out. Louis looks
around, then pulls Harry into the back stairway where they had their first
kiss.
“Stop that,” he says as soon as they are in the quiet of the stairwell, away
from prying eyes. A lot of the student’s avoid it, rumors of it being haunted
by a dead cheerleader or some shit making people think it’s creepy. When
Louis heard the story from Niall today, he thought it was bullshit, but it at
least allowed he and Harry some privacy, therefore Louis is thankful to the
fake dead cheerleader that haunts the stairwell. Fucking Halloween.
“Stop what?” Harry asks, but Louis can tell he knows exactly what.
“Stop acting like I would rather be with someone other than you. I honestly
figured you would be working, so that’s why I didn’t ask you. I didn’t even
think about the fact that Willow is working, so that means you are probably
off. Anyways, that’s not the point. I want to hang out with you,” Louis tells
him, with as much honesty in his tone as possible. He can tell by the look
on Harry’s face he doesn't quite believe him, but he doesn't argue.
“Won’t someone see you hanging out with me and tell your parents?” Harry
asks after a few moments.
“I’m not too worried about it, plus I brought this.” Louis then pulls a
maroon beanie out from his pocket. Harry looks at it skeptically, watching
as Louis puts it on. “Plus, if anyone says anything to them, I’ll just lie like I
always do.”
“Okay. Whatever you say,” Harry says, rolling his eyes.
“I like the sound of that. May as well tack on a ‘dear’ to the end of the
sentence,” Louis replies, smirking while Harry rolls his eyes.
“I’m just saying, I can do this by myself. I know it isn’t the best way to
spend your day off.” Louis wants to smack him, but instead, decides to do
what he always does when Harry is doubting him. Proving it to him with
logic and actions.
“You don’t have a car, and you live at least ten blocks from the nearest
grocery store. Let me do this babe.” When Harry looks down at him, he
takes that as an opportunity to kiss him, knowing they are alone in the
stairwell. The kiss is short and chaste, mostly to let Harry know that he is
being sincere in his efforts.
“Fine,” Harry relents when Louis is back on his feet.
“Good, let’s go,” Louis says, wrapping his fingers around Harry’s forearm
briefly as they begin walking towards the parking lot. When they get into
the car, Louis tells Harry he can listen to whatever music he wants, and
gives him his phone which is already connected to the bluetooth in the car.
He doesn’t think he has anything on his spotify that Harry would actually
listen to, since his parents monitor his spotify listening activity and only
allow him to listen to country, bluegrass and gospel, so Harry will probably
have to search for it. Before he even pulls out of the parking lot, the car is
filled with a heavy guitar and drum rhythm. Louis finds he doesn't hate it,
per se. It is just different than his normal kind of music. Harry doesn’t sing
along or move much at all as they make their way towards the grocery
store. Louis can feel the tension coming off of him in waves.
“Alright, what do you need?” Louis asks once they get into the grocery
store and find a cart, well the people in the area call it a ‘buggy’ even
though Louis has no fucking clue why. It isn’t pulled by a horse or a mule.
A buggy is what Amish people use as a form of transportation, not
something you put food in at the grocery store.
Louis watches with amused eyes as Harry pulls out a list, his mostly capital
letter handwriting scrawled down the page. Louis didn’t take Harry for the
type of person to create a list for grocery shopping, but he guesses he learns
something new every day. Today it is that Halloween is based on Pagan
traditions, mostly from a celebration called Samhain, and Harry Styles
makes lists. Louis thinks the latter is more interesting, but he is probably the
only person. It’s just that the boy is full of surprises, and Louis thinks he
hasn’t even scratched the surface of Harry’s personality or secrets, which
reminds Louis.
“Why do you need to go grocery shopping with your own money? Like
what about your mom?” Louis asks the question as delicately as he can as
they make their way over to the produce section. He tries to phrase it in a
way where it doesn't sound like he is pitying the other boy. He has come to
learn that Harry doesn’t much care for pity, so he has been trying to stay
away from that route. He can feel Harry stiffen beside him, the tension
returning to his body tenfold. Louis wants to reach out and rub his back, but
refrains, knowing that would draw far too much attention. He is already
playing with fire as it is.
“Um--” Louis thinks Harry is about to lie to him, so he gives Harry a

pointed look. Harry sighs after a few moments. “She is a single mom and
works two shitty jobs just to pay the bills and rent as it is. We don’t always
have enough food between her paychecks.” Louis was kind of expecting
that answer, but that doesn’t make it any easier to hear. Fuck. How many
times has Harry been hungry around him? How many times did he come to
school not knowing if he was going to eat when he got home? The thought
shoots a pang through Louis’ chest, threatening to stop his heart. He tries to
keep his facial expression neutral, knowing that if Harry thought he even
felt a little sorry for him, he would never share anything about himself ever
again. Louis can’t have that. He just, he suddenly has this fierce need to
protect Harry. Louis, himself, has never known what it was like to be
hungry. He always had food provided for him by Mark and his Mom. He
can’t imagine what Harry goes through at least twice a month. How is that
even fair? No one deserves to be hungry.
“She must really appreciate you helping her out then,” Louis says carefully,
feeling as though he is stepping on thin ice, one wrong move will sink him.
“She doesn't really know I’m doing this. We don’t talk much,” Harry says,
looking at avocados. Louis scrunches his nose at the chosen item, but lets
the information roll around his head.
“Is that because she works so much?” Louis asks, trying to pry into Harry’s
relationship with his mom while not outright asking about it. He is also
curious about Harry’s father, but he isn’t even going to begin to broach that
topic. Delicate balance it seems.
“Somewhat,” Harry answers, throwing a few of the disgusting green things

into a bag and placing it into the cart. He knows he isn’t going to get
anything else out of Harry about the subject right now, so he decides to
change it.
“What are you going to be for Halloween?” Louis asks after a few
moments, watching as Harry looks over the cereal selection with critical
eyes. He will probably choose something boring and healthy. Something
with oats or raisins. Who the fuck puts raisins in cereal? That doesn’t make
any fucking sense. Louis almost exclaims ‘knew it’ when Harry puts box of
generic honey and oats in the cart.
“Dunno,” Harry answers, pushing the cart. Louis is getting really tired of
these one word answers. It is so much easier to get Harry to open up with
pen and paper. He lets his guard down a bit more that way, but Louis is
going to keep trying verbally. He will get through someday. Probably. He is
surprised when Harry asks a question of his own. “What are you going to
be?”
“That’s a surprise,” Louis teases, having thought of his costume in second

period. He can’t wait to see the look on Harry’s face Halloween night. He is
so busy hearing the evil laughter in his head that he almost misses the small
smile Harry gives him as he throws a few boxes of cheap mac and cheese
into the cart.
“Come on, Lou, tell me,” Harry whines after a few seconds, the idea of not
knowing clearly gets to him. He has never heard Harry whine before, and
even though Harry has used the nickname before, it does something to him.
He almost tells Harry right then and there. Almost, but no. Louis hates
surprises, but he loves surprising people. Pranking them too, but it is really
the same thing if you really think about it. Right?
“Nope,” Louis says popping the ‘p’ and smirking. Harry pouts, and Louis
isn’t ready for it. Holy shit. How can Harry go from scary goth kid to so
fucking endearing in zero point two seconds flat is beyond Louis. Louis
actually feels sorry for the world since they may never get to experience
this Harry.
“Don’t pout,” Louis laughs, taking the bag of chips Harry hands him and
placing them in the cart. It all feels very domestic, and Louis is kind of
enjoying it. So much better than fucking football practice, that’s for damn
sure.
“I don’t pout,” Harry says, looking adorably moody all of the sudden. Louis
really wants to kiss him, but he can’t. That may be the most frustrating
thing in the world, not being able to kiss someone in public simply because
you are both of the same sex. It’s not fair really, but Louis is slowly learning
that not many things in life are actually fair.
“You’re cute when you do. Hard to resist,” Louis responds, smiling at
Harry. He likes flirting with Harry. It makes him kind of squirmy and
adorable. As if he doesn't really know what to do. Louis wants to teach him.
He wants to teach him a lot of things and it seems, after his little history
lesson today in choir, Harry can also teach him a thing or two as well. He
already made a mental note to look up the origins of Halloween when he
gets home. It’s not that he doesn't believe Harry, he would just like to know
more. Everything Harry said is so interesting, and he wants to learn.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Harry says slowly, as if he isn’t sure if it is the right
thing to say. He watches as a very light blush crawls up Harry’s cheeks
before he turns his attention towards the milk, grabbing a gallon in one big
hand. Louis has had so many dreams about those same hands, usually
waking up hard. It only takes two tugs imagining it is Harry’s hand to get
him off when that happens. If Louis is honest, which he rarely is with some
people including himself, Harry has been the subject of his wanking
material since the very first day of class. Kissing him has only added to
that. He wonders if Harry jacks off to thoughts of him as well? The image
makes Louis’ dick twitch in his jeans. Fuck. He needs to focus. He can’t get
a hard on in the middle of a grocery store no matter how how nice the
gentle movement of Harry’s hips are in front him. His long legs carrying
him down the aisle, his ass swaying back and forth with his steps. Louis
wants to walk up behind Harry and hold him around the waist as they both
guide the cart be he can’t . Fuck.
They spend the next half hour wandering the isles of the grocery store,
discussing the merits of Kettle cooked chips over regular, not even throwing
Pringles into the mix. Pringles are apparently Niall’s favorite chip, who
knew? Louis learns a bit more about Niall and Harry’s relationship. It turns
out, they have been friends since they were in elementary school. Harry
apparently had more friends until middle school, but then it was just Niall.
He wouldn’t tell Louis why, and Louis didn’t want to push sensing that it
may be a sensitive subject for Harry. Liam, to his surprise, went to a
different elementary and middle school in town. Louis wasn’t aware of this,
but there are apparently three elementary schools, two middle schools, and
one high school.
“Thank you,” Harry tells the cashier as he pays. Louis decides to load the
bags into the cart, keeping his head down incase the woman recognizes
him. He doesn't know her, but that doesn't mean she wouldn’t know him.
Perks of living in a small town. Well there is nothing perky about living in a
small town. It’s all shit. They quickly load the groceries into Louis’ car then
get in. Louis wordlessly hands Harry his phone, telling him that he can pick
the music again. This time, Harry sings along to the songs as they drive.
Louis doesn’t know the song, but he does enjoy Harry’s deep voice as it
flows through the car. The music sounds angry, but from what he can make
out of the lyrics, it is a love song. Hmm. He glances at Harry as he sings,
smiling. Something about the moment feels perfect. A week ago, he would
have never thought he would have Harry in his car, singing along to some
metal song, but here they are. If his parents find out, and he is never
allowed to leave his room again, it will be worth it, because Harry Styles is
currently sitting beside him, in his car, singing and smiling. Perfect.
Everything is perfect.
As they pull up in front of Harry’s house, Louis tries not to cringe at the
chipping paint, the grime, or the broken shutter. It looks even worse in the
light of day, the white banister somehow looking even more dingy than it
did the other night. Louis’ stomach turns at the thought of Harry living in
there. It may not be so bad on the inside, but if the outside is anything to go
by, Louis isn’t so sure. Harry shoots him a nervous smile, fiddling with the
door handle, as if he isn’t sure what to do now.
“Do you need some help taking the stuff inside?” Louis offers, knowing full
well that Harry will answer in the negative. Harry probably isn’t ready to let
him see the inside, yet. Baby steps.
“No, I got it, but thank you,” Harry says, finally meeting Louis’ eyes. Louis
smiles at him, letting him know that it’s okay.
“Okay, if you’re sure,” Louis replies, putting his hand on Harry’s, enjoying
the warmth under his fingers. Harry freezes for a second before he relaxes
again. Someday, he may be able to touch Harry without him tensing up.
Louis has found that Harry doesn't tense, as long as he sees it coming. It’s
when he is surprised that he freezes.
“I actually think my mom’s home. I haven't seen her in a few days, so

yeah,” Harry tells him, looking at the house. He hasn’t seen her in a few
days? That has to be an exaggeration. How is that even possible? Louis
wonders exactly how much time Harry spends alone in that house without
food. A pang hits Louis’ chest again, along with an unbearable need to
protect the boy he has found. Protect him with everything he’s got.
“Oh okay. Well text me, okay?” Louis asks, and Harry nods, his curls
bouncing with the movement. Louis hadn’t realized, but Harry’s hair is
beginning to get long. He makes a mental note to ask him if he is growing it
out later, when they aren’t saying goodbye. Louis glances around, making
sure the street is empty before he leans over the center console to kiss
Harry. Harry’s lips are warm and soft under his own, like always. They feel
perfect. After a few moments, Harry parts them, inviting Louis inside.
Louis likes how much more confident Harry has gotten with kissing since
their first one just a few days ago. Jesus. It feels like a lifetime ago at this
point. Louis keeps the kiss slow and leisurely, not wanting to get too caught
up in the moment.
“Thank you, for, you know, for the ride and helping me grocery shop. You
made it less boring,” Harry says, breaking the kiss and looking into Louis’
eyes.
“Gee thanks. That is a lovely compliment, Harold,” Louis deadpans,

smiling when Harry laughs and shoves him. Harry kisses him on the cheek
then gets out of the car, grabbing all of the bags in both large hands,
disappearing inside the house.
_____________
“Harry is that you?” Harry hears Anne’s voice as soon as he walks through
the door. He quickly goes to the kitchen, the weight of the bags hurting his
arms and hands.
“Yeah. It’s me,” Harry yells back, sitting the bags down and begins to go
through them.
“What’s that?” He hears Anne say a few minutes later from behind him. He
turns around to find her staring at him curiously, still wearing her uniform
from the restaurant.
“Oh. I um-- I went grocery shopping,” Harry answers, gesturing towards all
of the bags. He hates how awkward things have been between him and his
mom for the last several years. He just doesn't know how to fix it. They
used to be really close, him, her and Gemma. Their dad was there, but he
never felt a bond with him like he did his mom. Things have changed since
then, his dad leaving for starters. Harry has changed, and his mom just
didn’t know how to deal with it. He doesn't blame her really. Why would
she want a broken son? How could she love someone so defective?
“Where did you get the money to pay for all this? You better not be dealing
drugs. Are you?” She asks, looking down at the assortment of groceries.
Harry rolls his eyes to cover up the pain he almost lets show on his features.
He knows he is a screw up, but he would never sell drugs or anything like
that. It hurts him that it is his mom’s first thought.
“No. I got a job at the music store in town. I told you about it a few weeks
ago,” Harry responds, a slight edge to his voice as he distracts himself by
putting the cold things in the fridge. Smiling when he remembers the look
on Louis’ face when he bought the avocados.
“Oh. I forgot,” she says, not even apologizing for the fact that she thought
he was dealing fucking drugs. Harry rolls his eyes as he puts the cheese in
the drawer. “How’s school?”
Harry doesn't want to answer, but he decides to go a head and answer

anyway. It is the first time they have really spoken in weeks, the notes on
the fridge not counting. “Going good. I am getting A’s in all of my classes.”
He glances over at her. She is just sitting at the table, staring off into the
distance. Harry isn’t even sure she is listening to him.
“That’s great, honey,” she replies, almost robotically.
“Um-- So how’s work been?” Harry asks when he realizes Anne has
finished talking, wanting to fill the awkward silence that has settled over the
room. Everything between them just feels so stilted. Harry hates it. It’s why
he avoids her if he can. It is probably why she avoids him as well. He
begins to put the dry food in the pantry, glancing over at her every few
seconds to see if she answers.
“Busy,” Is all she says, making Harry want to scream. Getting more than a
few words out of her is like trying to drop a penny into a jar from the top of
the Empire State Building… damn near impossible.
“Well, if you need money for bills and stuff, I can help now,” Harry offers,
smiling at her when she finally looks in his direction.
“Honey, I can’t take your money. Use it to buy something you want.” She
returns his smile, with a small one of her own. It doesn't quite reach her
eyes. She looks tired and like she has aged twenty years in the past five. It’s
his fault. Everything is his fault. He is the reason why their relationship is
so fucked up. He let people get to him. He trusted people. He should never
have. If he hadn’t, then maybe his mom would still love him.
“But Mom I-- I want to,” Harry tells her, trying to get her to see that he just
wants to help her so maybe she will be around more often. She probably
doesn't want to be around though. Why would she want to be around her
useless excuse for a son? All he does is cause her sadness, so he doesn't
blame her for being gone all the time. It is only human to want to be away
from the person bringing you down. He is like a sinking ship. Well he was,
but maybe not so much the last few days. She doesn't need to know that
though. He doesn’t need to add yet another thing to the never ending list of
ways he disappoints her.
“We will talk about it later. I’m tired, so I am going to go to bed. I have to
be up at three am.” She doesn’t even tell him good night as she gets up and
walks out of the room without another word. He was going to protest, tell
her that it isn’t even dark outside yet. Maybe even ask her if she wants to
watch a movie, but it all dies on his tongue as she walks away without even
sparing him a second glance. He almost texts Louis about it, but decides
against it. Not wanting to open up that can of worms nor bother him with
his shit. Instead, he just finishes putting away the groceries, then goes to his
own room to do homework and write in his journal. Today had been such a
good day, too.
Chapter End Notes

The Witching Hour
Chapter Summary
The boys attend a Halloween Party, and Louis has an identity crisis.
Chapter Notes
Don’t you see the way I look at you
I can see behind your eyes
Can’t you tell the way I reach for you
I wear my halo in disguise
I watch you burn
I can feel you
I watch as you turn

What did you do- In This Moment
“I don’t want them to go out Trick-or-Treating, Johannah, why must you

argue with me about this?” Louis hears Mark yell from their bedroom,
which is down stairs, next to the living room. Louis was just walking into
the kitchen, minding his own business, when he heard them arguing. He
decides to stop and listen in, wondering how his mom is going to respond.
“For God’s sake Mark, it is just a bit of fun,” she responds, voice muffled
since she isn’t yelling like her husband.
“Don’t use His name in vain. What has gotten into you? First you want our
kids to celebrate the Devil’s holiday, and now you are using God’s name in
vain,” Mark yells, and Louis can almost see him pointing at his mother
threateningly. Louis rolls his eyes, mind flashing back to the conversation
with Harry two weeks ago in Choir class. Since then, he has done a bit of
his own research finding that Harry was correct, not that he doubted him.
Harry hasn’t lied to him about facts yet, and he didn’t expect him to start.
That seems to be his parents M.O. Halloween literally has nothing to do
with the devil, and Louis kind of wants to burst into their room and tell
Mark exactly that. Christians stole their traditions. Louis briefly wonders
what else they have stolen, but quickly pushes that thought away, not ready
to go there yet.
“Mark, why do we have to have this argument every year? It is harmless

fun. They are going to dress up in costumes and go around to the neighbors
houses to get candy. Lottie and Fizzy are even going with us. Calm down.
It’s not the end of the world, and the devil isn’t going to the possess them
for going,” his mom reasons, voice still steady despite the fact that Louis
knows she is getting irritated. Louis almost cheers at his mom’s logic. She
is correct, celebrating a holiday doesn't mean you are a Satanist. There is
nothing inherently wrong with Halloween. In fact, a lot of the traditions are
quite fascinating to Louis. He spent an hour and half the other night reading
about Samhain, even though it took him a good few minutes to find it since
it is spelled oddly and nothing like how it is actually pronounced. He almost
texted Harry to ask how to spell it, but didn’t want the other boy to think he
didn’t believe him.
Harry had actually been texting him more since their trip to the grocery
store. Nothing too deep and meaningful, mostly just little things about his
day. Yesterday, he sent Louis a picture of mac and cheese. Louis was
confused for a moment before he remembered that Harry had bought some
boxes while they were shopping, so he figured that was why. He feels like
he is finally getting Harry to open up a bit. He hopes that Harry doesn't feel
so lonely anymore, even though he would have never admitted to being
lonely to begin with. Louis wants to make sure he knows that even if he
can’t always physically be with him, he is just a text message away.
“Fine, but when they start practicing witchcraft and worshipping the Devil,
the blame will be squarely on your shoulders,” Mark says, after a few
moments. Louis can hear his breathing is heavy in his anger. Louis rolls his
eyes again at yet another ignorant comment spewing from Mark’s mouth. It
shocks him though, that just a few months ago, he may have somewhat
agreed with Mark. He wouldn’t have taken it so far as to believe that people
who celebrate Halloween were Satan worshipers, but he probably would
have agreed that it could lead someone to witchcraft if they went in deep
enough. He didn’t realize how much Harry has taught him and actually
changed his way of thinking until that very moment, and he is strangely
okay with it. It never felt forced. Harry always told him the facts then let
him make up his own mind, which is very different than Mark and his mom.
“Stop being so dramatic,” Jay responds, and Louis can hear her rolling her
eyes at her husband. He is a lot like his mom, after all. He hears footsteps
coming to the door, so he runs into the kitchen, preparing himself for the lie
he has decided on. He arranges his expression into one of exhaustion and
pain, having done this before.
“Oh, Lou. I didn’t know you were in here. Are you okay, love?” She asks,
facial features morphing into that of concern for her son. If Louis wasn’t
acting as though he was in pain, then he would smile.
“I have a bit of a migraine. I came down to get something to drink, so I

could take some meds and maybe go to bed early,” Louis tells her, squinting
his eyes a bit as if the light is bothering him.
“Oh, Boobear.” His mom rushes over to him, placing her hand on his
forehead, and looking him in the eyes. She is a nurse, so she is hard to fool.
However, he is usually able to get away with it, especially if he wasn’t
trying to get out of school or something. “You don’t feel warm.”
“Yeah, I think it’s just a migraine.”
“Oh, you need to drink lots of water. You may be dehydrated, and you have
been stressing yourself out over your physics homework. I think you need
rest, so go upstairs, drink some water, take some meds, and call it an early
night,” she tells him, eyes full of concern. Louis almost feels bad, then he
remembers what is waiting for him at the party, so he doesn’t anymore.
“Yeah, that’s my plan.” Louis smiles at her, wincing in fake pain. He really
should get a fucking Oscar. She walks over to the fridge and gets him a
bottle of water, thrusting it in his hands.
“Lottie, Fizzy, and I are taking the twins trick-or-treating. Mark will be here
with you if you need anything,” she tells him, smiling kindly. Mark is pretty
easy to get around. He usually waits until Mark has passed out on the couch
snoring softly with Fox News playing on the television in front of him, then
sneaks out. When they first moved in, he purposefully picked the room with
the tree outside of the window for a reason, thinking he could just climb
down the tree. This isn’t his first time sneaking out, and it probably won’t
be his last.
__________
“Is Louis here, yet?” Harry asks, glancing around at the people in the small
living room of Josh Devine’s house, not spotting Louis’ chestnut hair
among the crowd. He is antsy, feeling as though his skin is too tight. He
should have never agreed to this, but Louis and his stupid face can make
him agree to just about anything. Which is a fucking problem, if you ask
Harry.
“Relax, Haz. He literally just texted you and said he was on his way. He did
have to sneak out after all,” Niall reasons, looking ridiculous in a red
Netflix shirt holding a bucket with fake ice in it that says ‘Chill’ in blue
letters, with fake snow on top. Niall’s blue eyes glance around the small
space, smiling and waving when he catches sight of Liam. Liam, dressed as
Batman, walks up to them, holding a red solo cup full of what Harry can
only assume is some kind of liquor concoction. He never took Liam to be
the type for underaged drinking, but Harry is starting to learn not to judge a
book by it’s cover. Maybe Harry really has been a hypocrite all along. He
barely listens as Liam and Niall discuss some random movie that is
apparently coming out soon, too focused on appearing as if he belongs
there. He hasn’t gained attention from many of his fellow classmates. Most
of them seem pretty drunk already though, so that isn’t exactly a feat.
Harry jumps when he feels a small warm hand resting on his lower back.
He turns around to find Louis, of course. He loves to scare him for
whatever reason. Louis is just smirking at him, with a wicked glint in his
eye. Harry realizes why when he takes in Louis’ costume, eyes roaming up
and down Louis’ form. Louis is wearing a white shirt and white pants. This
in and of itself isn’t what makes the costume though. Perched on Louis lithe
shoulders are white angel wings, his head adorned with a fake halo. Louis
came to the Halloween party as a fucking angel. Of course he did. Why the
fuck not? He loves fucking with Harry, and what better way than coming
dressed as an angel. An angel that Harry very much wants to defile and be
the reason he fell from grace.
“Where’s your costume?” Louis asks, voice snapping Harry out of all the
ways he would convince the angel in front of him to apostatize from faith.
He has already been convincing Louis to do that, so how much more
difficult could the angel version be? Louis is smirking at him again, as if he
knows Harry’s thoughts which… hopefully not.
“I’m wearing a costume,” Harry responds with a smirk of his own.

“You’re wearing what you always wear,” Louis points out, gesturing to
Harry’s chosen clothes, a black shirt and black jeans.
“I’m a witch.” Harry shrugs his shoulders, trying to stop the small smile
threatening to bloom on his face. Louis crosses his arms, looking
unconvinced, and it is pretty adorable if Harry does say so himself.
“Where’s your hat and broom? What about a wart or something?” Louis
asks, looking offended at the mere idea of Harry being a witch. Harry very
much wants to laugh, but schools his expression. He knew that would be
Louis’ response. Harry is pretty good at calculating people’s next moves if
he knows them well enough. As much as it pains him to admit it, he is
beginning to know Louis very well.
“That’s stereotyping, Louis,” Harry scolds, placing a palm on his chest as if

Louis actually hurt him. He can be dramatic if the occasion calls for it, and
fucking with Louis is definitely a time that calls for it. “Witchcraft is still
practiced today, and they look like everyone else.” May as well add some
education to the mix, for good measure.
Louis looks like he is mulling over the information. Harry knows that look
so well, he has considered having it tattooed to the back of his eyelids. He
may well, he will never forget it because it may be his favorite Louis look.
After a few moments, Louis cracks a smile and says, “Look at us. An angel
and a witch. I feel like that may be the beginning of some really bad porno.”
Harry is so taken aback by the joke, he can’t help the sound he releases
from his mouth. It is nothing short of embarrassing being somewhere
between a laugh a squawk, loud and honking. He slaps his hand over his
mouth to stop it, saving himself further embarrassment. He can feel his
cheeks heat with it, the now familiar feeling working it’s way through his
entire system. He glances up to find Louis smirking, a fond look on his
face.
“What happened?” Liam cuts in, his eyes darting between the two boys.
“I made him laugh,” Louis responds, smug smile firmly in place. Harry
kind of wants to punch him and maybe kiss him. He can decide later, but for
now he lowers his hands and nods. Liam looks somewhat amused by it, and
Niall is all out laughing. Bastards. Harry needs new friends. Wait. What the
fuck? When did he start counting Liam among his friends? No. Nope. No,
that will not happen.
“I’m gonna go and get us some drinks. Need a refill?” Niall asks, looking
down at Liam’s almost empty cup. Harry watches as Liam hands Niall the
cup, then drops his gaze back down to the floor. “Wanna come with me,
Lou?” Harry’s head snaps to Niall, shaking it minutely, glancing over at
Liam. Niall can’t leave him alone with Liam. What the fuck were they even
supposed to talk about? They literally have nothing in common. Can’t Niall
and Liam go get drinks, leaving Louis and Harry to talk? Well, if Harry is
honest, there is a halfway decent chance the boys would come back to find
them missing, but that isn't the point. The point is: Niall can’t possibly leave
him alone with Liam.
“Yeah, fine by me,” Louis responds, maneuvering his body around Harry’s,
his hand resting on Harry’s waist as his crotch presses into Harry’s ass,
sending a spark of arousal through his system. Louis smirks at him,
knowing what he did while Niall smirks for leaving Harry alone with Liam.
He wants to strangle both of them but doesn’t have a chance since they
disappear into the crowd. He looks back at Liam, awkward silence falling
between them. They both look away, attempting to find something,
anything to distract them from the awkward silence. Harry spots a tattoo on
the arm of one of his classmates. It’s a stupid fucking tribal tattoo, the dark
design circling his bicep. Harry hates those types of tattoos; he always held
the belief that tattoos should mean something or at the very least be punny.
“So-- umm--- do you want to get a tattoo?” Liam asks, dark eyes staring in
a similar spot that Harry was looking at moments before. Harry is confused
by the question, but then follows Liam’s gaze, eyes landing back on their
classmate with the terrible tattoo.
“Oh yeah-- um-- I am actually saving up for one now,” Harry responds,
giving himself a mental pat on the back for being a socially acceptable
human being and responding to questions he is asked for once. Louis would
be so proud.
“Oh cool! I can’t wait to get to college and get my own job so I can get a
tattoo. My parents are going to murder me, but I have always wanted one,
so they can fucking get over it,” Liam exclaims, face lighting up with the
admission, and what? Liam wants a tattoo? Good little church boy Liam
actually wants a tattoo and is going to defy his parents to get one. He has to
be lying to him, but why would he lie about something so trivial? Harry had
just never taken Liam for someone who would want a tattoo, then again, he
is also learning quite a bit about the different facets of Liam’s personality.
That thought both intrigues and frightens him. He takes a deep breath,
determined to keep talking for the sake of Louis. Since when did he do
something for someone else? Fucking now, apparently.
“Oh-- umm-- what kind of tattoo do you want as your first?” He asks,
genuinely interested. He is also attempting to keep the conversation moving
as a way to prove to both Louis and Niall that he can play nice.
“I’m not sure, yet. I have loads planned, but I want my first to be special to
me, you know?” Harry does know. He has had the same exact thought
thousands of times, and he is glad that Liam agrees with the sentiment.
“Save the random tattoos for later, when you already have a few on your
body,” Liam continues. “I was thinking some kind of scroll right here, I just
don’t know what I want it to say yet.” Liam then holds up his arm and
points to his forearm, running a finger along the spot where the muscle
meets the bone under the stretchy fabric of his costume.
“Oh yeah. I’ve heard that’s not a too painful place. Not like the back of the
hand or knee or something,” Harry says, looking at the indicated spot,
trying to imagine the other man with a tattoo. It just seems like a foreign
concept to Harry, but Liam seems pretty set on getting one. If he isn’t lying,
that is.
“What do you want? As a tattoo, I mean,” Liam clarifies dropping his arm
back down to his side, looking at Harry with another small smile. Harry
gets the feeling that Liam honestly wants to know. He wants to know
something about Harry, and that is just strange to him. Harry isn’t used to
people paying him any type of attention unless it is negative. First Louis
and now Liam. He knows Louis wanted in his pants, but Liam? What’s his
motive?
“Umm-- I haven’t decided, yet. I agree with you; I think your first tattoo
should be special. You can’t just get anything. It has to mean something. I
have a lot planned, but I think I want the first one to be on my arm, but I
don’t know exactly what I want. I think it will eventually become a part of a
sleeve. I just don’t want the sleeve to mold seamlessly together; I would
prefer it to be just random items that mean something to me,” Harry tells
him, gripping his left bicep. He has thought about it a lot, but it is hard for
him to settle on one idea for his first when he has so many. He knows his
first one will be smallish, since he probably won’t be able to afford a bigger
one right away. Liam nods like he understands what he is talking about, and
Harry realizes this is the most he has ever spoken to Liam. It should feel
weird, but it doesn’t. Louis has told him multiple times that Liam is kind
hearted and can be trusted, even going as far as to tell him that Liam stuck
up for Harry at their church once. Harry was shocked by the information,
his mind immediately thinking Louis was lying to him. He really needs to
get a grip on that and give Louis a little bit of trust, though.
“Are you boys getting along?” Louis’ voice interrupts both his thoughts and
the conversation, appearing beside Harry holding two solo cups. He hands
one to Harry, their fingers brushing with the exchange. A spark of
electricity goes up Harry’s spine from the simple touch. It is ridiculous
really, but everything about their relationship seems a little ridiculous.
“Yeah. We were just talking about tattoos,” Harry responds, gesturing

towards Liam with a small smirk on his face. Louis doesn’t even try to hide
the distaste that takes over his features. Harry just chuckles a bit, knowing
he can bring Louis around to liking tattoos. Maybe never getting one of his
own, but at least being okay with them on other people.
“They’re cool, just don’t want one for myself. I’m fine with whatever floats
your boat,” Niall interjects, handing Liam a cup and rocking on his tiptoes
then back onto his heels, smiling at them, his braces gleaming in the light.
Harry knows how much Niall hates his braces, excited to get them off over
the summer before they go to college.
“Where’s Willow?” Liam asks, looking around. Harry freezes. He had

almost forgotten Liam thought that Louis and Willow were really dating,
that they were really a couple.
“Oh, her parents are strict like mine, but she didn’t feel comfortable
sneaking out,” Louis provides, wrapping both small hands around his cup,
puckering his lips, and taking a small sip as he looks through his long
eyelashes at Harry. The whole thing shouldn’t be both sexy and obscene,
but it is. Harry hates him.
“Makes sense,” Liam shrugs. Harry releases a pent up breath he didn’t

realize he had been holding. Louis looks happy that Liam bought his lie.
Harry very much doubts Louis even told Willow about the party, probably
not wanting to complicate things more. Harry still feels a bit of jealousy
when he sees them together, wishing he could openly be with Louis. He
knows, logically, that he shouldn’t be jealous. Everything Louis and Willow
have is fake, no feelings involved whatsoever. Just a means to an easier life
for both of them. It is what it is, but that still doesn’t make it hurt less.
Harry takes a big drink from his cup at the thought, relishing in the feeling
of the liquor mixture burning his throat on the way down his esophagus.
___________
“I think I’m drunk,” Louis slurs out, really concentrating on getting the
words from his brain to his mouth, then out into the open for everyone to
hear. Well for Harry to hear mostly, since he has no fucking idea where
Liam and Niall have wandered off to. To him, though, Harry is everyone.
Louis may or may not be just a tad sappy and way too touchy when he is
drinking. Thankfully, everyone else at the party seems to be in an equal
state, so no one seems to be paying them a lick of attention. A lick? Fuck.
Since when did he start using ‘a lick’ as a form of measurement? Is he
turning into one of these redneck hillbillies? He needs to stop spending so
much time with Niall before he starts using crazy fucking phrases that he is
still unsure what most of them mean and drinking moonshine. At that
thought, he looks down at his cup, watching the liquid inside sway with his
own movements. He just didn’t realize he was swaying until that very
moment.
“Is there moonshine in my cup? Is it turning me into a redneck?” Louis
asks, letting the thoughts in his head out into the air. He holds his cup up to
Harry, accusingly, his mouth forming a pout. That has to be it. It’s the only
logical explanation. There is some kind of magical moonshine concoction
in his cup that is turning him into Niall. He will be barefoot and playing the
banjo before the night is over at this rate.
“I don’t think it works that way, love,” Harry responds with a laugh, letting
the term of endearment slip from his red lips like honey. His eyes are glassy
from his own alcohol consumption, letting his guard down more and more
as the night progresses. He is so pretty. Louis doesn't know exactly why
Harry is laughing. It is a legitimate concern, but he also doesn’t care since
his favorite feature of Harry’s is on full display. His fucking dimples. Each
time Louis gets a glimpse of one, he feels special somehow because Harry
doesn’t smile very often. When he sees them, he feels like he is privy to a
special moment, inducted into an exclusive club of some sort. A club that
allows Louis to bask in the loveliness that is Harry, and Harry’s fucking
dimples.
“You’re so pretty,” Louis voices, completely forgetting about his morphing

into a redneck crisis, opting instead to poke Harry’s left dimple with an
unsteady hand. Well he has to try twice to get it, but he thinks it is a job
well done, considering his current state of inebriation. Louis is just happy
he didn’t accidentally poke his eye out, which would be a shame
considering Harry has such lovely eyes. Louis decides though, Harry would
still be pretty regardless of eye count.
“Thank you.” The redness on Harry’s cheek deepens to match the same
color of his lips with the compliment. He looks down for a few moments,
then looks back up, locking eyes with Louis. Louis finds himself holding
his breath for some reason, waiting to know what Harry is about to say.
“You’re beautiful as well.” His voice is low and gravelly, the words
washing over Louis like a warm summer rain, making his insides turn to
mush.
“It’s hot in here. I’m sweating like a whore in church.” Niall’s boisterous
voice shatters their bubble, making reality swoop in and hit Louis square in
the chest. A whore in church? Where the fuck does he come up with this
shit? Well, Louis supposes a whore would sweat in church, probably
because he or she is nervous about being judged. Louis, himself, has begun
to feel sweaty in church. He looks over at Niall, who also seems to be on
the happy side of drunk, and blinks at him amusedly. Harry just said he is
beautiful, and Niall ruined the moment. Louis could slap him, but he is
pretty sure his balance wouldn’t hold up, therefore he settles for a glare.
“Did I interrupt somethin’?” Niall asks, blue eyes darting between Harry
and Louis in question as he pulls his red shirt from his skin dropping it back
down over and over again, attempting to cool it off.
“Fuck off,” Harry responds, but there isn’t much venom in his tone. There
hardly ever is with Niall, Louis has found. Louis suddenly realizes he and
Harry are standing far too close to one another to be considered friendly. He
goes to move away, but Harry’s arms comes around his waist, tightening
quickly and stopping him in his tracks. He looks up at the other man, who
just smiles down at him. What the fuck? He figured Harry would want to
hide the nature of their relationship in front of his friend, but it seems like
Harry is just pulling him closer. Has to be the alcohol.
“Why? Wanna give your boy here mouth to south resuscitation?” Niall asks,
gesturing towards Louis and bobbing his eyebrows up and down. Mouth to
what? Hold on… is Niall referring to a blowjob? No way. He can’t know.
How does he know? Maybe Louis is imagining things, but then Niall puts
his loose fist up to his mouth, and pokes his tongue into his cheek, making
it protrude. Louis can feel the panic rise in his chest, taking hold of his
heart. Niall knows. What if he tells Louis’ parents? What if he tells Mark?
Louis will surely be murdered or exiled from his own family. He will never
see his mom or sisters again. Shit. This can’t be happening. Louis can feel
the tears start to form in his eyes as he begins to push hard against Harry’s
firm chest, wanting to get out of Harry’s grasp and away from Niall.
“Shh, baby. It’s okay,” Harry soothes holding him tighter, his green eyes
soft with concern, confusion appearing in his dark brows. Louis feels like
he can’t breath though. How is this okay? How is him not seeing his family
ever again okay? Louis’ drunken brain can’t fathom this.
“He knows?” Louis finally chokes out, eyes glistening with tears as he
glances to Niall who looks a bit panicked and very concerned.
“Yeah, but you can trust me. I swear, I won’t tell no one. I have known
about Harry’s preference for years and never told a soul,” Niall says, voice
soft and gentle, both hands held out in a calming gesture. Louis’ head is
spinning with the new information. Niall knows, but Harry trusts him.
Harry doesn’t trust anyone, so Louis supposes he can trust him as well.
With this thought, he feels like he is finally able to take air into his lungs
again, breathing pattern becoming somewhat regular. He also feels
decidedly more sober than before, which is a fucking shame.
“You told him?” Louis asks, looking up into Harry’s eyes. He isn’t angry,
more so curious at this point. He is just so surprised that someone knows
Harry’s sexuality. It just solidifies Louis’ belief that Niall has some kind of
magical powers. That his new title is now ‘The Harry Whisperer’, and he
should have a laurel leaf crown with ebony gems perched on his blond
head.
“Yeah. I mean, kind of. He knew everything leading up to it, so he kind of

figured it out once we started talking again.” Harry’s words stumbled from
his mouth quickly, well quickly for Harry, as honest green eyes stare into
Louis’ soul. One hand is gripping Louis hip while the other is rubbing
soothing circles on his lower back, like he looks scared as if the idea of
Louis being mad at him is terrifying. Louis doesn't think as he gets on his
tiptoes and plants a soft kiss on Harry’s lips. When his heels hit the floor
again, unsteadily he may add, Harry is beaming at him, dimples back with a
fucking vengeance. Louis’ eyes widen when he realizes what he just did in
a room full of people. He begins looking around, making sure no one was
looking at them.
“Relax, no one saw. I was blocking you from most people, plus Josh is dong
a keg stand, so everyone is chanting him on,” Niall informs, thumb
gesturing over his shoulder where Louis can see their classmate, in fact,
attempting to do a keg stand. It feels like the volume control of the party is
turned on full blast, the sound of the crowd filling his ears. He was so
wrapped up in Harry, he didn’t even realize what the hell was going on
around them.
“Thanks,” Louis responds dumbly.

“I’m gonna go find Liam. You two have fun,” Niall says with a wink then
he is gone, disappearing into the crowd like some kind of magician sans
smoke. Louis shakes his head, attempting to stop thinking about Niall and
his magical powers. What is it with him and magic when he is drunk? It’s
like he just watched Harry Potter or something. Well he has never watched
it because he isn’t allowed, but they do magic in that movie right? That’s
the whole reason he isn’t allowed to watch it. Louis suddenly remembers
something Niall said, an idea popping into his head. A light bulb may have
actually appeared in the middle of his fake halo for all he knew. He just
needs to get Harry alone.
“Bathroom,” Louis mumbles into Harry’s ear, dick twitching at the thought
of what he is about to do, as he grabs Harry’s hand and pulls him along.
Louis looks around to make sure no one is watch them, and he pulls the
other boy up the stairs.
__________
Harry is very confused as he follows Louis up the stairs of the strange

house. His muddled brain can’t for the life of him figure out what they are
doing, but he doesn't question it, for once, instead following Louis through
the darkened hallway upstairs. Louis pauses for a moment, peering around
as if he is looking for something. He smiles when he apparently finds it,
then pulls Harry into a room.
“Where are we?” Harry asks just as Louis flips a switch bathing the room in
artificial light. Harry looks around to find that they are standing in a
bathroom. Louis shuts the door quietly, locking it, then turns towards Harry
with a wicked glint in his eye. Funny, considering Louis is still dressed as
an angel. Louis doesn’t answer, just walks up to Harry, hips swaying as he
smiles. Harry’s barely functioning motor skills, and that's on a sober day,
scarcely have time to react when Louis launches himself into Harry arms,
lips landing on his. There is no pretenses of chastity, it goes straight to
tongue, teeth, and spit. Harry grabs Louis’ ass as his head spins, feeling as
though it is the only thing keeping him on earth at the present moment.
Louis moans into his mouth, which isn’t helping matters.
“Please,” Louis whimpers after a few moments of making out and grinding.
Fuck. Harry doesn't know what Louis is asking for. He doesn’t know what
to do, and yet again, he is feeling out of his league with Louis. As if Louis
senses his inner turmoil, he takes Harry’s hand and guides it to his crotch,
putting it directly over the bulge and squeezing. Harry’s eyes widen for a
split second feeling the outline of Louis fat cock just below his palm, the
stupid fucking layer of fabric separating their skin. Harry has never been so
mad at an item of clothing in his life.
“Want your hand,” Louis moans into his mouth, when Harry doesn’t move.
The idea of touching Louis’ cock has Harry’s own becoming impossibly
hard. He bites his lip, concentrating on not coming in his pants again. He
can do that, right? Fuck. He isn’t so sure when he takes in Louis’
expression, eyes blown wide and glassy. With shaking fingers, Harry
unbuttons and unzips Louis’ white pants, looking down to see what he is
doing. He has never done this before. He knows he is fumbling, but he
wants to make it good. Louis looks down as well, then looks back up to
meet Harry’s eyes, reaching his own hand between them. Harry almost
chokes when he looks back down again to find Louis has freed his hard
cock, gripping it in one tiny hand. Harry closes his eyes for a second, trying
to stave off his quickly approaching orgasm. He opens them back up, and
fuck. Mistake. Mistake. Mistake. Louis’ cock is so pretty and thick, a blue
vein making a path from the base to the head, a path Harry wants to follow
with his tongue.
“Like you do it to yourself,” Louis supplies, taking Harry’s hand in his own
and guiding it to his cock. Harry hisses out a breath when his hand makes
contact with the soft, warm skin, the heaviness feeling perfect in his palm.
Louis then grabs Harry’s wrist, guiding it up and down twice, before he lets
Harry take over, moaning as Harry becomes more confident with it, finding
his own rhythm.
“Fuck, Harry. That feels so good,” Louis says, brokenly, eyes closed. Holy
shit. Harry may actually make him come. This can’t be real. As a way to
authenticate the moment, Harry uses his free hand to grab Louis hip, pulling
him closer. He picks up speed as he bends down, capturing Louis lips in a
wet kiss. It takes Louis 1.3 seconds to begin kissing back, small hands
coming up to tangle in Harry’s hair as he moans with abandon.
“Oh, God, Harry. Shit. I’m so close. Please, keep going,” Louis says,
breaking their kiss with a wet pop, his words going straight to Harry’s
neglected cock. Don’t come. Don’t come. Don’t come. Harry chants the
words, hoping that they will stick, and he won’t make a fool of himself yet
again. He wants to get Louis off this time. He stays quiet as he continues to
work Louis’ cock faster and faster, not really knowing what to say. Feeling
like if he says anything, he would just ruin the moment, and it would sound
cheesy.
“Watch.” Louis moans the word, gripping Harry’s hair to pull his gaze
down. Harry watches with wide eyes as his own large hands strokes Louis’
hard cock, the head red and angry looking. “Oh fuck. You’re gonna make
me come. Please, Harry. Shit. Please. Please. Please,” Louis begs, and
Harry isn’t sure which he would prefer looking at, Louis face or his cock as
he comes. He decides to let his eyes dart between them, like some kind of
rogue tortoise shell in Mario Kart. Louis’ mouth opens in a silent cry, then
Harry feels the come on his hand, looking down quickly to find Louis’ cock
releasing spurt after spurt of the milky white substance. He looks back up to
see Louis’ blissful expression, mouth slightly open, eyes closed, long
eyelashes brushing the freckles that dust his cheeks. Everything about it is
beautiful and breathtaking.
After Louis is finished, Harry has an overwhelming desire to taste Louis’

release currently coating his hand, so he does. He bring his fingers to his
mouth and begins sucking on each digit. He has never tasted come before,
but he finds he doesn’t mind the salty taste. When he starts licking it off his
hand, his eyes find Louis’ who looks shocked and still a bit turned on.
Without uttering a word, Louis drops to his knees in front of him, his fake
wings fluttering with the movement. Holy shit. This can’t be happening.
Harry isn’t going to last.
“What are you doing?” Harry asks, his voice sounding foreign even to his
own ears. He thinks he is going to experience his first ever blow job, and
his cock is not displeased with this realization. He has been picturing Louis’
firm pink lips wrapped around his cock for the better part of three months
now. He may be finally getting to experience it. This has to be a dream. He
has to be dreaming. Louis Tomlinson dressed as a fucking angel is on his
knees in front of him, looking up at him with large blue eyes. Eyes the same
color as the heavens. Maybe he is an angel. Harry is too drunk to make a
list of the evidence right now, and his cock has other plans.
“Well, not praying if that’s what you’re asking.” Louis smirks at him, as he
watches Louis’ small nimble fingers go to the fly of his jeans in a silent
question. All Harry can do is nod his head vigorously. He should be shaking
it because he will surely embarrass himself, but his cock is too hard, and the
alcohol is making him slightly less concerned about that. Louis takes it as a
yes, undoes Harry’s jeans, pulling the tight material down to his knees, his
cock springing free. Louis studies it for a moment, and Harry wants to
squirm under his gaze. He knows he isn’t small, he has watched enough
porn to know that, but what if Louis hates it? What if he finds Harry’s cock
ugly or grotesque? Harry doesn’t get a moment to contemplate that thought
because Louis licks the head, and it feels like worlds colliding. Harry bites
his lip again, telling his body not to come even though he knows he is
dangerously close.
“This will at least get you something of substance,” Harry jokes because he
can’t let Louis have the upper hand when it comes to religious jokes. He is
still shocked Louis even said it, but stranger things have happened.
“That’s the plan,” Louis responds, eyes coming back to land on Harry’s
hard cock. He licks his lips in anticipation. Like he can’t wait to have it in
his mouth. Harry almost moans at the scene, but somehow suppresses it. He
needs to play it cool, unlike last time. He doesn't need another repeat of
that.
“I’m not gonna last long,” Harry warns, cheeks heating with
embarrassment. He hates this about himself. His stamina is shit, but he is
also a virgin, so it’s expected. He knows that logically, but right now, it
seems stupid and annoying. Louis probably doesn't want to waste his time
with someone who comes in mere minutes.
“That’s fine, love. I don’t want you to,” Louis tells him, taking Harry’s
length in his hand and kissing the tip. He then swirls his tongue around the
head, pressing hard against the silt, Harry barely stopping himself from
bucking into the sensation. Louis looks up at him again as he slowly closes
his mouth around the head, sucking lightly, and holy shit. It feels so good.
His mouth his hot and wet, making his body feel as though it is on fire.
When Louis begins taking more of his cock into his mouth, sucking harder,
Harry can’t help himself. He uses Louis’ fake halo to push himself deeper,
hitting the back of Louis’ throat. If this is what defiling an angel is like,
then he needs more to fall from grace. Or he just needs Louis to continue
his own fall.
Louis uses one hand to grip what he can’t reach with his mouth, bobbing his
hand with same rhythm as his head, sucking hard. If Harry has a soul, he is
sure Louis has sucked it out already, and he is fine with it. Giving Louis his
soul seems like a fine idea when Louis is on his knees before him. He never
thought he would be much of a talker when it came to this stuff, but he
finds himself muttering curse words to the rhythm of Louis’ head. He is
teetering on the edge, so he really needs to warn Louis. Louis probably
doesn’t want his come in his mouth. It was probably gross to him when
Harry licked Louis’ come off his hand.
“Fuck, baby. I’m so close. Pull off. Shit,” Harry almost yells, gripping
Louis’ fake halo hard and pulling. Instead of Louis’ mouth leaving his cock,
the halo is ripped from Louis’ head. It’s symbolic really, if Harry cared to
think about it, but right now, all he can think about is coming. He drops
Louis’ halo, and holds his cheek in his hand, feeling where his cock is
inside of Louis’ hot mouth. That’s all it takes. “Fuck. Holy fucking shit,”
Harry exclaims as he comes hard down Louis’ throat, entire body tingling
with the release. His limbs feel heavy and numb, as if Louis has sucked all
of his energy out along with his soul, as he sags back, leaning against the
sink.
“I think I ruined your halo,” Harry says with a smirk after a few moments,
helping Louis to his feet. He still can’t believe what just happened. His
brain is trying to process everything but to no avail. He makes a promise to
himself to return the favor to Louis soon, despite his insecurity and lack of
experience. He wants Louis to feel the way he just felt.
“That’s fine. I don’t really need it anyways,” Louis responds, and Harry
thinks the comment may have a double meaning but his brain is too drunk
and fucked out to contemplate it. Maybe tomorrow.
Chapter End Notes
Follow You
Chapter Summary
Harry attends Louis' football game only for Louis to get hurt on the
field.
Chapter Notes
My head is haunting me and my heart feels like a ghost
I need to feel something, 'cause I'm still so far from home
Cross your heart and hope to die
Promise me you'll never leave my side- Bring me the Horizon
“Haz! Harry! Over here!” Harry hears the very boisterous voice of his best
friend exclaiming somewhere to his right. When his gaze travels in the
direction of the voice calling him, he quickly spots Niall’s bright blonde
hair as he waves both hands to get Harry’s attention. Harry sends him a
small wave as he makes his way towards the other boy, muttering ‘excuses
mes’ and ‘sorrys’ as he steps over others sitting in their spots on the
bleachers. He has no idea why he agreed to this. Oh yes he does, because
fucking Louis Tomlinson asked him to, and Harry has found that when
Louis pouts his sexy firm lips out, Louis can get Harry to agree to just about
anything. Including, but not limited to, going to yet another fucking football
game.
“Hey,” Harry greets, dropping down onto the bleacher next to Niall. He
hates how cramped everything is. He has never done all that well with
crowds, but now here he is, nut to butt with random people to watch his…
well, Louis, play in a fucking football game.
“I didn’t think you’d actually come. You must have it bad,” Niall remarks,
taking a huge bite of his chili cheese dog, the yellow substance dripping
onto his fingers.
“Fuck off,” Harry says, a little too loudly causing a mother two rows down
to dramatically cover her son’s ears and glare at him. He just rolls his eyes
because the kid is going to hear much worse than that during the course of
his lifetime. Probably already has. People can’t shield their children from
the world forever. It’s pathetic really. He has the urge to keep cursing just to
piss the PTA bitch off even more. Maybe he will.
Harry lets his eyes travel to the field, looking for the short player with the
perfect ass that he would recognize with his eyes closed. He has surely
spent enough time admiring that ass, even before they became a thing. As
his gaze finally lands on the Number 28 jersey, with the word
‘TOMLINSON’ written in uppercase, bold letters above it, Louis turns
around, as if feeling his gaze on him. He smirks and waves right at Harry.
Harry can feel the blood rushing to his cheeks and gives Louis small smile,
waving back.
“You look like a love sick puppy. It’s so cute.” Niall’s voice cuts into his
staring contest with Louis as he feels an elbow in his ribs. He rips his gaze
away from Louis, and that may be the most difficult thing he has ever done,
to glare at his friend.
“I don’t love him. We barely know each other,” Harry says after a few
moments of glaring, and it accomplishes nothing seeing as how Niall is still
smiling at him. It’s a lie. Well, not the loving part. Harry isn’t even sure if
he is capable of love, if he is being honest. It’s easier to love than to trust,
but without trust there is no love at all. He doesn’t trust Louis, yet, so, how
could he possibly love him?
“Eh. You’re gettin’ there,” Niall responds, setting down his hotdog in favor
of taking a bite from his Nacho Cheese platter. Seriously, how much cheese
can this boy consume? That can’t be healthy. When Niall starts waving
animatedly at someone on the field, Harry’s head whips back towards the
area to see Louis and Liam talking to each other, Louis pointing in their
direction. Liam nods then looks up at them then smiles and waves. Niall
starts waving back immediately, but Harry doesn’t until he feels Niall elbow
him yet again. Harry really needs to tie Niall’s arms to his sides, so he can’t
be so fucking annoying with them all of the time. When Harry returns
Liam’s wave, Liam beams, and that… well that’s just strange.
“Who’s that,” Niall asks, nodding towards their right. Again, Harry follows
the direction of his gaze to find a set of twin little girls waving their arms in
his direction, each sitting on the lap of another person. He looks around to
see if there is anyone else they could be waving at but finds no one. When
his gaze lands on them again, recognition dawns on him. They are Louis’
little sisters. He lets his eyes land on the people the laps belong to to find
Louis’ other sisters smiling at him brightly, also waving. Harry is… well he
is confused. That was over a month ago. How on earth did they recognize
him? He couldn’t have made that big of an impression on them and
certainly not a positive one.
“Um… Louis’ little sisters,” Harry tells Niall still flabbergasted by it all. He
knows his mouth is probably hanging open in shock and surprise, but he
can’t bring himself to close it. He is just so… dumbfounded.
“Well don’t just sit there like a knot on a log, H. Wave back,” Niall says,
actually lifting Harry’s wrist so he would snap out of it and get the picture.
Harry pulls his arm out of Niall’s grasp to glare at him for a split second
before he returns his gaze to the girls. He waves back because, fuck, what
else can he do? He suddenly wants them to like him. He has never actually
wanted anyone to like him, not for a long, long time, so this is a new feeling
for him. What the fuck?
“Look at you, making nice with Louis’ sisters. That’s so fuckin’ sweet it’s
givin’ me a toothache,” Niall quips, and Harry can feel his cheeks heating
up with the statement.
“Shut it, Ni,” Harry says, smiling now since they are all smiling at him
brightly. He doesn’t want them to think he is some kind of emotionless
freak, even though he is. He stops breathing when, he thinks it is Lottie,
nudges the woman sitting beside her. Blue eyes so much like Louis’ it
startles him, land on him. Lottie whispers something in her ear and the
woman smiles kindly, eyes crinkling at the corners and also waves. That
must be Louis’ mom, which means the angry man sitting beside her who is
doing nothing but watching the game must be Louis’ step-dad, Mark. Louis
doesn't talk about him much, but from what Harry has gathered, he is a bit
of an asshole. He even looks like an asshole. Hair cropped short to his head,
posture stiff and threatening. Harry never wants to meet him, but has the
sinking feeling it is inevitable.
“They seem to like you,” Niall speculates, watching the twins wave at
Harry one last time before a whistle is blown, bringing their attention back
to the game. Harry finally looks away, feeling both relieved and
disappointed. He is still having a hard time believing that they recognized
him after such a long time. He didn’t think he made that much of an impact
on them or their everyday lives. Maybe Louis was being honest when he
said Harry had made their whole day just by being around.
“How long do these things usually last?” Harry asks, changing the subject
after a few moments, looking around at all of the people and lights. He tries
to remember how long the homecoming game lasted, but his brain was so
scrambled from his first kiss that day that he barely remembers anything
about the game. He tries to calm himself down by taking deep breaths when
he notices how large the crowd is, how close people are to him. He can
make it through this without having a panic attack. He knows he can. Well
at least he hopes so.
“About two, two and a half hours,” Niall replies around a mouth full of
cheese. What item that cheese came from is beyond Harry. Harry had no
idea how long a game would last, but surely he must be joking. That is a
long ass time to play a sport. They must all be exhausted by the end of it.
“Jesus’ tits. That’s a lot of time to pretend to care.” That phrase gets Harry
another glare from the PTA bitch. He almost flips her off, but decides to
save it for a different moment. He doesn’t want to get kicked out of the
game, afterall. She definitely looks like the ‘let me speak to your manager’
type with her hair cut into an concave bob, being held high with far too
much hairspray. If Harry had held a match anywhere near her, he is sure her
head would combust from all of the chemicals.
“Don’t act like you don’t care. Save the shit, H. If you didn’t care, you
wouldn’t be here. It’s the first game of the playoffs. You know just as much
as I do that it is important to Louis and Liam. That’s why you’re here. Now
read your book and get out of my hair while I watch the game,” Niall says
rolling his eyes fondly then transfixing them back on the field where
someone on the team just kicked the ball. “Want some nachos?” Niall asks,
holding them in Harry’s direction, not taking his eyes off the game. Harry
takes one and eats it, begrudgingly admitting to himself that the cheesy
snack is pretty good. Then Harry pulls out his book. This is going to be a
long evening.
Almost two hours later, and Harry’s gaze has never left the field, his book
laying long forgotten on the bleacher beside him. It’s not that he is
interested in the sport, perse, just interested in the way Louis plays the
sport. He is pretty sure he could watch Louis run all damn day and never
get tired of the sight of those powerful legs and his plump ass taking him
across the field. The skin tight football pants are an added bonus,
extenuating every muscle, dimple, and curve in the most enticing way.
Harry may or may not have been concealing a boner for the past hour.
The game has been pretty gruesome thus far, from what Harry has been able
to gather from Niall. He wasn’t asking questions. He wasn’t. The score has
been close the entire time, with the Rebels leading by a few points. The
other team has also progressively gotten more aggressive with their defense,
a yellow flag being thrown almost every play, Niall referring to the second
half as ‘laundry day’ whatever the fuck that means. Yes, Harry now knows
what a yellow flag means, thank you very much. He worries for Louis’
safety, and, again, questions why anyone would want to watch such a
barbaric sport, let alone play one.
“And the ball is snapped,” the announcer’s loud booming voice says over
the intercom system. Harry has mostly been tuning them out, since they
don’t help him to understand what it is going on. They talk too fast and use
too much sports jargon for Harry to ever keep up. “Morgan is looking for an
opening, he’s found one, he throws it deep to Tomlinson who is in the red
zone. Tomlinson catches it. Go! Go! Go! Ohhhh, he’s tackled, hard. That
had to hurt. Where’s the flag? Tomlinson’s not getting up.”
Harry stops listening as all of the blood rushes to his ears. Almost of their
own accord, his knees unbend as he rises from his seat, attempting to get a
better look at Louis who is still laying on the ground. Harry feels sick as he
replays the image of Louis getting hit by a guy twice his size, his head
snapping to the side while his right ankle bends at an awkward angle. Harry
kind of registers Niall’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing it, too wrapped up
in making sure Louis is okay. He’s okay, right? He has to be okay. It feels
like time is standing still as Harry watches helplessly from the bleachers
while the head coach, the athletic trainer, and a few teammates crowd
around Louis’ seemingly lifeless form. They are all leaning over him, hands
in different areas, keeping his helmet on.
“He’s okay, right, Ni? He’s gotta be okay,” Harry says, wincing at the
pleading sound in his voice. He doesn’t take his eyes off Louis for a second
as he asks the question, too afraid he would miss something, but Louis,
from what he can tell between the limbs of the others, is still laying on the
ground. He swallows hard, trying to tell the one nacho that he ate that it
does not want to meet the world again. He just can’t believe this is
happening.
“I’m sure he’s fine, H,” Niall responds, squeezing his shoulder again, but
Harry can hear the worry lacing his words, which makes his heart drop.
Liam looks at them then with a small worried smile. Harry tries to return it,
glad that Liam seems to know that they are at least worried. After what
feels like an eternity, when it is probably a matter of seconds, Harry sees
Louis’ arm finally, finally move. Thank the gods. Harry lets out a breath he
hadn’t even realized he was holding at the sight, relief flooding his veins
like the first spark of sunlight on a rainy day. Louis immediately grips his
ankle, though, and Harry feels sick again. It doesn’t look broken, but Harry
is no medical professional.
They finally remove his helmet, Harry can just spot his brown hair matted
down with sweat through the various legs. Harry watches helplessly as the
athletic trainer bends to examine his ankles, Louis grimacing when she
pokes and prods, clearly in discomfort. When two people bring out a
stretcher from the side lines and move Louis onto it, Harry’s body begins
shaking. Louis is hurt. Fuck. Harry just wants to run down to the field to be
with him, but he can’t. That is the most frustrating thing about this whole
fucking thing. The secrecy. He can’t show how much he cares, and if he
does, it has to be in a ‘bro’ way and not in a ‘I will suck your dick’ way. He
holds his breath as he watches them carry Louis off the field, tightening his
hands into fists, wanting nothing more than to go into the ambulance with
him.
Suddenly, an idea forms in his head. It may be crazy, and they will be
fucked if he gets caught, however he has to try. He just has to. “I’ve gotta
go,” he mummers to Niall, his whole body feeling numb, but it helps now
that he has a goal. He does not listen to Niall’s protest as he pulls his arm
out of Niall’s grip and runs down the bleachers. He just needs to get to
Louis.
___________
“Mr. Tomlinson, it seems that you have suffered an ankle sprain and a mild
concussion. You will need to be on crutches for a week, and probably won’t
be able to play in next week's game.” Louis almost protest, but his mom
squeezes his hand in a silent gesture to be quiet and listen to the doctor.
“When you got hit, your blood pressure dropped, which paired with the
head injury, caused you to pass out. We want to keep you in overnight for
observation, but I’m sure you’ll be right as rain by tomorrow.”
Right as rain? Why is rain right? Louis has a headache and doesn’t really
want to try to understand the phrase. There is nothing right about this
situation. He has been here for an hour, the game long done. He has been
poked and prodded by nurses and doctors. He has had a CT scan and been
given meds. His mom told him that their team won, which is a relief, but he
can’t miss the next game. They need him. He has a headache from hell, and
he feels like shit. He just wants to go to sleep. Well, he kind of wants to see
Harry, but that probably won’t happen, so sleep sounds like the next best
thing right about now. Instead, he has to listen to this doctor drone on and
on about his ankle x-ray and his head scan. Thankfully they gave him some
Tylenol, so his ankle is no longer throbbing like it was. Small favors.
“I can’t stay with you, Louis. Mark is already asking where I am because
the girls need to be bathed and put to bed. He can’t do it. I’m sorry,
darling,” his mom says, snapping Louis out of his thoughts. He looks
around the room, finding no sight of the doctor. He must have missed him
leave. The hospital that they brought him to is small and looks like the place
where people go to die. It’s the only hospital in town though, so it was his
only option since the ambulance is legally bound to take him to the one
closest one.
“It’s okay, mom,” Louis responds, trying to keep the disappointment from
his tone. It’s not the first time he has been in the hospital, but he doesn’t
want to stay here overnight, alone. Hospitals creep him out. He finds the
sterileness of the environment unsettling and the overly clean smell
disturbing. It suddenly dawns on him that once she leaves, he will be truly
alone. He knows he wished for that before, but not this way. She can’t stay
though, because Mark wouldn’t do anything to take care of his sisters,
leaving that to his wife since it is her work. It is bullshit and annoying, but
Louis can’t do anything about it. He doesn't want to make it harder on his
mom by begging her to stay, so he just nods his head.
“I’m sorry. I wish I could, love. I do, but I can’t. I love you, and I will see
you bright and early tomorrow morning when they discharge you. Call me
if you need anything. I will keep my ringer on tonight just for you.” Jay
smiles reassuringly, but Louis can see the tears behind her blue eyes. He
holds back tears of his own, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat.
He won’t cry. He is eighteen years old. One night in the hospital won’t kill
him. His head just hurts, and his ankle is starting to hurt again. He is a bit
scared, but he takes a deep breath attempting to school his features into one
of confidence. Harry is alone all the time, it seems, surely Louis can spend
ten hours alone without freaking out.
“I know, Mom. Love you, too. Go take care of the girls.” Louis is proud
that his voice doesn’t crack with the statement. She gives him one last smile
and hugs him tight.
“Sleep well, Boobear.” She blows a kiss and shuts off the light, only leaving
the bathroom light on. She waves one last time as she walks out the door,
shutting it behind her. Louis sighs and rubs his eyes, looking around for his
phone. He has no idea where his mom put it, but he needs it. He needs to
tell Harry that he is okay and not to worry about him. He sees his phone
laying across the room, sitting on top of the window sill where he can’t
reach in his current place. It’s like the damn thing is taunting him.
Reminding him of his own misfortune.
He wants to cry, but he won’t. Instead, he carefully maneuvers so his legs

are hanging off the side of the bed, facing the window. It is dark out, the
only light is coming from the bathroom, casting the room in shadows. He
can see the LED notification light blinking with probably a million
messages and missed calls. It is only a few steps. It probably won’t hurt that
bad. He hisses out in pain as he puts a small amount of weight on his bad
ankle, feeling a cool breeze hit his bare back and underwear clad bum as he
gets fully off the bed. Stupid hospital gowns.
“Baby. I don’t think you should be doing that,” a deep voice says from
behind him then, making his heart feel like it is about to burst from chest
and run down the hallway. He probably would have jumped had it not been
for his bum ankle. He tries to get his heart to settle down, as his brain
registers who that voice belongs to. It can’t though. How would he have
gotten in? He slowly turns around to find Harry, smiling at him. It’s small,
and Louis can barely see it in the dimness of the room, but he is smiling. He
also looks worried, his dark brows drawn, a slight frown on his handsome
face.
“Harry! You scared the hell out of me! How did you get here?” Louis
whisper shouts, not wanting to alarm the nurses. He clutches his chest, and
tries to close the hospital gown in the back, but it’s no use. Harry has
already seen. It’s not like Harry hasn’t seen him partly naked at this point,
but for some reason he feels embarrassed. Maybe it’s because it’s not in a
sexual way.
“I thought I put hell in you and payback's a bitch,” Harry says with a smirk,
referring to the two separate occasions Louis had scared him. Harry
continues, “And it doesn’t matter. Let’s get you back in bed.” Harry takes
two long steps towards him and grabs his arm. His hand is warms as it
settles into the crook of Louis’ elbow. Louis is startled when Harry doesn’t
just push him on the bed, instead, he just picks him up, bridal style and
places him gently on the crappy hospital mattress. Louis doesn’t protest,
just wraps his arms around Harry’s neck, trusting him not to drop him.
“There,” Harry says, covering Louis’ legs and tucking him in. He then
grabs Louis’ phone figuring out what Louis was after in the first place and
hands it Louis. Louis glances down at it, swiping away the missed calls
because who the fuck calls people in this day and age? He replies to both
Niall and Liam quickly, but ignores all other notifications because Harry is
in his room. Harry is looking at him with worry still marring his lovely
features. Louis wants to reach up and smooth over the worry lines between
Harry’s brows, so he does. It is nice not having to worry about people
seeing them interact. Not having to second guess everything they do, afraid
it will be interpreted as ‘too gay’.
“Harry, how did you get here? You don’t even have a car,” Louis asks again
lowering his hand. Even though he just touched him, he is still not able to
believe Harry is standing there in his hospital room. He doesn’t have to be
alone. Well at least not right now, but Harry would have to leave eventually.
“Walked,” Harry answers, with a shrug, as if it is no big deal.

“That’s like five miles, Harry, and it’s cold out. You can’t be serious,” Louis
exclaims at Harry’s unbelievable statement. He walked here. Why would he
do that? Now Louis is worried that Harry is going to get sick, walking five
fucking miles in the cold.
“Sorry it took so long,” Harry replies with a wide smile, seemingly quite
proud of his joke. At least, Louis thinks he is joking. He hasn’t gotten a
good idea of Harry’s sense of humor, yet, not getting enough glimpses of it
under all of the all around moodiness. He knows he likes puns, and it can be
slightly corny. Harry also gets sarcasm, which Louis appreciates. Louis
can’t be friends with someone who doesn’t get sarcasm.
“Why?”
“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” Harry says it like it’s not a big
deal, but to Louis it is a huge deal. A step. A step in the right direction for
Harry, finally. Maybe they will no longer do the tango or some equally
outdated dance. Maybe they can start moving forward, towards college
where they can maybe, just maybe, be a little bit more free.
“You were worried about me!?” Louis exclaims, letting a huge smile take
over his features. He hates that he worried Harry, but he is also kind of glad
that Harry came to check on him. It makes a warmness take over his chest,
spreading to his aching body parts.
Harry just shrugs sticking his hands deep in his tight pockets, but the blush
taking over his features is answer enough. Louis feels like he can’t contain
it anymore, so he scoots over on the bed, patting the spot beside him. Harry
looks hesitant, so he pats it again. “Come on. Come lay with me,” Louis
pouts, trying to get the other boy to give in. After what feels like a lifetime,
Louis is starting to think he is going to get rejected, but finally, Harry toes
off his shoes and gets in the small bed beside him, wrapping Louis in his
arms tightly, as if he is afraid to let go. His big hand comes to settle in
Louis’ hair, running his long fingers through the strands over and over. It is
soothing and it’s making Louis sleepy.
“I’m sorry I scared you,” Louis apologizes after a few moments, his voice
breaking the quietness that has settled over the room, popping their warm
bubble. Louis feels Harry stiffen, as he waits for him to deny the comment.
He knows he scared Harry, though. Harry wouldn’t have looked so worried
and wouldn’t be holding him as if Louis is about to slip through his fingers
at any moment if he wasn’t scared. Louis tightens his hold around Harry’s
waist, resting his head on his chest, trying to reassure the other boy that he
isn’t going anywhere. Harry smells like vanilla, and Louis takes a deep
breath, trying to commit it to memory.
“What did the doctor say?” Harry asks, clearly changing the subject, but
Louis lets him. He goes on to tell Harry everything the doctor told him and
his mom earlier, ending with the fact that he will be on crutches for the
upcoming week, and he may have to miss the next playoff game. As he says
it, he lets Harry’s warmth seep into his bones, feeling content for the first
time since he arrived at the hospital. Harry’s large hand is a constant
presence on his bare back as he rubs small, smoothing circles into his skin,
letting Louis say everything he has to say.
“I’m sorry. I know you want to play,” Harry says after he quietly listens to
the whole story, running his fingers through Louis’ hair again. Louis fiddles
with the words on Harry’s shirt, tracing them with his finger over and over
again. Harry looks relaxed like this, with Louis in his arms. Louis decides
it’s a good look for him. They both jump when they hear the door knob start
to turn, panic rising in Louis’ chest threatening to suffocate him. This can’t
be happening. They are going to be caught, and Harry is going to be kicked
out. Whoever it is is going to say they found Louis cuddling with some boy
in his hospital room, and it will be over for him. He won’t have to worry
about a sprained ankle and concussion when Mark is finished with him.
They freeze exactly how they are, wrapped up in each other’s arms as they
watch the door slowly open. If they are going to die, at least it will be in
each other’s arms Louis supposes. He can feel Harry holding his breath,
Louis doing the same.
“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to to interrupt,” a nurse stumbles out when
she sees them both in the bed. “I was just coming into make sure that you
are okay.”
“I’m fine, and you didn’t interrupt anything.” Louis is quick to say, limbs
springing into action as he pulls out of Harry’s hold. Harry looks scared,
teetering on the fence of staying on the bed and jumping off to run from the
room. It seems the former wins out, but his one foot is still on the floor as if
he is ready.
“No need to explain. I’ll leave you to it,” she responds, dark hair shaking
with the movement of her head. She has both hands raised in the air, palms
facing towards them as she slowly starts to back out of the room, pink
scrubs gleaming in the low light.
“You’re not gonna tell my parents are you?” Louis blurts out, stopping her
in her tracks.
“Oh no, that would be a HIPPA Violation. You could sue me. You’re 18,
and you are are allowed to have any visitors you want with your
permission. Just buzz me if you need anything,” she says with a wink, then
she leaves the room, Louis and Harry nodding dumbly as they watch her go.
They both let out a collective sigh of relief when the door clicks shut, then
start laughing because what else is there to do? The whole thing scared the
fuck out of them, but now it seems funny in retrospect. They technically did
get caught, but Louis feels lucky to have found the one open minded nurse
in this town. He has no idea what HIPPA is, but he needs to thank it. He
feels Harry shake beside him with his laughter. He doesn't think he has ever
heard Harry laugh so much, and it really is the most lovely sound Louis has
ever experienced.
After a few moments of laughing, Harry wipes the tears from his eyes, then
his gaze lands on Louis with a look Louis can’t quite figure out. Time
seems to stand still as Harry continues to stare at him, seemingly deciding
something. Louis releases a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding
when Harry is on him, sealing their lips together in a kiss. It is heated and
desperate, as if Harry wants to memorize every feature of Louis face, every
taste of Louis’ lips. Louis loves how confident Harry has gotten with their
kisses, now taking the lead, his large hand coming up to rest on Louis’
cheek. Louis probably shouldn’t do anything sexual with a concussion, but
his dick seems to not have gotten the memo as it starts fattening with
Harry’s attention. Plus, the doctor said nothing about a hospital hand job
from a devastatingly hot boy. Right?
“Haz, take off your pants; I’ve got an idea,” Louis says, breaking their kiss.
He looks in Harry’s eyes which are glazed and blown wide even in the dim
light. His red lips are glistening with spit, and for a second it seems that he
is not going to do it, which is disappointing, but Louis would understand.
Finally, Harry just nods then stands up, making quick work of the button
and zipper of his jeans. He pushes his too tight pants down his thighs, his
hard cock springing free. Fuck. Louis loves his cock. He almost forgets his
plan and just starts sucking Harry right then and there, but he wants to kiss
Harry as they both get off. Louis pulls at his hospital gown, easily pulling
the item over his head, then off goes his underwear, now fully naked under
the scratchy covers. Harry watches him with hooded eyes, then pulls off his
own black band t-shirt, leaving his jewelry on, the silver of his necklace
gleaming in the low light.
Fuck. What Harry was hiding under that shirt was nothing short of glorious.
His pale skin is stretched over lean muscles, with dusky pink nipples. Louis
spots two discolored areas below each nipple, but isn’t sure what they are.
He wants to find out though. He licks his lips, now desperate to get his
mouth on the skin. To mark it. Harry has just the slightest love handles on
his hips, perfect for gripping and biting. Louis’ mouth waters with the
thought. Holy shit. Does Harry know how perfect he is? How
breathtakingly beautiful he is? Louis doesn’t think Harry is aware though,
but makes a silent promise to himself to compel Harry to understand.
“Get in bed with me,” Louis says, laying on his side and patting the spot
next to him, holding open the covers for Harry to crawl under. Harry does
so quickly, as if he is afraid to lose his nerve. As soon as Harry is close
enough, Louis molds their bodies together and traps Harry’s warm mouth in
another heated kiss. He wants nothing more than to devour the boy. His
beautiful boy. He hisses when he registers that Harry’s hard dick is pressed
against his own. Harry is rutting his hips slowly, groaning into their kiss.
The friction is just a tiny bit rough and perfect in every way. Louis is almost
sure he could come like this. His head feels light, but he thinks it has
nothing to do with the concussion and everything to do with Harry.
“That’s it, love. Fuck. Feels so good,” Louis encourages, moving his own
hips to meet Harry’s thrusts, causing his balls to tighten. He then takes
Harry’s large hand and kisses each knuckle. He looks into Harry’s eyes as
he takes each finger into his warm mouth, only stopping when his lips touch
the cool metal of Harry’s rings. He sucks on the digits greedily, wanting to
get them wet. Harry moans low and deep, almost as if the sound is ripped
from his chest, as he closes his eyes and thrusts harder against Louis. Louis
needs to get this show on the road because he feels like his dick is going to
explode at any moment.
After getting his fingers sufficiently wet, Louis kisses his palm one last time
then guides it down between them, wrapping Harry’s long fingers around
both of their lengths. He takes Harry’s wrist, and begins moving his hand in
an up and down motion much like Halloween night. His breath hitches in
pleasure with the action, Harry's’ warm hand wrapped around them, his
hard length pressed against his own. Harry is a quick learner, bless him, and
catches on with record speed, his grip becoming firmer, his movements
steadier. Louis’ eyes roll back into his head when he feels Harry thumb over
the tip of his dick to use the precome spurting from their tips to better ease
the glide.
“Shit. Gods. This feels… fuck,” Harry mummers into Louis’ ear, voice low
and sexy, sending chills down Louis’ spine. Louis does the only thing he
can think to do at the current moment, he kisses him. Their teeth clack
together with the force of it, but neither of them seem to care, chasing their
own orgasms. Louis pulls Harry tighter, not wanting an inch of their bodies
to be separated as their legs tangle further together. Louis forgets that they
are in a hospital bed. He forgets that they could get caught at any moment
by a nurse or his own mother. He is too busy drowning in Harry’s warmth,
his smell, his fucking skin. Everything.
“‘M close,” Harry mumbles into Louis’ mouth, and Louis just grips his hair
tightly, another spark of pleasure going straight to his balls with the words.
He pulls back, wanting to see Harry’s face when he comes. He didn’t really
get that chance last time, too busy with a dick down his throat to get a really
good view, not that he was complaining about the view. Harry’s eyes are
closed and his mouth his open in bliss when Louis feels the first spurt of hot
liquid hit his chest.
“That’s it, darling,” Louis whispers, biting Harry’s chiseled jaw feeling his
whole body tense when another ribbon is released, making them both
sticky. It feels like it is burning Louis’ skin, but he doesn’t want it to stop.
He will gladly deal with burning alive if it means he can be with Harry. He
is close himself, but he wants to watch Harry fall over the edge, wants to
catch him at the bottom.
“Want your come to mix with mine,” Harry says, continuing his pace even
though Louis knows he is sensitive from just having orgasmed. Louis looks
down between them, being met with the sight of Harry’s big ringed hand
wrapped around both of their cocks, Harry’s still semi hard. Fuck. That
sends Louis over the edge into oblivion as he comes all over his and Harry’s
chests, mixing with what Harry has already put there. They kiss lazily for a
few moments afterwards, catching their breath, just enjoying the rare alone
time that they’ve been given. Louis’ head is throbbing though, so maybe
coming after a concussion wasn’t the best of ideas, but he regrets nothing.
When Harry breaks their kiss and reaches to the bedside table, Louis notices
a mark he left on Harry’s jaw, probably when Harry was coming. It is small,
red, and perfect on Harry’s pale skin. Louis smiles to himself, ridiculously
happy to have laid claim to Harry in someway, even though it could never
be public. They could never be public. He pushes that unpleasant thought
away, as Harry begins to wipe himself off, not touching Louis. Louis is
about to say something, but chokes on the words when Harry bows down to
lick their mixed releases off of Louis chest. Louis’ spent dick twitches in
interest as he feels Harry’s wet tongue licking, and his red lips sucking
every single drop marring Louis’ skin. Holy shit. He didn’t know Harry
would like the taste of come so much, but Louis is here for it. After Louis is
clean from every speck of come, Harry gets out of the bed to grab Louis’
underwear and throws them to him then pulls on his own.
“Stay for a little while longer?” Louis asks when he sees Harry go for his
shirt. He hates that he asked, but he just doesn’t want to be alone. His head
is hurting again and his ankle is starting to throb now that the adrenaline has
worn off. He just wants to be held.
“Yeah. I can stay,” Harry responds, lowering the bed with the remote on the
side so that it is mostly laying flat. He climbs back in the small bed and
holds his arms open wide. Louis doesn’t think twice before he burrows
himself into them, laying his head on Harry’s chest. Harry chuckles then
covers them both up with his hand coming to run through Louis’ hair. This
is the first time Louis has ever slept with anyone. Like real sleep. He
usually sneaks back home after they fuck, but this feels different somehow.
They didn’t even have sex, but Louis thinks he may be able to get used to
this. Falling asleep in Harry’s arms. He has no idea if he will ever get the
opportunity again, so he tries to soak it up, like a flower on a sunny day.
“Won’t your mom be worried?” Louis murmurs, voice muffled by Harry’s

chest. He can feel his eyelids getting heavier, a mixture of the orgasm and
the incredibly long day pulling him under, but he wants to stay present. He
wants to remember this moment forever, bask in it because it may never
happen again. He feels like he will be missing something if he lets his eyes
close and succumbs to sleep.
“She won’t even notice,” Harry replies, and Louis is too tired to question
that. His brain feels foggy, and his limbs feel heavy, however he needs to
say one more thing.
“My mom will be here at 8 am…” He lets his sentence trail off, unsure of
where he was going to take it.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be gone. Go to sleep, baby,” Harry responds kissing him
on the forehead, and Louis smiles, glad Harry was able to read his mind.
Harry tightens his arms, and Louis burrows in deeper, inhaling his scent.
Maybe hospitals aren’t so bad after all.
__________
“Alright, let’s get started on some of the songs for the Christmas Concert,”
Mr. Tennant says, clapping his hands excitedly. Harry rolls his eyes, already
annoyed. It is the Monday after Louis’ accident, and Louis said he would be
at school. He isn’t there yet, and Harry is more worried than he wants to
admit. His eyes keep wandering over to the door, expecting it to open and
Louis to emerge, but it hasn’t yet. Louis seemed fine when Harry left the
hospital the morning after sleeping together. It was honestly the best sleep
Harry had gotten in years despite the too small bed. Harry found that he
enjoyed the feeling of Louis’ body on his chest. They woke up in a
spooning position, Louis’ chest pressed against Harry’s back. Harry didn’t
know he would enjoy being the little spoon, but he did.
It was awkward, at first, when they had awoken, groggy and disoriented.
Harry could tell Louis was in a lot of pain, even though he tried his best to
mask it. Harry knew the other boy better than that, but didn’t say anything
not wanting to hurt his pride. Harry put on his clothes, and they kissed
goodbye as Harry snuck out of Louis’ room, Jay being due there any
minute. Harry actually passed her in the hallway and hoped she didn’t
recognize him from the game. If she did, she didn’t say anything. He and
Louis had texted throughout the weekend, Harry wanting to make sure
Louis was doing okay. Louis’ little sisters apparently couldn’t wait to tell
him they had seen Harry at the game, and told him all about it as soon as
they caught sight of him on Saturday morning, after making sure he was
okay, of course. That made Harry smile, although he would never admit it
to Louis.
“It’s a Holiday Concert,” Harry corrects after Mr. Tennant refers to it as a

‘Christmas’ concert yet again. When the rest of the class sighs at his
statement, he has the sudden urge to flip everyone in this small minded
town off. Is it really that difficult to be inclusive? They would be
completely offended if someone referred to it as the ‘Hanukkah Concert’ or
the ‘Yule Concert’. They would probably riot and burn down the school if
anyone had even tried to call it that.
“Harry’s right. It should be a Holiday Concert.” Harry hears Louis’ raspy

voice say, and his head whips around to find the person the voice belongs
to. Louis is stood in the doorway of the classroom, every student in the
class training their eyes on him. He is perched on silver crutches, books
somehow grasped in his small hand as he uses both to get to his seat. He
looks tired and worn down, and it isn’t even their first period. He sits down
carefully, and leans the adorably short crutches on the table behind him,
blowing his hair out of his eyes. He looks like he doesn't care today. Harry
knows that look well, he sports if often enough.
Mr. Tennant doesn’t comment on Louis’ tardiness since he has an obvious

reason why, or his comment. He does start calling it a Holiday Concert
though, and for that Harry is pleased. The teacher moves on to the lesson,
having them all sing the first song of their Holiday Concert in
synchronization. Even though all of their voices are blending together,
harmonizing with one another, Harry can still pick out the unique sound of
Louis’ voice. The raspy quality making their performance just a little bit
fuller and stronger. If they didn’t have him, it would feel incomplete
somehow. It is weird to Harry how incomplete everything in his life would
feel without Louis. It is also alarming. Louis has just woven himself
seamlessly into Harry’s life to the point where Harry hadn’t even noticed
until it was too late.
When Mr. Tennant moves on to working with just the Altos of the room,
Harry pulls out the book that he brought with him, starting in on the place
he left off last night when he stopped reading. He glances up to find Louis
staring at him, a curious look on his face. Harry makes a mental note to ask
him about it and continues reading, getting lost in the book in a matter of
seconds, completely ignoring everyone around him. Harry stays that way
until the class ends, no one paying him any attention. Save for Louis.
“Hey. Let me carry your books for you,” Harry says, going up to Louis after
class is dismissed, watching as he winces when he stands to place his
crutches under his arms. It physically hurts Harry. He doesn't like to see
Louis so hurt, but he also knows this will be a delicate subject for Louis. He
just wants to take care of him, though.
“Nah. I got it,” Louis replies, eyeing Harry with confusion. Harry knows it
is a bit weird for him to want to do kind things for other people, but he
wants to with Louis. He has this uncontrollable desire to help him. His
fingers itch with it. If Louis asked him, Harry would probably carry him to
class on his back, so he didn’t have to move.
“Come on, Lou. Your hands aren’t big enough. Let me help. Please?” Harry
reasons, giving Louis a pleading look.
“No, Haz,” Louis sighs, but Harry can tell he is wearing him down. He
looks even more tired as he stands with his crutches, trying to figure out the
best way to arrange his books so that he can do both. It’s a miracle that he
managed the first time, and Harry doesn’t believe in miracles. Maybe it was
more like defying physics or something.
“Please?” Harry asks again, eyes pleading with the request. Louis must
have found something there because he sighs and hands his books over to
Harry. Harry can see him trying to conceal his smile as he does so, and
Harry wants to kiss him. He doesn’t though. Instead, he grabs the stack of
books in one large hand and puts them with is brown leather journal. He
never carries anything with him except his journal, a pen, a book to read for
pleasure, and maybe a notebook.
“What are you reading?” Louis asks, changing the subject and glancing
down at Harry’s hands.
“Oh. The first Harry Potter book. I decided to restart the series for like the
fourth time,” Harry answers with a shrug, but doesn’t miss the curious look
on Louis’ face.
“I’m not allowed to read those,” Louis responds after a few moments. Harry
consciously makes his steps shorter and pace slower because Louis already
has short legs, and he is on crutches. Louis seems to be fairing okay with
them, only wincing with every few steps.
“Why not?” Harry asks, genuinely confused by the admission. Harry does
his best to ignore the confused stares and murmured whispers from their
classmates as they make their way towards Louis’ locker.
“Because it teaches witchcraft, according to Mark. Well, it was fine, but

Mark watched some preacher on TV. That preacher said not to let your kids
anywhere near it because it teaches witchcraft,” Louis says, and he sounds
like he almost believes it, almost .
“What the fuck? That is the most ignorant thing I have ever heard.”
“Well it does, doesn’t it? Like isn’t it about witchcraft?” Louis asks, getting
up to his locker and starting to put in the combination. His cheeks are red,
and Harry isn’t sure if it’s from exertion or their conversation. Harry is
going to go with both.
“Louis, it’s a children’s book,” Harry says because that should be answer
enough to Louis’ question.
“Yeah, but isn’t it like… evil?” There is a hesitance in Louis’ tone that
wasn’t there before. He glances at Harry, taking the books from Harry’s
hand to exchange the ones he doesn’t need while balancing on his good leg.
“No. ‘Course not. They are children’s books about the battle between good
and evil. In fact, there are Christian themes heavily embedded throughout.
You should read them,” Harry tries, taking the books that Louis gives him.
“I shouldn’t. I’m not allowed, and well…” Louis’ sentence trails off as if he
doesn’t have any other good excuse.
“Think about it, Lou. Why is religion so fragile that it won’t allow you to
read a children’s book about good versus evil? Why is it so weak that it is
afraid if you read that children’s book, you would no longer believe?” Harry
watches Louis, seeing him deliberate Harry’s points in his own head. Harry
knows that look quite well now, and it is beginning to be his favorite Louis
look. Louis changes the subject, and Harry allows it as they walk the rest of
the way to class.
Chapter End Notes
Heaven Nor Hell
Chapter Summary
Harry and Louis enjoy some extra curriculars at school, and Louis
insists on Harry joining them for Thanksgiving.
Chapter Notes
Holding onto his words, but baby
I saw an angel become the devil
Still they walk pretty good hand in hand
Well baby, I don't need any of them
Heaven nor hell- Volbeat

“We really shouldn’t be doing this,” Harry says, his low voice echoing off
the walls in the dark back stairwell of the school, but returns Louis’ kiss
despite his words. Louis breaks the kiss, the sucking sound bouncing off the
walls in random directions. He quickly puts his mouth on Harry’s neck,
replacing the hickey that had faded from the hospital room just over a week
ago.
“Shut up,” Louis mumbles, words muffled by Harry’s neck. Harry’s eyes
roll back in his head with a particularly sharp bite, cock stirring in his too
tight jeans. Harry’s vocal cords, of their own accord, release a low moan.
He has found that he likes a little bit of pain. Not shocking, but now he
knows.
“What if someone sees us?” Harry asks, voice needy and desperate. He is
starting to get hard, Louis grinding against him and and sucking marks into
his neck isn’t helping him in the slightest. Then Louis removes his mouth to
fucking smirk at him, and Harry’s knees almost give out right then and
there.
“That’s what makes it fun,” Louis responds, going back to his task of
marking Harry’s neck. Harry is now so unbelievably hard it is making him
dizzy. He had no idea what he was thinking when he agreed to meet Louis
during their free period. He should have known nothing good could come of
it. He is just terrified of someone seeing. Then they would know . He and
Louis would no longer be allowed to be together, and Louis’ family would
probably move him immediately.
“I know you’re upset that you all lost on Friday, and you blame yourself
because you couldn’t play due to your ankle injury. This isn’t the way to fix
that though, Louis,” Harry reasons, his hands traveling down to grope
Louis’ round ass because they have a mind of their fucking own. Louis
moans with the action, rubbing his own erection against Harry’s again.
Harry feels like he is going to die.
“I thought you were a bad boy who doesn’t care. We both have a free
period; they won’t even notice we’re gone. Don’t you wanna fuck around at
school?” When Harry gives him an unimpressed look, Louis rolls his eyes,
but breaks. “Fine, I am a bit, I don’t know, bummed I guess about not being
able to play. My ankle was feeling better, but the damn coach and athletic
trainer still made me sit out. I just feel like we would have won if I had
played, and I let my team down,” Louis finally says, his tone sad.
Harry’s heart breaks just a tiny bit with the admission, his arms coming to
wrap tightly around Louis, trying to show him that it doesn't matter to him
if he couldn’t play football. Harry may never understand the
competitiveness or the sport in general, but it obviously means a lot to
Louis, therefore he refrains for making a sarcastic remark about how it’s
just a sport and doesn't matter who wins and loses. He thinks about what he
wants to say, knowing he needs to tread carefully with this. “You can’t
focus on the what if’s, baby, you may have lost regardless of if you were
playing or not. You should be so proud that you all made it to the playoffs
in the first place. It’s amazing, and you said yourself you have already been
scouted by college teams. That’s gotta count for something, right?”
“Yeah, you’re right, I guess. I’m sorry. We don’t have do anything here if
you don’t want to. I just wanted something to take my mind off of it, but it’s
not fair to you,” Louis sighs, kissing Harry on the cheek right where his left
dimple would be if he had been smiling. He feels like Louis likes kissing
that spot on purpose, as if wanting to give it a reason to appear.
“Don’t apologize. You know I enjoy-- umm-- what we do,” Harry finishes
lamely, cheeks heating up with the admission. He knows Louis would never
force him to do something he isn’t comfortable with. He knows he can say
no, and Louis would be perfectly content to just make out or even just talk
for the rest of their free period, however he kind of wants to. The thought of
the possibility of getting caught sends a thrill down Harry’s spine, making
his cock twitch with interest. They could. Nobody would ever know. No
one uses this stairwell ever, thinking it's haunted, so the chances of them
actually getting caught are slim to none. They certainly wouldn’t be the first
people to fuck around on school grounds, so is it really that bad of an idea?
Probably not.
“Oh yeah,” Louis challenges, smirk returning in full force, blue eyes
gleaming in the low light. “Tell me how much.” Harry wants to show him
rather than tell him, so without thinking, Harry hoists Louis up, the shorter
boy bringing his legs to wrap around Harry’s hips instinctively. Louis lets
out an adorable little shriek before Harry swallows it with his mouth. He
slams Louis against the opposite wall, taking them more into the darkness
of the underside of the stairwell. He knocks the breath out of Louis, but
takes it into himself, keeping one hand firmly on Louis’ ass, the other
coming up to cup his jaw, deepening their kiss.
“Fuck, Harry,” Louis whispers into his mouth, tightening his legs even
more and grinding his hips down. Harry reacts by pushing him that much
harder against wall, grinding back. If they don’t cut this out, Harry is going
to come in his pants which will be all kinds of bad given he still has two
more classes and work to get through. Louis’ hands are tangled in Harry’s
curls as Harry continues to kiss him, their tongues battling for dominance.
Harry really wants to taste Louis. Feels like he has to, but he has never done
it before. Before he can second guess himself, he taps Louis’ hip, a silent
signal for Louis to drop to the ground. Louis obliges quickly, but doesn’t
remove his lips from Harry’s, using his grip in Harry’s hair to make him
lean down.
“Wanna taste you,” Harry says between kisses, cheeks burning with the
admission. Thankfully Louis probably can’t see, their faces shadowed by
the stairway above.
“You don’t have to,” Louis whispers, being aware of how inexperienced
Harry is. Harry knows Louis would never make him do something he was
uncomfortable with, which makes him want to do it that much more. His
mouth waters with the thought of Having Louis on his tongue. He is afraid
he will suck at it, and not in the way he is supposed to, but there is only one
way to find out, he supposes. Without replying, Harry drops to his knees in
front of Louis, the cool tile of the floor hard under them.
“I know, but I want to,” Harry whispers, looking up at Louis. Louis just
nods, mouth open in surprise. Harry then gets to work popping the button
on Louis’ jeans, then unzipping them slowly, the sound echoing in the
darkness around them. He doesn’t pull them down or off, but reaches into
the waistband of Louis’ briefs and tugs them down a bit, allowing his cock
to spring free. He tucks the elastic right under Louis’ balls, trying to decide
the best way to do this. He feels overwhelmed, like he has a big task in
front of him, pun intended, and he simply doesn’t know where to start.
“It’s okay, love. Take your time. There’s no rush,” Louis says, voice high
and raspy. Harry’s quickly beating heart does a flip at the term of
endearment, still not used to someone calling him anything but ‘weird’ or
‘freak’. Louis’ small fingers come to tangle in Harry’s curls, scratching his
scalp in a somewhat soothing manner. Harry closes his eyes for a second,
soaking in the kindness radiating off of Louis. The understanding. When he
opens them again, he is met with Louis’ hard, leaking cock. Even in the
semi-darkness, he can see it twitching in interest. He takes a deep breath,
trying to calm his racing heart and his own hard on that is currently painful
and throbbing. He decides to start by touching Louis, taking his hard length
in his hand. He has done this before, so that’s not all that scary. He
remembers how it feels on his palm and is reacquainted with that now.
Warm and heavy.
“You’re so beautiful.” He hears Louis whisper into the quietness, almost as

if he didn’t mean to say it outloud. That gives Harry the confidence he
needs to poke out his tongue and kitten lick the tip of Louis’ cock, right
over the slit, listening as Louis hisses out a breath. Harry has tasted Louis’
come before, on more than one occasion, but it is addictive. It almost tastes
better coming straight from the source, so he wraps his lips around the head.
It must have been the correct thing to do, judging by Louis’ moan and the
tightening of his fingers in Harry’s hair.
“That’s perfect, love,” Louis rasps, squirming a bit when Harry starts
sinking down, taking him deeper into his mouth until he reaches his gag
reflex. Like he remembers Louis doing on Halloween night, what he can’t
reach he takes in his hand, gripping tightly. He pulls back up and swirls his
tongue around the head to get another taste before he sinks back down,
repeating the motion again and again. He can feel his confidence growing
with every moan, groan, and growl he pulls from Louis, as if he is actually
doing a halfway decent job.
“Oh my God, Harry. Feels so good.” Harry would make a comment about
God if he didn’t have a cock shoved in his mouth, so he is just going to let it
slide. Literally, he is now sliding Louis’ shaft in and out of his mouth,
sucking hard with each withdrawal. Louis seems to not be able to stay still,
his legs squirming around, his fingers gripping tight, his hips thrusting
subtlety. He is acting like Harry is driving him mad with need, which makes
Harry want to work that much harder. He wants Louis to come. He feels
like he needs it.
“Fuck. Shit,” Louis chokes out when Harry grazes Louis’ tight balls with
one long finger while simultaneously tightening his lips and sucking hard.
Louis’ hips buck almost of their own accord when Harry sinks down again.
Harry’s eyes water, but he keeps going, not minding the feeling of being
gagged just a bit. Not when what he is being gagged by tastes like heaven
and feels close to perfect on his tongue. Harry freezes with Louis cock deep
in his throat when they hear the door to the stairwell open loudly.
Neither of them make a sound or even breathe as they listen, hoping that
they don’t get caught. Harry’s cock gets impossibly harder in his jeans at
the idea of getting caught though, and he thinks Louis is having the same
thoughts because he can feel his cock twitch in his throat. Harry almost
wants to be mean and start back up, but decides the risk is far too great.
This isn’t some random person catching them in the bathroom of a club.
That would be kind of fun, to tease Louis with. Tell him to be quiet or they
will get caught, but no. This is someone catching them on school property
who would tell Louis’ parents. This is a moment that could tear them apart.
They hear it when the person starts climbing the stairs, the footsteps loud
above them, almost deafening. It’s the only sound Harry can hear over his
own beating heart and the blood not currently in his cock rushing to his
ears. Harry doesn’t think he has taken in a microgram of air since the
mystery person entered the stairwell. Neither boy has moved an inch since
the intruder. Louis’ cock is still in Harry’s mouth, his fingers still tangled in
his dark hair. Harry can feel how tense he is, his body more motionless than
Harry has ever seen it. Louis is always moving. Harry’s own body is tense,
his shoulders stiff, his fingers gripping onto Louis hips, stuck mid motion.
The intruder is slow to go up the stairs, each footstep measured, almost as if
the they want to piss Harry off. Harry just wants to pull off Louis’ cock and
tell them to hurry the fuck up so he can get back to sucking his boyfriend
off. Boyfriend? Now there is a startling thought, but Harry doesn’t have
much time to dwell since he is currently scared shitless.
Both boys visibly relax, and Louis lets out a sigh of relief when they hear
the door to the second floor close, leaving them alone again. Harry looks up
at Louis with wide eyes, asking him if he wants to continue. He probably
looks ridiculous with Louis’ still impossibly hard cock in his mouth, but at
the same time he doesn't want to release it just yet. He likes the way it feels.
Likes his lips being wrapped around it, and it twitching on his tongue. Is it
normal to enjoy giving head this much? He just likes being able to make
Louis come a part just with his mouth. He can’t imagine what actual sex
will be like if they ever get there. He hasn’t really thought about them going
there, though. He feels like he needs to trust someone to give them that part
of himself. While he is starting to trust Louis more, he just isn’t there yet.
“Keep going. ‘M close,” Louis says, bringing Harry back to the present.
Louis leads his hand down to cup Harry’s jaw, moving his head up and
down on his shaft until Harry registers what he said and takes over the
movement with his own muscles. Louis is close. Harry has Louis close to
orgasming. He did that. Holy shit. He doesn't know how he hasn’t come in
his pants yet, because that thought has him teetering on the edge of
oblivion, but he wants Louis to finish. Needs him to, so he goes back to
doing exactly what he had been before they were so rudely interrupted.
“You liked that didn’t you? The idea of being caught,” Louis whispers,
surprising Harry a bit with both the sound of his voice and his words. He
was just not expecting Louis to talk. He hasn’t been, but Harry looks up at
Louis and nods. Despite the low light, Harry can make out Louis’ fucked
out expression. His eyes are hooded, his obscenely long eyelashes casting a
dark shadow on his sharp, freckled cheek bones. His rouge colored lips are
parted as his breaths come out in short huffs. Fuck. Harry feels like he is
seconds away from coming. Even if he wasn’t close before, seeing Louis
look like this would send anyone over the edge.
“Fuck. Knew you would. You would love to be caught with my dick down
your throat. Then they would all know. Know who you belong to.” Holy
shit. Harry has never heard anything so dirty in his life, but he has certainly
read it. He has been reading gay fanfiction since he was fourteen, always
preferring Drarry over almost anything else. He just doesn’t think he would
ever have the courage to say any of his thoughts out loud, however, when
Louis does it, it’s hot as fuck. He kind of wants to cry, but instead he wines
around Louis’ cock, unsure of how else to express how unbelievably turned
on he truly is.
“Fuck. Harry. I’m close. Shit. Pull off. Pull off,” Louis says, grabbing
Harry’s jaw, but Harry stiffens his neck and doesn't pause is sucking as he
looks up at Louis, shaking his head. “Fuck. Love, are you sure?” Louis gets
out, clearly trying to stave off his orgasm for just a few more seconds.
Harry nods, then takes Louis deep, swallowing around the head and that
must be what does it. A moment later, Harry feels it when Louis orgasms,
his entire body tensing around him and his cock twitching as he releases
into Harry’s waiting mouth. Harry moans at the taste coating his mouth, not
even thinking about it as he swallows quickly, telling himself not to fucking
come because he doesn't have a change of clothes.
He feels Louis pull his hair, probably because he is becoming over

sensitive, but Harry just doesn't want to release his new favorite thing.
Louis is addictive. So with one final wet pop, Harry allows Louis to pull his
mouth away and himself up off the floor, only to sink down to his own
knees. Louis is silent as he undoes Harry’s belt, button, and zipper. He
glances down at his watch then looks back up at Harry. “Class is letting out
in five minutes, then this stairway will be flooded with people. Think you
can come in less than five minutes?” He asks, looking up at Harry through
his long eyelashes. Harry comes in three.
_________
“What time do you get off work tonight?” Louis asks, whispering the
question to Harry who is sitting beside him in physics.
“Eight. I’m working with just Willow. Mac is going to be out,” Harry
responds, giving him a small smile. Everyone in the class, including Louis
jumps when a loud bang of thunder followed by a flash of lightning
happens outside.
“How are you getting there?” Louis asks, glancing out of the window to see
that it has started to rain heavily.
“Walking,” Harry shrugs, looking down at his mostly completed work.

Louis’ isn’t even halfway complete. He glances at Niall and Liam. Niall is
drawing in the margin of his notebook, having given up on it a long time
ago. His drawing, however, looks like a rather pretty flower, even though it
is black and white because he is using a pencil. Liam is staring angrily
down at his work, brows drawn, bottom lip out in a pout. He then erases
something so hard, Louis is concerned that he may start a fire from the
friction alone. Neither of them seem to be fairing very well either.
“Let me drive you,” Louis says, not wanting it to sound like a question
because he knows what Harry’s answer would be if he had phrased it as a
question. Now that football practice is over, he has a little time afterschool
free, until baseball starts that is. He is supposed to go straight home, but
where Harry works is kind of on the way, not really.
“No. I can walk,” Harry answers, putting a finality to his tone that Louis
just will not accept. No boyfriend… friend… of his is going to be walking
to work in the this rain. Harry’s workplace is at least a mile away. He will
be soaked by the time he gets there then have to work several hours in wet
clothes. He will get sick, and Louis hates the thought of that because he
won’t have anyone to take care of him.
“Hazza, it’s fucking pouring outside. Let me take you work. Please?” Louis
begs, nodding towards the window which now shows a dark sky pouring
down large drops of rain. Harry is only wearing a long sleeved T-shirt, no
rain coat or anything. Louis would even bet that Harry doesn’t even have an
umbrella. He probably doesn’t even own one.
“Don’t you have to go home as soon as you’re out of school? Don’t your
parents like time you or something?” Harry points out, as if he has won the
argument, but Louis is already two steps of ahead of him. He already has a
plan.
“I’ll tell them I am taking Liam home,” Louis whispers, not wanting Liam
to respond to his name. He knows his friend would go along with the lie,
but he thinks Liam is suspicious of something between them, therefore
Louis doesn’t want to chance it.
“What will he do for a ride then?” Harry asks, brows drawn together with
the question. Louis really wants to point out that Harry is now concerned
with Liam’s well being, and how he is going to get home, however, Louis
wants to stick to the topic at hand. He will let Harry figure out that he is
slowly becoming friends with Liam later.
“He’s taking the bus. Wants to talk to Cordelia.” Louis bobs his eyebrows
up and down suggestively until realization strikes Harry’s features, his eyes
widening, his pretty red mouth shaping into a small ‘o’. Louis came in that
same mouth earlier that day. He shakes his head to rid himself of the
memories, dick already hardening just from the thought. Focus. He must
focus. Right. What were they talking about? Yes. Louis giving Harry a ride,
and not in the sexy way even though he kind of does want to hop on Harry’s
dick like a pogo stick. Maybe someday, but for now a ride to work will just
have to do. See, Louis can totally focus even when Harry’s mouth is slightly
agape not even six inches away. He is a focusing machine. He may as well
be a fucking microscope because that is how well he is focusing.
“Fine. If you want to give me a ride, then I would appreciate it,” Harry says,
finally closing his mouth. Thank God because Louis was about .3 seconds
away from another fantasy involving Harry’s mouth. He’s a teenage boy.
Who could blame him really?
“I would love to give you a ride,” Louis replies winking, because he can’t
help himself. Harry walked right into that one, really. Plus, even though
they are fucking around, Louis still loves fucking with Harry when it comes
to sexual innuendos. It always seems to catch him off guard, sporting a look
that is the most adorable mixture of surprised and confused. Then he
always, always, scrunches his nose, coughs, and clears his throat.
Afterwards, at least half of the time, he squirms a bit in his position,
shuffling his feet or moving his hands in someway. Louis has this down to a
science. Now if only he understood science half as much as he understood
Harry, he would be doing great academically.
The final bell rings and Harry finally stops sputtering at Louis’ comment,
which is a fucking shame because it is a look he is quite fond of on Harry.
“Come on. Let’s go,” Louis says, grabbing his books tapping Harry’s bicep.
Harry places his homework in the only notebook Louis has ever seen him
carry, then grabs his brown leather bound journal that he takes practically
everywhere with him. Louis has suppressed the urge to steal it on more than
occasion, desperately wanting to know what kinds of thoughts Harry has
written within its pages. He feels like he would get a glimpse into Harry’s
brilliant mind, and it makes him itch to take it and read it, however he
won’t. He would never betray Harry’s trust like that. He will just have to
wait until Harry trusts him enough to possibly read it.
They walk out of the school together, running through the cold rain to get to
Louis’ car. They are practically soaked when they get in, both slamming the
doors to keep out the wetness that seems to have taken over the town. Louis
is shivering as he quickly starts the car and turns the heater on, rubbing his
hands together. He gets cold easily, and it makes him quite grumpy, if he’s
honest, but he’s not going to complain. The rain got Harry into his car, and
for that he is thankful. He is always thankful for being able to spend just a
bit more time with Harry when he can. Especially, when they can be alone.
Harry must also be cold because his nipples are hard, poking against his
shirt making Louis want to bite them, but he refrains, somehow. He doesn't
know how one man can be so devastatingly gorgeous and not even know it.
Harry seems to have gone through a bit of a growth spurt recently, without
Louis even noticing. Where at the beginning of the year, he only had an
inch or so height advantage over Louis, now he is much taller. Louis shivers
remembering what had occured in the stairwell earlier when Harry had
practically manhandled him against the wall. His legs look impossibly long
crammed into the tight confines of Louis’ car. Louis wants to kiss his ankle
and work his way up. It may take months to get to his destination, but he
would be perfectly happy because it would be fucking worth it.
“Just need to text my mom to let her know that I will be a bit late,” Louis
explains, pulling out his phone. Harry nods as Louis texts her. She is way
more lenient than Mark. As long as she knows where he is, she is generally
fine. It is Mark that is the asshole about it. Then again, Mark is an asshole
about everything. Louis turns the windshield wipers on their highest setting
and maneuvers his way out of the school parking lot. He bites his lip,
thinking about the question that has been on his mind for the last few days.
He just never had an opportunity to bring it up. He didn’t want to ask while
they were around their friends and in a note or text seemed far too
impersonal. Now, seems to be the best time.
“So, what are you doing for Thanksgiving? Going to your family’s house or
something?” Louis holds his breath, waiting to see if Harry would actually
answers his question. He tried to phrase it in the most non threatening way
he could think of, wanting to make it sound casual and not at all like he is
prying. He’s not. He is just impossibly curious about Harry’s family. Harry
generally avoids questions about his family, but has been opening up a bit
more since their shopping trip together. It makes Louis’ chest feel warm and
his heart feel too big for his rib cage.
“Umm-- nothing. One of my mom’s jobs is in retail, so she has to work to

prepare for Black Friday, and we don’t have the money to buy food. My
grandparents are all dead, my dad wants nothing to do with me, and Gemma
is going to Virginia to spend it with her roommates family,” Harry answers
after what feels like an eternity. Louis tries his hardest to keep his
expression neutral, and not shocked, but his gut drops and his heart aches
with Harry’s admission, however he knows he can’t let Harry know that.
Harry would just shut off again if he thought Louis felt any sort of pity. The
problem is, Louis doesn’t feel pity for Harry. He more so wants to share
Harry’s pain, take some of it away and off of Harry’s shoulders. He wants to
make Harry happy. He chances a glance at Harry, whose gaze is is trained
out the window, not really looking at anything. His cheeks are red either
from cold or embarrassment, and he looks almost sad, even though his
voice gave none of that away.
“Why don’t you-- um-- come and eat dinner with my family?” Louis asks
hesitantly, unsure if Harry would see it as a handout. It’s not. He just really
cares for Harry and absolutely hates the thought of him being alone in a
house with no food on a holiday that is supposed to be about family and
food. It makes him sick even thinking about it. How is that fair? How is it
fair that there are so many starving people in the world, yet so many
undeserving billionaires? Why does his family have food, but Harry’s does
not? What kind of God would allow someone to go hungry, never knowing
when they are going to get their next meal?
“No,” Harry rejects, eyes snapping to Louis. He clearly saw it as a pity

invite when that is the exactly what Louis didn’t want it to be. So, Louis
tries a different approach. It may be dirty, but Louis never promised to play
fair.
“I would like to spend the Holiday with you though,” Louis says, glancing
away from the road to pout at Harry for a brief second before looking back.
He sees Harry’s features soften, which means that this new tactic may be
working.
“I don’t want to intrude on your family, Lou. There are seven of you; they
don’t need another mouth to feed,” Harry argues, and dammit, Louis really
thought he had won. He will not be deterred though. Harry will not spend
Thanksgiving alone even if Louis has to drag him out of his house kicking
and screaming. He will do that too. He knows where Harry lives.
“Mom loves cooking and always makes too much food. She would love to
have you, I’m sure,” Louis responds, trying to fight Harry with logic, which
tends to work in his favor. Harry is a sucker for logic it seems.
“Your family won’t like me though.” Harry gestures to his clothes, his voice
slightly sad, which breaks Louis’ heart. It is as if Harry has thought a lot
about this subject. He may be correct when it comes to Mark, but Louis
doesn’t think his mom would outright hate him because of the way that he
dresses.
“My sisters loved you, Hazza. They still talk about you, and you only met
them once,” Louis tells him, and Harry looks like he is seriously
considering the question for the first time. Thank God, because Louis is
almost at Mac’s Music. He has been driving slowly on purpose, trying to
give them more time to talk about it, and not give Harry an excuse to leave.
He can’t leave if the car is moving.
“What about Mark?” Harry asks, and Louis knew it was coming. He had
just hoped that Harry would agree first.
“I’m not gonna bullshit you and tell you that he will be fine. He will be an
ass the entire time and will probably talk about religion. I don’t want you to
feel like you have to hide who you are Haz, so it is up to you on how you
want to answer him. I want you to come, regardless, though. I would like to
spend the holiday together .” Louis puts emphasis on the last word, trying
to convey that he wants him around. That he likes being around him and not
just to get off. It’s important to Louis that Harry understands this. That
Harry understands he is important, and he has not been forgotten.
“Okay. Fine. If your mom says it’s okay, then I’ll come,” Harry says, but
Louis doesn't miss the nervous shake in his voice. It’s barely there, but
Louis has gotten a bit better at reading Harry. Reading Harry is like a fine
art. Harry is subtle. His words usually have a double meaning, and he likes
metaphors. If he doesn't want to outright answer a question, he will usually
ask one of his own instead that is similar enough to the original question to
confuse the other person into changing the subject. He is tricky, but Louis is
finally starting to interpret all of the little things that make up the bigger
picture.
“I’ll ask her as soon as I get home and text you her answer,” Louis says,
parking on the street in front of the shop, and turning to give Harry a bright
smile. It has mostly stopped raining, and Louis couldn’t be happier. Harry
won’t be alone for Thanksgiving. Harry won’t have to starve on
Thanksgiving. Louis looks around before he kisses Harry goodbye and
waves at Willow through the shop window, who waves back with a big
smile. He drives home a little too quickly, and calls for his mom as soon as
he walks through the door.
“In the kitchen!” She calls back, voice muffled by the walls and door
separating them. Louis toes off his shoes and throws his backpack into
some random location as he makes his way into the kitchen eager to get an
answer to Harry.
“Umm--- got a second?” He asks her, watching as she starts to peel a

potato, preparing something for dinner. He goes to wash his hands,
intending to help her.
“Yeah, what’s up, Lou?” She asks, glancing from her potatoes to Louis as
he dries his hands. She follows him with her blue eyes, so very much like
his own, as he comes up beside her, picking up a knife and beings cutting
carrots. Louis suddenly feels nervous. He has no idea why, his mom isn’t
like Mark.
“You know my friend Harry? The one the girls were talking about the other
day when they saw him at the game?” Louis asks, finishing the first one
quickly.
“Yeah, Boobear, why?” She asks, looking at him, dark brows drawn in
confusion.
“Well, his mom has to work on Thanksgiving, and he doesn't really have
any other family. I was wondering if he could join us?” Louis asks,
expression hopeful. He wants to tell his mom just enough about Harry’s
situation to bring out her motherly instincts, but not enough to upset Harry
if he finds out.
His mom’s expression softens immediately, and he knows exactly what she
is going to says before she even gets the words out. “Of course he can!
Stupid companies taking people away from their families on holidays. It’s
terrible, really. He is more than welcome to join us. One more person isn’t
going to kill us, plus the girls seem to love him.” She smiles at him.
“Okay. Awesome, thanks, Mom. You’re the best,” Louis replies returning
her smile.
____________
Harry is nervous. He has no idea why the fuck he even agreed to this. He
found the most basic black shirt he owns and paired it with his loosest
fitting skinny jeans with no holes. He still is wearing all black, and he still
knows he appears gothic, however it will have to do. He even put some
product in his hair, using it to keep the curls out his face. He still feels like
Louis’ step-dad is going to hate him. He looks at the clock nervously,
resisting the urge to pick at his cuticles or worse. He hasn’t been this
nervous in a very long time. He needs something to relieve it. He glances to
his night stand drawer, but instead gets up and starts pacing the room, biting
at his already mangled nail beds. His jumps when he hears his notification
tone go off. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, seeing Louis’ smiling face
with a message saying ‘here!’ with a little heart beside it. Harry takes a
deep breath, and wipes his hands on the front of his jeans. He can do this.
“Hey,” Louis greets a little too cheerfully as soon as Harry opens the door.
Harry smiles at him, folding his legs into the car. It is the first time Harry
has seen him since their school let out on Tuesday for Thanksgiving break.
Even though it has only been two days, it still feels like a lifetime. Harry
kind of missed him. He looks beautiful in a dark blue, knit sweater with
horizontal stripes in various shades of red and light blue paired with dark
jeans. Louis has the sleeves of the sweater bunched up, exposing tan
forearms that Harry has the desire to bite. He would if he wasn’t so fucking
anxious.
“Hey,” he replies nervously, resisting the urge to jog his leg. The urge wins
out, the whole car moving with the movement. He freezes when he feels a
warm palm on his knee.
“Don’t be nervous,” Louis says softly, blue eyes staring into his. He then
grabs Harry’s hand and brings it up to his lips, kissing it tenderly. He drops
it back down on his knee, keeping it in his own as he starts driving them
back towards Louis home. Harry realizes he has no clue where Louis lives.
He has never seen his house. He suspects it’s nice, but has no idea. The car
is quite as they drive, as if Louis senses Harry’s nerves. He never lets go of
his hand though, a constant steadying presence helping him resist the urge
to fidget. Harry realizes that Louis doesn't live that far away from him at all,
just a mile or so. Louis’ house is fairly large and made of brick. It has two
stories and a nice little porch with a swing. There are various toys out in the
yard that clearly belong to young children. It is much nicer than his own,
that is for sure.
“This is it,” Louis announces releasing Harry’s hand and pulling the key out
of the ignition. Harry takes another deep breath before he gets out of the
car, following Louis’ lead. He has already decided he is going to try his best
to bite his tongue when talk of religion comes up. He doesn’t want to be
banned from Louis completely. He doesn't want to have to hide their
relationship even more than they already do. He can fake it. He has before,
so he can do it again. He stills himself, slipping on the mask that he is so
used to wearing. He has been letting it come off more and more around
Louis, but he can’t today. Today he has to make a good impression.
When Louis opens the door, Harry’s senses are overwhelmed with…
everything. He hears people talking loudly, the sounds of little girls chatting
and giggling. He smells the delightful aroma of a traditional Thanksgiving
meal. He sees a crowded living room full of oversized furniture, a football
game playing on the television. Harry is so used to being alone in a home,
being surrounded by people and sounds and smells is slightly jarring for
him, but he takes a deep breath and steps over the threshold behind Louis.
Louis glances at him worriedly, but Harry gives him what he hopes to be a
small reassuring smile. It may come out as a grimace, but he isn’t sure. He
absentmindedly scratches at the scars on his arm through his shirt sleeve, as
he tends to do when he is nervous. Fuck. He can do this. He can be a
normal human being for once.
“Hazzy!” Harry hears the scream of a little girl, and before he even has time
to register who it is from, he feels two small arms wrap tightly around his
waist, a face being buried into his thigh. He freezes unsure of what to do
glancing at Louis for help. The bastard just laughs and shrugs so Harry pats
her head awkwardly. He is pretty sure it isn’t socially acceptable to pet a
child much like one would pet a dog, but it’s all he can think of. Before he
knows it, her twin comes to join her, burrowing her face into his other
thigh. Now Louis is outright cackling, and Harry kind of wants to punch
him.
“Harry, you remember my sisters, Phoebe and Daisy,” Louis asks with a
sweet smile, obviously trying not to laugh anymore at Harry’s discomfort.
“Which one is which?” Harry whispers to Louis, looking down a the
identical girls. He doesn’t think he will ever be able to tell them apart, but
he knows he would hate to be called by the wrong name. He could at least
try to remember who is wearing what.
“Phoebe is wearing the brown dress with the turkey, and Daisy is wearing
the orange sweater with the family of turkeys,” Louis responds smiling at
Harry’s question. Harry nods, trying to remember that, then he makes the
mistake of looking up, seeing four pairs of eyes on him. He knows Lottie
and Fizzy from that day in the park. Just like that day, Lottie waves, and
Fizzy looks at him, blue eyes squinted with interest. Then Harry’s gaze
lands on Louis’ mom. He recognizes her from the night at the game. She is
smiling at him brightly, and Louis looks so much like her it is strange.
Finally, and unfortunately, Harry’s eyes come to land on Mark. Mark is a
big guy with a crew cut. Harry remembers seeing him that night as well, but
he is exactly how Harry had pictured him from Louis’ description.
“Alright, girls, I think he understands that you missed him,” Louis says,
bending at the knees to grab Phoebe and Daisy’s arms, pulling them off of
Harry’s legs. They don’t move too far away from him though, instead
looking up at him as if in awe. Harry is so confused, but decides to just let it
be. He needs to concentrate now on making a good impression. He is
meeting Louis’ family. This seems important. Harry feels sick thinking
about just how important, the acid turning in his empty stomach. He takes
another deep breath before he smiles at the room around him. Niall always
says that he could be charming if he wants, so now is a good time to try out
that theory.
“Harry, it’s so good to finally meet you! The girls have talked so much
about you, and you only met them once. You made such a good impression
on them.” Louis’ mom finally breaks the awkward tension that has settled
in the room with a wide smile. She comes up to Harry and hugs him
warmly. Harry is so taken aback by the action he freezes for a few seconds
before finally, and very awkwardly, he returns her hug. He needs to get it
fucking together. Jesus.
“It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs. Tomlinson,” Harry responds because, yes,
he does in fact have manners. His mom may not be around very much
anymore, but she did raise him right. Things just... changed.
“Call me Jay,” she tells him, releasing him and pinching his left cheek just a
bit before taking her daughter’s hands and pulling them away. Harry takes a
moment to look around the living room. A giant flat screen TV sits atop an
even bigger entertainment center filled with electronics. Harry can see an
Xbox, Playstation, and blu ray player among others that he isn’t even sure
what they are. The room is large and painted a very light shade of blue.
Dozens of family pictures adorn the walls alongside pictures of bible verses
and other ‘Christianly’ decorations that Harry barely suppresses an eyeroll
at. The living room is about twice the size of Harry’s with so much more of
everything.
“I prefer Mr. Tomlinson.” Harry is startled to hear Mark’s voice for the first
time. He even sounds like an asshole, and of course he would prefer Mr.
Tomlinson. Heaven forbid someone give him anything but respect. Harry
has always had the belief that respect should be earned, not given, but Harry
bites his tongue and nods. He has a feeling he is going to be doing that a lot
over the course of the next several hours.
“Well, you boys are just in time. Thanksgiving dinner is almost ready,” Jays
says, breaking the tension again. Harry can feel his body start to stiffen. He
just wants to grab Louis’ hand and squeeze it, needing that strength, but he
can’t. Fuck he should have never agreed to this. This was a mistake, a big
one. Why did he ever think that Louis’ family could like him or would like
him for that matter? He is weird and so unimportant, it is pathetic. He really
shouldn’t have come.
“Stop,” Louis whispers, when the entire family turns to go towards the
kitchen. Harry shoots him a confused look. He feels it when Louis puts his
hand on his lower back. He looks around, but the entire family seems to
have disappeared into the kitchen. “Stop second guessing yourself. I can see
it written all over your face. They will love you. It will be fine.” Louis’
voice is barely above a whisper, but it makes Harry feel so much better. He
can feel the tension somewhat leave his body at Louis’ words. He smiles at
Louis who returns it, then makes his way into the kitchen behind Louis.
When they get into the kitchen, Harry quickly notices that off to the side is
the dining room where the family are already sat around a table full of food.
Harry doesn’t think he has seen that much food in his life, and he isn’t sure
where to even start. He can’t even decide where his gaze should land. Holy
shit. Harry feels his stomach growl at the smell, and his mouth waters. So
this is what Thanksgiving is like for well off families?
There are two open seats at the table. Louis takes the one beside Daisy,
while Harry sits next to him with Fizzy on his other side. He tries to keep
the look of amazement from the assortment of food in front of him off his
face, but he doesn't think he can. It is just so much, and their home is so
nice. Everything is just… better than anything he has ever experienced first
hand. The dining room is large, with a cedar table. The walls are painted a
deep maroon, a brass chandelier hanging from the ceiling directly above the
table providing a soft light. The table alone looks like it may have cost the
same amount as a month’s rent for Harry’s mom. Harry has never felt so
poor in his life, seeing what other people have. He has been to Niall’s
house, but Naill isn’t super well off. His family is lower middle class, with
a small but nice home. Nothing like this.
“Alright, we are going to say grace. Since Harry is here, we won’t be

holding hands, but everyone please bow your heads,” Mark demands, who
is sitting at the head of the table, chest puffed out looking very much like a
proud rooster. If he had red hair, the resemblance would be uncanny. Harry
bows his head, but an idea pops into his head. He smirks as he listens for
the prayer to start.
“Heavenly Father,” Mark begins, and Harry sneaks his hand under the table,
a long dark table cloth covering his movements mostly. “We thank you for
this meal,” Mark continues, and Harry puts his hand on Louis’ knee. He can
feel Louis stiffen. “This is a day we are supposed to reflect on things we are
thankful for, Lord, and we are so thankful for the many blessings you give
to us.” Harry stops paying attention, as he trails his hand up Louis’ inner
thigh, making Louis squirm. Louis glares at him, but Harry just smirks. He
thinks this is the best prayer he has ever been a part of. Right as Mark and
the rest of the family say ‘amen’ Harry grabs Louis’ crotch making him
yelp in surprise. All gazes turn to Louis, and his cheeks flame a rather
lovely shade of pink.
“Louis, are you alright?” Jay asks, a mixture of concern and confusion
marring her features.
“Yeah, I’m fine, Mom. Sorry. I just-- uh-- accidentally kicked the table and
hurt my toe. I’m sorry for disrupting the prayer,” Louis lies, and if Harry
didn’t know any better, he would have actually believed him. It is no shock
that Louis is a convincing liar. The only sign that something is amiss is the
way Louis fidgets with his shirt, adjusting and readjusting it under the table
while he looks down, shaking the hair out of his eyes.
“Amen,” Harry says with a huge smile, and he feels Louis punch his thigh
hard. He just laughs, and the rest of the family is staring at them confusedly.
They don’t say anything and just start passing food around the table,
grabbing whatever they want. It is overwhelming, and Harry isn’t sure what
to grab first. He doesn't have to decide, though, because Louis begins
putting food on both of their plates. Turkey first, followed by mashed
potatoes and gravy, then he adds too many sides for Harry to count, a little
bit of everything and finishes of their plates with a roll for each of them.
“So, Harry. Where is it that your family goes to church?” Mark asks and
they both knew these questions were coming, but that doesn’t stop Louis
from visibly stiffening beside of him.
The Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster. “My mom normally works on
Sundays, so we don’t get to go often, but when we do, we go to Fairmont
Baptist,” Harry responds, easily. It’s not technically a lie. That was the
church he went to growing up back before he started refusing to go, and his
mom didn’t see the point anymore. Fairmont is also on the edge of town, so
he doesn’t expect Mark to know much about it. Mark nods his head,
seeming to like his answer, and Harry almost sighs in relief. Louis just
looks shocked by his answer. Harry can lie if he wants.
“That’s a shame. Working on Sundays. I remember when there used to be

laws against it. No one should have to work on the Lord’s day of rest, but
that’s the messed up world we live in,” Marks says shaking his head like it’s
the worst news he has ever heard. Fuck. Not rolling his eyes is starting to
become very fucking difficult. He knew it would be, but he wasn’t prepared
for just how difficult. “You probably don’t know much about the Bible,
Son, since you don’t go to church any more, but it says you shouldn’t work
on Sunday which is the Lord’s day.”
No, it isn’t. Saturday is technically the ‘seventh day’ of the week and the
only sabbath, but Christians started worshiping on Sunday because that
was the day that Christ had supposedly risen from the tomb. Since then,
Sunday has been widely believed to be the sabbath by most Christians, even
though they are wrong. “I did know that, Sir,” Harry responds instead,
taking a bite of his turkey which is probably the best turkey he has ever
tasted.
“Good, good. So you at least know something about the Holy Book. What’s
your favorite bible verse?” Mark asks, looking at Harry with squinted eyes.
Harry knows this is a test. Well Harry’s got Bible verses for days. He has
quite a few memorized or is at least able to paraphrase.
When a man sells his daughter as a slave, she will not be freed at the end of
six years as the men are. If she does not please the man who bought her, he
may allow her to be bought back again. Exodus 21: 7-8. “Trust in the Lord
with all your heart and lean not on your understanding. In all the ways you
submit to him, he will make your path straight. Proverbs 3:5-6.” He smirks
at Louis as he says it, and Louis’ eyes go comically wide almost choking on
the bite of mashed potatoes he just shoved into his mouth. He knows he
chose one that Mark would approve of, but it also has quite the double
meaning given his and Louis’ conversation. It also has the word ‘straight’ in
it, which is perfect, isn’t it?
“That’s a good verse, Son,” Marks compliments, chewing on some green

beans in thought. Harry hates that Mark calls people ‘Son’. There is just
something weird and creepy about it. Harry isn’t sure what, but something
about it makes his stomach roll. Harry seems to have passed whatever test
Mark was giving him because the conversation moves to Lottie and Fizzy
after that.
__________
“I got five!” Phoebe exclaims happily, moving her little blonde girl piece
five spots, cheering excitedly when she realizes it has landed on a ladder.
Harry cheers with her, smiling brightly. It is the strangest thing, seeing
Harry sitting on his living room floor playing a board game with himself
and his two youngest sisters while the rest of his family sits around them,
talking. He still has no idea how Phoebe and Daisy got him to agree to this.
After dinner, they just pouted a bit, made their eyes big and said ‘pwease,
Hazzy’ in the cutest little voices, and he caved. Perhaps Louis should try
that.
“Your turn, Hazzy,” Daisy tells him, matter-of-factly, as if neither of them

knew who’s turn it was.
“Oh. My apologies. I didn’t realize,” Harry acts, bowing his head to Daisy
prompting her to giggle. The whole scene is making Louis’ heart feel warm
and almost too big for his chest. When Harry lands on a chute sending him
down the board, he pouts and the girls giggle. Louis even laughs because
it’s adorable. He has the sudden urge to kiss his pout away, but he can’t. If
Harry were a girl, his parents wouldn’t think twice if he had done it. So why
is this so fucking different?
“Ha ha ha ha. I won!” Daisy boasts two seconds later, moving her piece to
the 100th spot and cheering loudly. Harry pretends to pout, and Phoebe just
shrugs, not really ever having been competitive, much like Harry. Louis for
his part also pouts, pretending to be so disappointed that he lost a game
made for children. Daisy sticks out her tongue, blowing a raspberry which
has Harry laughing. He looks beautiful like this. Louis knows Harry isn’t
super comfortable around children, but he seems at home with his sisters.
“Well. I better get Harry home,” Louis says then standing, and without
thinking he reaches his hand out to help Harry up. If his family thinks it’s
less than bro-like behavior, they don’t say anything. They all just stand,
preparing to bid Harry farewell. Jay hugs him first, and Louis watches as
Harry visibly stiffens for half a second before he returns it. Fizzy and Lottie
opt for a fist bump because they are to the age where hugging isn’t cool.
Mark actually, and this is the fucking miracle of the century, shakes Harry’s
hand. Finally, Harry hunches down for Phoebe and Daisy to hug him,
murmuring tearful goodbyes into his shirt, and making him promise to
come back and visit. When they get outside, Harry takes a deep breath, as if
he needs to steady himself. Louis feels the same way. He has been on edge
all night.
“Okay, who are you, and what have you done with my moody Harold?”
Louis questions, with a grin as they walk to Louis’ car.
“Your Harold?” Harry asks with a smirk.
“That’s not the point,” Louis says, getting into the car and shutting the door.
He places his hand on Harry’s knee when he gets in, glad to finally have
some point of contact that isn’t strictly on the friendly side of sorta, kinda,
boyfriends. Harry smiles at him as he shuts the door, the cab now mostly
dark.
“Why do you look so shocked?” Harry asks, grabbing his seatbelt, and
buckling up.
“I don’t know. First, you pull Bible verses out of your ass, then you make
up some shit about going to Church, then you talk all throughout dinner,
when it took me forever to get you to utter a single word to me, then you
play a board game with my little sisters. Not to mention the fact that you
fucking groped me during Mark’s prayer, not that I am complaining about
any of it, mind you. I am just a bit shocked. I didn’t expect it to go that way
at all. I was halfway prepared for you to argue with them, which I would
have been perfectly okay with,” Louis rants as he starts the car and pulls out
of the driveway, and Harry is… laughing? He can’t see him very well in the
low light of the cab, but there is definitely a smile on his face, and the
unmistakable sound of Harry’s laugh flowing from his direction. Why is he
laughing?
“I’m sorry. You just look adorable when you rant. Your voice gets all high
pitched and squeaky, and you do all of these hand gestures. You talk so fast,
I can barely keep up with you,” Harry responds, and Louis can make him
out wiping his face with two large thumbs. Harry can’t see it, but Louis is
glaring at him. “And to answer your questions, I decided before I even set
foot in your living room that I would be on my best behavior. I don’t want
them to ban me completely from seeing you. I like your sisters. They are
sweet, and of course I would grope you during a prayer. Did you really
expect anything less of me?”
Louis doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but smirks because, no, he didn’t
really expect anything different. It took him by surprise, yes, but he really
shouldn’t have been all that surprised in the grand scheme of things. It was
kind of funny, afterall. He is also very grateful that Harry at least tired with
his family. He doesn’t want to be permanently banned from Harry either,
but he was prepared to be even more sneaky if worse came to worst. He
also doesn’t want Harry to pretend to be someone else around them either.
Of course not, but if he chose to then that was his call. He wasn’t exactly
pretending to be someone he isn’t, he just grazed over the details. In fact,
Louis isn’t sure if Harry outright lied at all. His mom probably did used to
take him to church, and he probably did know that it used to be a law not to
work on Sundays. He just had the feeling that Harry perhaps wasn’t saying
everything he was thinking.
“Well. Thank you. My family loved you, and it was nice, you know, having
you at my house and stuff,” Louis says, placing his hand back on Harry’
knee, keeping it there. Harry intertwines their fingers, making Louis smile.
He loves how much more open Harry has been with him lately. He still
thinks Harry hasn’t told him everything or that he has even breeched the
surface, but he hasn’t expected him, too. Trust takes time, and Louis can be
patient.
“Thank you, for umm-- inviting me. I know I can be a bit of an ass, but it
was nice not spending it hungry and alone, I suppose. Your family is nice,
well except Mark who was wrong on several different occasions. Your mom
is a good cook. I had fun,” Harry says, and there is a vulnerability to his
voice that wasn’t there before. It is just barely there, but Louis can still
make it out.
“You’re not an ass. You’re just… into self preservation. I can’t fault you for
that.” Louis brings Harry’s hands up to his lips, kissing his knuckles. “You
have a nice ass though,” Louis adds, attempting to lighten the mood. It
works because Harry chuckles as Louis pulls up to the curb in front of
Harry house.
“Well-- umm, text me?” Harry asks, glancing at his dark house. Louis hates
the idea of Harry going in there alone, spending the rest of the night that
way, but there is nothing he can really do about it. Maybe he can go home
and call him or something. He can just tell his parents that he is talking to
Willow. They won’t have to know it’s Harry.
“I’ll call you when I get home, how about that?” Louis asks the idea
forming in his head.
“You don’t have to do that. You just spent a few hours with me,” Harry
responds as if he can’t fathom a reason why anyone would want to spend
hours with him then talk to him on the phone. Louis hates that. He hates
how insecure Harry is. He wishes he could find whoever made him this way
and beat them. Fuck beating the gay out of people, they should be more
concerned with beating the asshole out of people who could hurt Harry. He
has been getting glimpses of who he thinks Harry was before whatever
happened to him to make him so distrusting lately, and it hurts his heart to
think someone could have caused him so much pain. Don’t get him wrong.
He likes who Harry is now, maybe even more than likes, but he would have
liked to have known Harry before.
“I want to, and plus you have to tell me all of the things Mark was wrong
about, and how he was wrong,” Louis jokes, making Harry smile.
“It’s a deal if you’re sure you wanna know,” Harry says, as he reaches for
the handle. Does Louis want to know? Does he want to continue
questioning everything he thought he knew?
“Of course, I do,” Louis says, then before Harry can open the door, he pulls
their lips together, kissing Harry sweetly. Harry lets out a surprised gasps,
but melts into it after a few seconds. His lips are soft and he tastes like the
piece of pumpkin pie he hate for dessert. Louis kind of wanted to lick
whipped cream off of him in other more inappropriate spots while he
watched Harry eat it, but that is besides the point. Louis breaks this kiss too
soon and continues, “I’m just glad Mark didn’t rant about politics.”
“There is always next time,” Harry responds, then opens the door, kissing
Louis on the cheek and gets out, waving. Next time.
Chapter End Notes
Heaven's A Lie
Chapter Summary
Harry goes out of his comfort zone for Louis then they have some fun
at the Holiday Concert.
Chapter Notes
Sorry this chapter is a little later than normal!! I love you all for
reading, and I am so glad you are enjoying this. This chapter is a fun
one, if you ask me. ENJOY!
Also, there is discussion about God in this chapter, so if you get

offended eaisly, don't read. If you want more information about some
of the stuff mentioned, check out the following links:
Other Miracle Births

Pagan Roots
Birth Date of Jesus
Do some research before you start yelling lol.
Oh, no, here it is again
I need to know, when I will fall into decay...
Somethin' wrong, with every plan of my life
I didn't really
Notice that you've been here…- Lacuna Coil

Harry takes a deep breath. He can’t fucking believe he is getting ready to do
this. He looks at Liam sitting at the lunch table with Niall a few feet away.
He almost turns around and walks away, much preferring to eat his lunch in
a dirty bathroom stall rather than actually doing what he is about to do. He
has to do this, though. He has to for Louis, so he takes the few steps coming
to a stop at the head of the table, looking down at Niall and Liam.
“Hey, Haz! Wanna eat with us?” Niall asks, and Harry glances at Liam who
smiles and nods in confirmation. He releases a breath as he sits his tray
down with shaking hands beside Niall. He briefly considers putting this
conversation off longer, but he can’t. This is the one day a month when
Louis spends his lunch period in Bible Club, so he needs to do it now or
Louis will figure out what he is up to. He slides into the seat beside Niall,
attempting to smile at them both, but he knows it is probably more of a
grimace.
Niall looks at him worriedly out of the corner of his eye, probably trying to
figure out why the fuck Harry has decided to sit with them during lunch.
Harry is trying to figure out the exact same thing, so he fucking gets it.
Louis usually acts as a buffer between himself and Liam, but Louis isn’t
there today therefore the other two boys probably expected Harry to not be
there either. Willow also usually eats lunch with them, bringing her friend
Tara who is very nice, but they are also in Bible Club. It is strange to go
from eating lunch with one person to five, however, Harry doesn’t really
allow himself to think about it too much, or else he will freak out.
“How are you?” Liam asks, looking at Harry, and Harry panics for a brief
moment. It’s not like he hasn’t spoken to Liam before. They’ve spoken a
few times, it’s just… this is different. It is what they are going to speak
about that is the issue. Harry swallows and tries to remember to breathe. He
can do this. He can be a normal socially functioning human being for once
in his life. He can do this for Louis. Niall seems to sense something big is
happening because he stops talking and looks at Harry.
“I’m good,” Harry mumbles, but then remembers he is supposed to follow

that up. “How are you?”
“Great,” Liam smiles, and Harry realizes that maybe Liam isn’t so bad. He
has always been nice to Harry, even before Louis came into the picture.
Now that Harry thinks about it, Liam has never really said anything mean
or hurtful towards him. Harry should maybe give him a chance. He decides
to plow on since Niall is staying abnormally quiet.
“Listen. I actually need your help with something,” Harry starts, and Liam
looks so surprised it would be funny if Harry wasn’t so serious about this.
Liam, to his credit, recovers quickly, shutting his mouth and lets his dark
eyes fall back into a somewhat normal shape. Niall, however, still looks
completely shocked. He even stops eating which is the mechanism that
Harry uses to gage Niall’s health.
“Yeah, of course, man. What do you need?” Liam asks enthusiastically. He

puts down his fork to give Harry his undivided attention. Harry swallows,
asking himself for the one hundred and thirty third time if this is a good
idea. It is too late now. It is already out there, and Niall probably won’t let
him back out even if he tried.
“Well, I wanted to get Louis a birthday gift, but I’m not sure what to get
him. You’re his best friend, so I was hoping you could help,” Harry says,
eyes cast down, so he doesn’t have to look at Liam when he asks him for
help. It is honestly killing him. He hates asking people for help, especially
people that probably don’t like him, but he is doing it for Louis. He wants
Louis’ birthday to be special. He has already gotten him a Christmas gift,
but he is at a loss for the birthday aspect. He doesn’t want to bring it up
with Louis because then he will know.
“Oh. That’s so nice of you. I don’t know how much help I can be, though.
When I asked him, he told me not to get him anything, and that his birthday
isn’t a big deal because it’s around Christmas.” Liam finishes the statement
with a shrug, a small pout on his lips. He probably thinks that he didn’t help
Harry at all, but on the contrary, Harry’s mind is now whirling with
information and a plan. He knows exactly what he wants to do for Louis,
and the good news is that it really won’t cost that much money. This is good
seeing as he spent all of his last pay on Louis’ Christmas present and
buying a present for his mom and Niall. His next pay will probably go to
his mom to help her pay the power bill, so it doesn’t get shut off. She
doesn't know that he knows, but he does.
Fuck. If he is going to pull this off, it is going to have to be at his house,

which means Louis will have to actually come to his house. His mom will
probably be working or something anyway, even if it will be Christmas
Eve, so that won’t be an issue. He thinks he will be able to manage it, but he
will need to talk to Louis about it first.
___________
“How was Bible Club?” Harry asks turning around to straddle his chair.
Louis watches the way his thighs strain with the movement, glancing down
to see his tight jeans stretched at his crotch. Harry asked him a question.
Right. It was about Bible Club, and Louis is surprised to hear him ask that.
They usually pretend Louis doesn’t go to Bible Club once a month, much
preferring to talk about other things. Harry is smiling. He seems to be in a
good mood, and Louis wonders what he missed during lunch. Miss Moore
told them to work in small groups to discuss the concept of Voice in
creative writing. Louis thought it was funny that Liam didn’t even bother
asking him to work together, knowing that Louis and Harry would partner
up like always.
“Oh. It was fine. We talked about Christmas and the miraculous birth of
Jesus,” Louis responds, honestly. He has heard the story a million and seven
times, so it was kind of boring. He has heard it all before, and, as
miraculous as a virgin birth is, he isn’t shocked by it anymore.
“You do know that Jesus, if he even was a real person, most likely wasn’t
born on December 25th, right?” Harry asks, and what?
“Yes, he was. December 25th in a manger,” Louis tells him, because he

thinks he would know better than Harry about this. He literally just came
from a discussion on it.
“Nope. Most biblical scholars believe he was born in the spring, probably
around June because that is when the shepherds would have been watching
over their flocks, plus there was an astronomical phenomena that happened
around that time in the year 2 B.C.E that could have been mistaken for the
Star of Bethlehem,” Harry informs him, sitting straighter and intertwining
his fingers together, placing them on Louis’ desk. Louis tries to keep the
shocked expression off his face and silently tells his dick to settle down
because there is something ridiculously hot about Harry when he shows his
intelligence. What he said, though, finally sinks in. Biblical scholars?
Astronomical phenomena? No.
“Then why would they say it was on December 25th? What’s the point in
lying?” Louis asks, and he thinks it is a valid question.
“Same reasons as Halloween. Except this time, they were trying to convert
the Pagans of Rome to Christianity. The date in December directly
correlates with the Roman Winter Solstice festival called, Saturnalia. Other
Pagan religions also celebrated the Winter Solstice, like the Germanic
holiday Yule. The Church, in true Christian fashion, stole the traditions and
made it about the birth of Jesus instead of the solstice to fit their narrative,”
Harry tells him, smirk firmly in place. It is the same smirk he has sported
when they have had discussions like these before, but now Louis kind of
finds it hot. Wait, could what Harry is saying be true? Harry hasn’t lied to
him yet, unlike his church. What Harry said about Halloween turned out to
be true, as well as those other books the church didn’t include in the Bible.
So why would this be any different?
“What kind of traditions?” Louis asks, not being able to keep the curiosity
from his tone. Harry smiles, like he is proud of him for asking that question.
“Well gift giving, for example, can be traced back to Saturnalia. They used
to give children wax figures during the holiday to represent human
sacrifices to Saturn. Christmas Trees have roots in Nordic and Germanic
traditions. Their evergreen biology symbolizes immortality, and they were
decorated with apples and nuts.” Harry’s voice is firm and unwavering, the
statement coming out almost rehearsed, as if he has said it before. Louis’
head feels like it is reeling with information. Not for the first time, Louis
thinks that everything he knows and was taught is a lie.
“Okay, they may have borrowed some traditions, but that doesn’t take away
the fact that Jesus was born of a virgin in a manger,” Louis points out,
feeling somewhat triumphant because it’s true. So what if Christianity
borrowed some traditions, like Harry had said before, they were trying to
convert people to the true ways. So what if they stole here and there to save
people’s souls.
“Borrowed is such a Christian way of putting it,” Harry says, chuckling

humorously. “I am going to be honest with you here. They also stole that
story from other religions, as well. There were quite a few Gods who were
born of virgins thousands of years before Judaism as a religion even began.
Take Mars for example. He was a Roman God. His mother Juno wanted to
conceive without her husband, so she sought help from the Goddess, Flora.
She became impregnated after touching a magical flower, later giving birth
to Mars.”
“That is just absurd. Getting pregnant from a magical flower. That is the
dumbest thing I've ever heard. That sounds more like Disney than religion,”
Louis scoffs. He is pretty sure his sisters watched Tangled, and there was a
magical flower in that. The story Harry just told is absolutely insane. Louis
can’t even fathom how anyone would have believed that.
“Is it really that much less believable than a virgin becoming pregnant after
having a dream where an angel visited her saying it would become so?
Because it is a story about a God that you don’t believe in, suddenly it is the
most bullshit thing you have ever heard.” What? Fuck. Louis stops
breathing.
“But…” Louis lets his sentence trail off, his head is spinning. Is a virgin
becoming pregnant by God so much different than a virgin conceiving by
way of a magical flower? Louis wants to say it is, but, now that Harry has
phrased it that way, he knows, logically, it is not. In both stories, divine
intervention was at play, but Louis was so quick to brush the other one off
as false simply because it sounded crazy to him. It isn’t that much different
to the story he currently believes though, is it? Louis automatically
dismissed the idea because it wasn’t about his particular God, but now he
isn’t so sure.
“Think about it, Lou. You are woman in a time where sex before marriage
was punishable by death. You were unwed and realized you were pregnant.
So you come up with a lie to tell your overly religious fiance who is a
virgin, so he won’t kill you. Isn’t that scenario way more believable than a
virgin becoming pregnant with God by God?” Fuck. Harry’s right. Holy
fucking shit. Louis feels sick. He just… well… he can’t believe it, but what
Harry is saying makes sense. With today’s technology, it would be easy to
prove a virgin impregnation as false, but back then? It would have been so
simple for a scared young woman to make up that story, so her fiance
wouldn’t kill her for being pregnant when it was clearly not his. It is shitty
that a woman would feel like she had to do that in the first place since the
man who impregnated her wouldn’t have had to fear death.
“Are you okay, Lou?” Harry’s voice breaks into his subconscious, somehow
pulling him out of his spiral. He has been staring at Harry the whole time,
but he was in a completely different world. Louis blinks a few times,
attempting to focus his eyes, to find Harry looking at him almost
apologetically. Louis doesn’t know why he looks like he is sorry for
something. Harry was just giving Louis information and being logical.
Louis realizes he must have been silent for too long, because Harry also
looks somewhat worried.
“I’m fine. You were just giving me information. That was... just... that’s a
lot to think about,” Louis says honestly, his throat suddenly feeling dry. He
tries to swallow, but he feels like he has no spit in his mouth, so it is dry as
well. He just feels like everything he has been taught is a lie. Everything he
thought and knew to be true simply isn’t. Every single time he and Harry
have had one of these conversations, it ends with Louis learning more about
his religion than the church has taught him ten years. Over the past few
months, the more Louis learns the more it become almost startlingly
obvious that religion is flawed. Why should he continue to believe and form
his life around something so flawed? Why does he need religion to be a
good person? Harry is a wonderful person, and he is without religion. Louis
also knows plenty of terrible people who are just as God fearing as himself.
“I have a question,” Harry says, and that gets Louis’ attention. Harry hardly
ever asks questions, and he looks really nervous all of the sudden. His feet
are now turned inward, and he is playing with his rings, twirling them
around his fingers. Louis’ eyes find Harry’s lips to see that they are between
his teeth, an obvious sign that Harry is nervous about something. Louis
forgets everything he had been thinking about before and focuses on the
boy in front of him, sensing that Harry needs him.
“And I hopefully have an answer,” Louis responds, giving Harry a

reassuring smile. He hears it when Harry scratches at his arm, the fabric of
his shirt making a scraping sound under blunt nails, another tell that Harry
is nervous. Louis glances around to find nobody watching, then pats Harry’s
hand, hoping to give the other boy some comfort.
“Well-- umm-- I was wondering if it would be possible for you to like,

come to my house on Christmas Eve, so we can exchange presents? I know
your parents won’t let you actually come, but maybe you could like, sneak
out like you did before?” Harry is barely making eye contact, his cheeks
matching the shade of his lips. Louis finds it adorable that Harry can go
from confidently breaking down Louis’ beliefs about God in one moment,
to rambling about Louis coming over the next. He is like a contradiction.
Louis really wishes he could kiss him.
“What time?” Louis asks, already coming up with a plan in his head.
“Whatever time you want. It can be after your parents go to bed. I don’t
sleep much anyways,” Harry responds with a shrug, finally meeting Louis’
eyes. Louis decides not to comment on the sleep thing, knowing that Harry
will just shrug it off. It’s not the first time Harry has told him that he
struggles with sleeping, but every time Louis has even tried to approach the
subject, Harry simply changes it. Louis figures, like everything else, Harry
will come to tell him in his own time.
“It is Christmas Eve, so my parents will probably go to bed early with the
girls. I can probably sneak out of my house by like 10pm, if that isn’t too
late for you,” Louis tells him, and watches as Harry’s green eyes widen with
understanding, as if Harry didn’t actually believe that Louis would say yes.
“No, it’s not too late at all. My mom will probably be working, so that
would be perfect actually,” Harry says smiling. Louis is actually surprised
Harry thought of this. He purchased Harry’s present a few days ago, hiding
it at Willow’s house for now, so his parents wouldn’t get suspicious.
Willow’s parents are strict, but not like his, so she is able to kind of get
away with more than Louis is. It also isn’t something that is easy to hide.
His mom or Mark would have definitely seen it.
“Okay then. Yeah. I can do that. It will be fun.” Louis feels excitement
bloom in his chest. He will get to be alone with Harry in his house on his
birthday. This may be the best birthday present he has ever had, which isn’t
saying much since his birthday mostly gets ignored. He can’t stop the smile
that spreads across his face. He knows his eyes are crinkling, but fuck, he is
just so happy. He gets to be with Harry on his birthday. They get to spend
time together without being surrounded by people or possibly being caught.
“Umm-- I need to warn you. My house is a shit hole, it’s not as nice as
yours. Like, it’s drafty and kind of cold because the heat doesn’t really
work, and all we have is a fireplace and a few space heaters. The wallpaper
is stained and gross. There are splotches of unidentified substances all over
the carpet, and it most definitely smells like mold. I would understand if
you want to spend your birthday somewhere else. This was probably a bad
idea. I didn’t even think about the fact that my house sucks.” Harry drops
his head in defeat at the end of his speech, and Louis’ heart breaks just a
little bit more. How could Harry possibly think that he wouldn’t want to
spend his birthday with him because his house isn’t nice? Louis really
wants to kiss the apprehension right out of him, but they are in the middle
of class, so he needs to use his words. Louis just knows that his chest aches
with something that he can’t put into words, and he really wants to comfort
Harry.
“Love, stop that. What your house looks like doesn't matter to me one bit. I
don’t care about that. I care about the fact that you asked me to come over,
and you want to spend time with me on Christmas Eve. You didn’t even
have to get me anything, just that you want me around is enough. I...” Louis
pauses before he voices the thought that is on the tip of his tongue, his voice
barely above a whisper, too afraid of their classmates overhearing. He licks
his lips before he finishes, deciding to go with a variation of what he was
about to say. “I like you, a lot.”
“I like you, a lot, too,” Harry murmurs looking down and blushing again.
Holy fuck. Louis feels like that whispered sentence is one of the most
important things Harry has ever said to him. He doesn't know why, but it
just feels pivotal somehow. Like something shifted again, another wall
around his heart came crashing down. For once in his life, Louis can’t wait
until his birthday. Too bad it is still a few weeks away.
__________
“Is your mom coming tonight?” Harry hears Louis ask, snapping him out of
his thoughts. He looks up when Louis takes a seat in the chair in front of
him, looking at him curiously. Harry almost lies, but decides he should go
with the truth.
“Yeah. She is bringing her friend Robin,” Harry tells him, crossing his arms
and rolling his eyes. He can’t believe she is even coming, and by the
surprised look on Louis’ face, he seems to agree with the sentiment. Harry
thinks Robin talked her into it, though. Ever since she met him a month ago,
he has been meddling a bit in their relationship. Not in a pushy way, but
Harry really wants to tell him that there is no way of fixing something so
broken. He figures that Robin will get the picture sooner or later, and leave
like all of her other failed relationships have before.
“Who’s Robin?” Louis asks, curiously. Harry decides to play it down,

knowing Louis will get all happy for his mom. It’s not that Harry isn’t
happy, he has just seen it all before. He doesn’t want to have to explain to
Louis what happened when Robin eventually leaves their lives like
everyone else.
“Just some guy she’s been seeing. Nothing serious. Just like a passing
fling,” Harry tells him, and Louis nods in understanding. He didn’t
completely lie. Robin could very well be a passing fling. Harry is definitely
not going to get attached to him even if he did somehow convince his mom
to come to his Holiday Concert for choir. He seems nice enough, but that
doesn’t mean Harry is just going to start calling him ‘Dad’ or whatever.
“Where are Niall and Liam? Figured they would be here already. We were
supposed to be here two hours early, even though I have no idea why,”
Louis says, glancing down at the time on his phone then back up at Harry.
Louis is wearing a dark blue sweater with white horizontal stripes across
the chest and arms. Perched on his head is a red Santa hat, and he looks
adorable. Mr. Tennent told them to dress nice and festive, so Harry wore a
black t-shirt and his black skinny jeans because fuck that. He doesn’t really
like Christmas, and he hates that he has to participate in this stupid Holiday
Concert. Harry doesn’t even think he owns anything that would be deemed
‘festive’.
Suddenly an idea pops into Harry’s head, so he decides to act on it before

he loses his nerve. He looks around the almost empty room to make sure
nobody is paying attention, then leans towards Louis, lowering his voice.
“Wanna maybe find somewhere a little more quiet and dark for a bit?”
Harry asks, cock already twitching in his jeans from the thought. He can’t
believe he actually just asked that, however, he is a teenage boy, and he
really just wants to taste Louis again.
“Why Harold? What are you suggesting?” Louis asks, a teasing glint in his
blue eyes, making them sparkle in the light of the room. A warm feeling
floods Harry’s chest then, not for the first time, that puts butterflies in his
stomach and makes his heart race. How is Louis so beautiful, and why
would someone so beautiful want anything to do with him? Harry lets that
feeling of warmth that has taken over his being give him courage to
respond.
“I’m suggesting that we find somewhere dark and secluded, so I can suck
you off again,” Harry says, trying to keep a confident smirk on his face,
despite the fact that his heart is beating erratically and his palms are sweaty.
He can’t believe he just said that. He has been becoming more confident
with Louis, and even though they have whatever it is that they have going
on between them, he never thought he would ever have the courage to say
anything like that. He swallows the lump in his throat and tries to quiet the
panic in his mind about it being the wrong thing to say. Fuck. What if Louis
doesn't want to? What if he prefers just fucking around during school
because he gets off on the idea of being caught? What if he just isn’t into
Harry anymore?
“I’d love to,” Louis responds with a wide smile and stands up freezing
when they see Niall and Liam staring at them.
“Where are you two off too?” Liam asks, and Niall is just smiling at them,
as if to say ‘Yes, Harold. Wherever are you two off too?’ Fucking dick.
Harry glances over to Louis, signs of panic etched into his face.
“Umm-- We were going to see if Harry’s mom is here yet,” Louis lies, the
words slipping easily from his lips. It’s not the first time Harry has heard
him lie so easily, but it certainly still shocks him at how believable it is.
Louis is quick witted and thinks on his feet. It is kind of hot, if Harry is
being honest, and the boy can definitely produce a convincing lie when the
occasion calls for it. He is a smart liar too, keeping as close to the truth as
possible and making it believable.
“Oh. I didn’t know she was coming,” Niall says, like he actually believes
Louis. Although, he probably doesn’t.
“Yeah, she is, anyways, we will be back,” Harry responds, and before Louis
can say anything else, he pushes him out the door. Once they are far enough
away from the room they just exited, they hold hands as they make their
way into the main building. The hallways are quiet and dark, perfect for
what they want. Harry starts turning door knobs when they are far enough
away from the gym that they probably won't get caught, until he finds one
that is unlocked. It is their chemistry classroom, but it will work. Louis
flicks the switch by the door, bathing the room in a bright, fluorescent light.
A thrill shoots down Harry’s spine at the idea of getting caught though, so
he shuts the door quietly, locking it, just in case.
“You really are full of great ideas,” Louis starts with a mischievous smile,
but Harry doesn’t give him time to continue. He is too turned on by the
situation and the way Louis looks, so he pushes Louis against the old
chalkboard and kisses him harshly. For the first time, there is no pretenses
of chastity. Harry feels brave and mad with lust, so he just parts Louis’ lips
with his tongue and delves into Louis’ waiting mouth. Louis seems shocked
by the action but recovers quickly, bringing his hands up to pull at Harry’s
hair deepening the kiss while pressing their fronts together. Harry is
surprised to feel Louis already hard, his erection noticeable in his jeans, the
friction making Harry’s eyes roll back into his head. Maybe Louis is really
attracted to him. He has no idea why, but he doesn’t really want to question
it when Louis is rutting against him.
Suddenly, Harry remembers the Drarry fanfic he was reading last night.
There was a blowjob scene in it, and well, it gave him some ideas. He also
really wants to taste Louis again, so sue him. He breaks their kiss to drop to
his knees in front of Louis, allowing a smirk to take over his features. Now
that he has done this before, he feels a bit more confident in his abilities. He
has made Louis come multiple times now, so he can’t be all that bad. Unlike
the darkness of the back stairwell, though, there is light, which only makes
him feel slightly more exposed. Louis can see him this time as he does it.
He isn’t sure if that scares him or turns him on more. Probably both. Harry
is going to go with both.
_________
Louis can’t fucking believe this. Harry just dropped to his knees in front of
him and is looking up at him with bright green eyes, biting his red, kiss
bitten lips. Louis wants to die, but he wants his dick sucked more. So Louis
will stay alive, even if it is only for the next five minutes, because he
doesn’t think he will last much longer given the way Harry currently looks.
His cheeks are red and his curls are a mess from Louis’ fingers. Harry
doesn’t say anything as he tries to yank Louis’ jeans halfway down his
thighs.
“Fuck, Haz. You sure?” Louis asks, wanting to make sure Harry is one
hundred percent comfortable with the turn of events. Harry just nods then
starts to undo the button and fly of Louis’ jeans. Louis lets his head fall
back against the chalk board when he feels Harry’s large, ringed hand
wrapping around his dick, giving it a few good tugs. The Santa hat on his
head falls down on his forehead a little bit more with the movement, but
Louis doesn't really care because when he glances back down, Harry is
staring at his shaft and licking his lips like a starved man. Louis doesn't
know where this confident side of Harry came from, but he isn’t going to
question it. He kind of loves it, honestly. If Harry wasn’t so insecure, he
could be a fucking porn star with his looks alone. Louis is fucked if Harry
ever figures this out about himself, but at the same time, Louis hopes he
does. He wants to build him up.
“Oh God,” Louis whispers when he feels Harry’s lips wrap around his dick,
sucking gently. He glances down to see Harry smirking at him, even with a
dick in his mouth, probably thinking about some comment on Louis’ choice
of phrase. Louis doesn't care, though, because Harry’s mouth is hot, wet and
fucking perfect. He flicks his tongue over Louis’ slit, prompting Louis to
release another moan into the empty classroom. He needs a fucking
distraction, or he is going to come too soon.
“I love watching you suck me off, love,” Louis says, looking down again,
and fuck, that may have been a mistake. Harry looks indecent with his red
lips wrapped around Louis’ dick. He keeps his eyes trained on Louis’ as he
begins sliding his mouth up and down, making Louis’ shaft wet with his
spit. His eyes are dark, the pupils dilated to make them look almost black.
He has a tiny bit of spit making its way down his chin, and Louis can’t stop
his hands from coming down to feel Harry’s hollowed cheek. He can feel
his own dick poking against the stretched skin, and it is almost too much.
Fuck. They need to do more stuff with the lights on.
“You’re doing so good. You’re so good at sucking my dick. Fuck, Harry.

You should see yourself right now. You look down right obscene...” Louis
sentence trails off when he feels Harry grabbing his ass hard, pulling him
further into his mouth. Louis briefly wonders if he will have bruises from
the harsh grip, but he decides he doesn’t care as long as they are the same
size and shape as Harry’s fingers. He likes the reminder that what they have
is real. That it isn’t just a dream or a figment of his imagination. Sometimes
though, he will see the marks and feel guilty about what he is doing with
Harry. What he is doing against God, but he tries to push those thoughts
away, preferring to ignore them for the moment.
He feels it when Harry pauses, the cold air hitting his now hot dick, but he
doesn’t bother looking down, too lost in sensations, plus Harry is back on
him before he even notices the loss, sucking hard enough to make Louis’
eyes roll back into his head in pleasure. Louis eyes snap back to Harry in
surprise because holy fucking shit, did Harry just do what Louis thinks he
did? “Fuck, Harry. Shit. Do that again,” Louis pleads, looking down at
Harry with what are probably desperate eyes. Harry nods, and sucks Louis
hard then Louis feels it again, Harry’s wet finger gently pressing over his
tight hole. Not firm enough to penetrate, but just enough to let Louis know
that it’s there.
“God. Fuck. Gonna make me come,” Louis rasps, hips automatically

starting to fuck into Harry’s wet heat. To Harry’s credit, he manages to not
gag even though he hasn’t done this many times before. He just nods his
head and keeps sucking, hollowing out his cheeks even more with the
effort. He keeps his finger pressed against Louis’ hole, just letting him
know that it’s there while he grips Louis’ ass hard, guiding his motions a
bit. It’s a lot, and Louis feels like he is going to explode. He needs to
actually warn Harry. Yes. Just because Harry swallowed before doesn’t
mean he will do it again, so Louis must somehow manage to form coherent
words.
“Harry. I’m so fucking close. Fuck. Harry, please,” Louis says, and he isn’t
even sure what he is begging for. Maybe it’s for Harry to push his finger in,
or maybe for Harry to keep sucking him. Maybe he is begging God for
salvation and forgiveness of his sins, but God isn’t here. Harry is. He is
begging Harry, not God. When Harry doesn’t pull off, instead pushing his
finger just a tiny bit harder, Louis’ silent prayers are answered by Harry, not
God. Louis comes with a strangled sound, releasing into Harry’s mouth.
Harry moans around his dick, swallowing every drop and sucking for more.
Louis’ eyes sting with unshed tears, even though he isn’t sure why. He just
feels completely overwhelmed as he watches the boy in front of him slowly
pull off, smiling up at him. His beautiful contradiction of a boy. Harry, who
looks so broken when he thinks people aren’t paying him any attention.
Harry, who believes that no one would ever want to have any kind of
relationship or friendship with him. Louis’ chest aches with that. He pulls
Harry to his feet and kisses him for a few seconds, moaning at the taste of
himself on Harry’s tongue.
“Hold this,” Louis says, an idea forming in his head. He has had this done
to him before, but he was drunk as fuck. He just wants to give Harry
something special. Another experience. He loves watching Harry
experience new things sexually. He loves being that for him. The thought of
that alone has Louis’ spent dick twitching again. He takes off his Santa hat
and places it on Harry’s head. He forgot he was wearing it, but it looks cute
on Harry. Louis would laugh at the fact that he just received a blow job
while wearing a stupid Santa hat, but he pulls up his pants and sinks to his
knees. He can see the outline of Harry’s hard shaft pressed deliciously
against the fabric of his tight jeans. Louis doesn’t say anything as he
quickly unbuttons and unzips Harry’s pants, pulling the waistband of his
underwear down, allowing Harry’s hard dick to spring free. Louis licks his
lips, but doesn’t taste it, deciding to do something completely different
instead.
He reaches for Harry’s hand and wraps his long fingers around his own
dick. Harry looks surprised by the change of events and a little confused.
Louis uses one small hand to push his brown hair off his forehead, running
his fingers through the matted down strands to put some life back into them
then looks up at Harry. “I want you to come on my face.” Harry’s mouth
falls open in shock, looking somewhat comical with the Santa hat perched
on his dark curls. Louis sees out of the corner of his eye that Harry’s dick
actually twitches in his hand as he tightens his grip on it. He likes the
suggestion.
“I-- I can’t,” Harry stutters, looking down at Louis as if he has two heads.
Technically Louis does have two heads, but one is currently spent and in his
pants. Louis doesn’t say that outloud though, instead opting to sink further
into the hard ground, parting his legs a bit, so that his face is right under
Harry’s dick. Harry’s eyes widen even more, like he can’t believe Louis is
actually serious, but he is. He is so fucking serious, his own spent dick is
twitching in pathetic interest at the whole idea.
“Yes, you can. I want you to. Please. Come on my face,” Louis asks,
making his eyes wide and honest because fuck does he want Harry to. So
fucking bad. Harry gulps and nods, but seems frozen to the spot, his dick
clutched in one big hand. Louis decides to help him out and wraps his
fingers around Harry’s wrist, starting the motion. Harry gets the idea after
that, beginning to stroke himself at a steady rhythm. Instead of waiting for
it, Louis decides to talk, wanting to help Harry along because he is getting
turned on again, and they don’t have time for another orgasm.
“Yeah. That’s it. Look so good getting yourself off for me. Fuck,” Louis
says, watching the motion of his big hand. Louis is starting to have an
obsession with his hands. Well, who is he kidding? Louis has had an
obsession with his hands since he met the guy, but now he knows what he
can do with those hands. What he may eventually do with those fingers, and
that has Louis’ wanking fantasies running wild. It didn’t help that Harry had
gotten brave moments ago and had one long finger pressed against his hole
enticingly.
“Oh fuck, Lou,” Harry moans, his hand working faster, the sound of his
balls slapping against his fist reverberating throughout the room. Louis can
tell he is close just from the twitch in his legs and the sound of his voice. He
has the cadence memorized now, wanting to relive it every chance he can
get.
“Come on, love. Mark me, so they will know who I belong to. Wanna feel
it,” Louis says. Harry moans long and low, prompting Louis to close his
eyes, knowing what is about to come, literally. He feels the first strand hit
his face, directly under his eye. The next falls across his nose. Another
ribbon lands on his left eye, making the eyelashes stick to his cheek. The
final rope lands across his lips. It’s hot on his skin, feeling like it is burning
him, and he can’t suppress the moan. He hears Harry mumble a string of
profanities when Louis begins licking his lips, not opening his eyes to do
so. Harry’s come is warm and salty in his mouth, perfect really.
“Hold on, baby, let me grab a paper towel.” He hears Harry say, and he
remembers they are in the Chemistry classroom, which has a sink and is
stocked with paper towels and soap incase of a chemical spill. Thank God
they chose this classroom, and it just so happened to be unlocked because
Louis doesn’t know if he could have waited for Harry to sneak out to go to
the bathroom and return. He hears the water turn on then off, a moment
later Harry is gently wiping a damp paper towel across his face. Louis
doesn’t move as Harry continues to clean his own release from his skin.
After Harry pulls away, Louis opens his eyes to find Harry staring at him
almost in awe.
“Thank you, love,” Louis rasps out. Harry holds out his hands to him, and
Louis takes them allowing the taller boy to help him up. He is grateful, his
legs were starting to go numb from the position. Harry holds him steady for
a few seconds, making sure Louis has his footing, his hands warm and sure
on Louis’ hips.
“You're welcome.” Harry punctuates the sentence with a kiss on Louis’

nose. “Ready to go back?They are probably wondering where we are.”
“Yeah, let’s go,” Louis responds, walking with Harry out of the classroom,
shutting the lights off behind him. They make their way back towards the
choir room, finding it now full of people talking amongst themselves. Liam
and Niall wave them over as soon as they see them, smiling happily, but
Harry panics when he sees that Liam looks suspicious.
“Harry, why are you wearing Louis’ hat?” Liam asks, eyes squinting with
the question, an uncertainty to his tone. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Louis forgot he
put his hat on Harry’s head. He watches as Harry brings one hand up to
touch the soft material, looking just as panicked as Louis feels. Louis needs
to think fast.
“Um-- I told Harold here he needed some more Christmas Spirit, so I made
him wear my hat. Looks good on him, doesn’t it?” Louis asks, looking over
at Harry with a convincing smile.
“Yeah. Looks great,” Liam says smiling back, seeming to believe the lie.
Jesus. That was fucking close. They should be more careful, or Liam is
going to figure it out. Louis, in a really fucked up way, kind of wants him to
though. Liam is his best friend. The closest he has been with a person since
his Mom married Mark, and they began uprooting his life every six months,
if he doesn’t count Harry, that is. Would Liam finding out be the end of the
world? Probably. He may be disgusted by the idea and think Louis a
pervert. He could tell everyone in the church. He could hate Louis. Nope.
Louis can never tell his friend. Ever.
They spend the rest of the time talking and practicing for the concert. The
concert itself goes off without a hitch. Louis looks around the crowd to try
to find Harry’s mother, but he has no luck. He has no idea what the woman
even looks like, or what the man she is with looks like for that matter. He is
very curious though. He wants to put a face to Harry’s mom in his head.
Harry has met his entire family at this point, so it is strange to Louis for
Anne to be such a mystery. After the concert ends, Louis finds Harry,
hoping that maybe, just maybe, he can get an introduction.
“Hey, that went pretty well,” Louis starts, looking around the gymnasium
but not seeing anyone coming towards them. He sees his own mom, Lottie
and Fizzy. Mark must have agreed to keep the younger girls home. She is
talking to someone though, so Louis doesn’t feel all that rushed.
“Yeah. Not terrible I guess,” Harry responds looking at him. He is still

wearing the Santa hat, which makes Louis smile. Harry wearing something
of his just does something to him, even if it is something as ridiculous as a
Santa hat. Harry suddenly looks nervous, so Louis looks around trying to
find the reason behind it. Finally he spots a woman coming towards them,
smiling, her dimples popping. She is beautiful, and Harry looks so much
like her, it is startling. She has long dark hair and kind eyes, not at all what
Louis was expecting. She looks tired, though, like she worries a lot and
works long days. She is holding the hand of a man. He is about her height
with salt and pepper hair and a gray beard. He, too, is smiling. That must be
Robin. He seems kind, and Louis likes him already. Louis gets the feeling,
though, that Anne and Robin are more serious than Harry admitted earlier.
“Harry. That was lovely. Maybe next time you will get a solo,” Anne says,
smiling at her son. She doesn’t move to hug him or kiss his cheek though,
which is kind of odd to Louis. His mother would have done that. Robin
though, claps him on the bicep, smiling proudly. Harry looks down at his
pigeon toed feet, blushing slightly.
“Yeah, maybe. Umm-- Mom, Robin, I want to introduce you to my friend,
Louis. Louis this is my Mom and Robin.” Louis smiles at them and shakes
their hand. The word friend doesn’t sit right with him, but he has to deal.
They haven’t put a label on what they are, and even if they had, they can’t
tell anyone except maybe Willow or Niall.
“I didn’t know Harry had a friend other than Niall,” Anne says, and Louis
can tell she didn’t mean the comment in a malicious way, but that doesn’t
stop the hurt that briefly crosses Harry’s features.
“Yeah. He has lots of friends, actually,” Louis tells her, and it isn’t a lie.
Harry may not realize it just yet, but he has Niall, Liam, Willow and Tara.
They all hang out together often enough and talk. Harry can be in denial all
he likes, but he has friends. Good friends.
“Oh. Well, he didn’t tell me,” Anne replies, and that comment was probably
meant to hurt Harry because she looks at him pointedly when she says it.
Harry looks down again, kicking at nothing on the fake wood floor. Louis
almost wants to roll his eyes and say ‘that may be because you are never
home and never bothered to ask’, but he keeps his mouth shut, wanting to
make a somewhat good impression.
“He loves his secrets I guess,” Louis decides to say, poking Harry in the
ribs with his elbow and laughing. Harry chuckles too, as if it is funny. It
isn’t, but Anne and Robin are smiling. Louis glances over to see his mom
heading in their direction then, so he knows he needs to bow out. He
doesn’t really want Jay and Anne meeting just yet, knowing that his mom
may say something about the fact that Harry spent Thanksgiving with them.
He doesn't want to embarrass Harry further.
“Well, I think my mom wants to go, so I have to cut this short. It was nice
meeting you Mrs. Styles and-- umm-- Robin.” Anne and Robin both nod
their head and smile politely. “Hazza, I’ll see you at school on Monday.” He
shoots Harry a sly wink and grips his forearm for the briefest of seconds
before he leaves the group, making his way towards his mom. Harry smiles
at him as he does so, and Louis’ heart melts just a bit.
Chapter End Notes
Half God Half Devil
Chapter Summary
Louis goes to Harry's house for Christmas Eve.

Chapter Notes
This is probably one of my fave chaps! I hope you enjoy xx.
I won’t pretend that I resist temptation
I think it’s funny when you preach damnation
I’ve been to hell and back and now it’s just a part of me
Without the darkness there’d be no light in me- In This Moment
“We are going to head to bed, Lou. You know your sisters are going to have
us up early tomorrow to open their presents from Santa,” his mom says,
poking her head through the door. Louis is under the blankets on his bed,
covered from chin to toes, pretending he is going to bed.
“Okay, Mom. I will probably go to bed myself,” Louis responds, faking a

yawn. An Oscar. That’s what he deserves. He feels the butterflies in his
stomach as he glances towards the clock perched on his bedside table. It’s
9:30 pm, so perfect timing. He will give his mom and Mark half an hour to
fall asleep, then sneak out through the front door. He normally sneaks out
through his window and climbs down the tree, but Harry’s present it too big
for that, therefore he is going to have to chance going through the front
door. He is leaving his window unlocked though, so he can sneak back in
through it.
“Okay. Happy Birthday, Boobear. I know we didn’t really do anything, but

you know with it being Christmas Eve, it’s hard. We had to go to church for
their Christmas play that your sisters were in, so it just wasn’t feasible this
year,” she tells him, her eyes sad and apologetic, but Louis really doesn’t
want to hear it. She uses the same excuse every single year. Mark doesn’t
even excuse himself anymore, just tells him Happy Birthday in the morning
and moves on to other Christmas activities. Louis guesses Jesus’ birthday is
more important than his own to his parents. It shouldn’t bother him
anymore, but it does. It hurts, but he pretends he’s okay with it. It’s easier
that way. He doesn’t even get presents on his birthday anymore, Mark and
his mom, instead, choosing to just add them to his Christmas presents,
wrapped in the same paper and all.
“Thanks, Mom. It’s okay, I understand. Night,” Louis lies, blinking back
tears. He closes his eyes for a moment, silently telling himself not to cry. He
doesn’t want to deal with questions from his mom and then subsequently
more lies. He just wants her to leave, so he can sneak out and be with Harry.
At the thought of Harry, his chest erupts with happiness, the tears holding
back because of it. He is just over half an hour away from seeing Harry. He
hasn’t seen him in a while, and it has been killing him. They text all the
time, but since school had let out for the break, they haven’t actually spent
time together. That is going to change after tonight though.
“Night, love,” His mom replies. He smiles at her as she turns off the light
and shuts the door with a soft click. He doesn't count the seconds and
minutes as they pass by for the next half an hour. He doesn’t listen for
Mark’s tell-tale snores as a sign that the man has fallen asleep. He doesn’t
take notice of each little groan or creak the house makes as it settles for the
night. He doesn’t. When he finally decides it is safe enough, he gets out of
the bed, already fully dressed. He grabs his coat and reaches under the bed
for the large box he has wrapped Harry’s present in. He is so excited to give
it to him. He silently sneaks out of his house with not so much as a hiccup
in his plan. He carries the large present under one arm for a moment as he
pulls his hood over his head, serving the purpose of covering his face from
others that may be out and to block out the cold.
Louis sends Harry a quick text as he starts walking, letting him know that
he is on his way. The journey to Harry’s house is brief, and the streets are
deserted. It is the night before Christmas, afterall. Most people are asleep at
this point or too drunk to notice a young kid walking with a large box. The
sidewalk is lit up with both street lights the the lights from Christmas
decorations on each house. Louis is feeling anxious with excitement. He is
finally going to see Harry’s home, which is probably a big step. He tries not
to think about that too much though, too excited to give Harry his present
and spend some much needed alone time with him.
Harry’s house is dark when he gets there, the only light streaming through
the living room window seeming to look almost like it is flickering. The
structure isn’t decorated with decorations like the other houses around it,
making it seem even more dark and dreary, almost menacing. Louis’ own
house has been decorated since before Thanksgiving, Mark forcing him to
go out one warm day to help hand him lights and put out those ridiculously
large blow up lawn decorations. Louis takes one more deep breath before he
goes up the front steps, quickly walks across the porch and knocks on the
door before he loses his nerve. He listens as footsteps come to the door,
then hears the sound of a deadbolt unlocking.
“You’re here,” Harry greets, looking somewhat surprised. The light from
what is most likely the living room is framing his body, allowing Louis to
take in his appearance. Harry is wearing his normal band T-shirt and black
jeans. There are white finger prints on the hem of the shirt though, as if
Harry had something on his hands and pulled the item of clothing down. He
looks nervous. His feet are turned inward, and he isn’t meeting Louis’ eyes
as he absentmindedly plays with his rings.
“‘Course I am, love,” Louis replies, trying to relax the other boy. His
shoulders release their tension just the tiniest bit. Louis will take it.
“Come in,” Harry stutters out, stepping out of the way as ushers Louis
inside. The first thing Louis notices when he walks through the door is that
it is cold and drafty, the temperature not being too different than it is
outside.
“Sorry it’s cold,” Harry apologizes as if reading Louis’ mind, still not
meeting his gaze. “I just started the fire though, so it should warm up soon.”
They seemed to have stepped into a small entryway with stairs directly to
the left. Louis can’t see into the living room yet, but can smell the fire and
hear it crackling, the scent of burning wood mixing with something
distinctly musty.
“It’s fine, Haz,” Louis says, smiling when Harry glances up. “Should I take
off my shoes?”
“Nah. The carpet is pretty gross, can’t do much worse than what it already
is,” Harry says, and Louis tries to cover up the shock on his face. His
mother would murder him if he even so much as tried to wear his shoes in
the house. He looks down at Harry’s socked feet. He has a large hole, the tip
of his toe poking out. Louis just nods and toes off his shoes anyways,
wanting to be comfortable.
“Umm-- is that for me?” Harry asks, pointing to the large present in Louis’
hand wrapped messily in green paper. Louis smiles and nods. “You didn’t
have to do that, Lou…” Harry starts, but Louis cuts him off.
“It’s your Christmas present. ‘Course I did,” Louis says with another huge
smile. “Do you wanna exchange them now?”
“What’s Christmas? I don’t know of a Christmas. I only know that it’s your
birthday,” Harry responds and walks through the entryway some more,
stepping through an open doorway. Louis is very confused by Harry’s
statement and starts to ask as he follows him, but his breath leaves him in
surprise. The small living room is completely decorated for Louis’ birthday.
A handmade banner that says ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LOU’ in big blue
letters is hung on one of the walls. There are streamers of various colors
everywhere, and helium filled balloons floating around tied to every
available surface with different birthday messages on each one.
“What’s all of this?” Louis asks, his mouth hanging open in shock. He
blinks back tears as he takes in the room around him, not knowing where to
look first. Harry seems to have bought everything birthday related the dollar
store had, and what they didn’t have, he seems to have handmade. The ugly
stained wallpaper that is peeling in many places is covered in signs and
streamers.
“It’s your birthday party! Happy Birthday!” Harry exclaims with a huge
smile on his face, dimples popping as he places a pointy birthday hat on
Louis’ head, pulling the stretchy string under his chin. Louis looks to see
Harry wearing one of his own, his wild curls all around it, and his chest
suddenly feels warm and light, as though his heart is going to burst out of it
at any second. He just can’t believe someone did this for him. He can’t
remember the last time he had a birthday party, since he has his birthday on
the most unfortunate day of the year. When he was young, he used to hate
almost sharing a birthday with Jesus, and now that he knows that Jesus
wasn’t born on this day, he hates it even more. Some random person
decided that this was a great day to celebrate and completely fucked Louis’
own birthday over.
“Oh my God, Haz! I can’t fucking believe this!” Louis exclaims, looking
around the living room again. Now that he looks at it, he can see some
Christmas decorations hung under the birthday ones. Harry had placed a
large banner over the stocking hung over the fireplace. There is a decorated
tree in the corner of the room. It is small and kind of pitiful, with a few
presents under it. Louis briefly wonders where the other presents are, but is
stopped from asking questions when he hears Harry’s deep voice behind
him.
“I know it’s not much of a party since it’s just me, but-- umm-- I
decorated,” Harry explains, looking down sheepishly. Louis has the sudden
urge to kiss him, so he does. He keeps it sweet and chaste, just wanting to
taste Harry’s lips on his own. They taste sweet, as if he had been eating
something sugary recently.
“No. I love it, so much. Thank you, Harry,” Louis tells him sincerely,
breaking the kiss and placing a hand over Harry’s rapidly beating heart. He
is suddenly overcome with emotions. Harry did this for him. He went out of
his way to give Louis a birthday party and recognize a day that has been all
but forgotten by most of the people in Louis’ life. He sniffles then and rubs
his eye, hoping it looks more like he is sleepy and less like he is crying. He
is definitely not crying. He isn’t.
“Ready for some party games?” Harry asks, taking the gift from Louis’
hand that he had forgotten he was holding and placing it to the side. He then
takes Louis’ coat, laying it over the back of the ugly green couch that looks
as if it is missing some vital stuffing with large holes at random places in
the stained, thin fabric. It has definitely seen better days.
“Party games? You’re going to play party games?” Louis asks his own
question, letting his lips form a smirk. He can’t believe Harry right now.
Decorating his living room and asking if he wanted to play party games.
Louis shifts from one foot to the other, hearing the floorboard below creak
and groan with the movement. It doesn't feel very firm, but Louis doesn’t
comment on his own safety concern. He doubts the floor would fall in, it
only sounds like it, really.
“Of course! It’s your birthday party. They have games at those don’t they?”
Harry asks, eyes shining. Louis can’t believe this is the same boy he met
months ago, that flipped him off just for looking at him. Harry smiles so
much more now, and Louis’ chest feels tight knowing he may just be the
cause of this change.
“I think so. I’m not sure, I have never had a birthday party for myself, but
my sisters always had games at theirs.” Louis shrugs with his own smile,
but Harry’s face falls.
“How come you’ve never had a party, but your sisters have? That hardly
seems fair,” Harry questions, making his adorable grumpy frog face that
Louis kind of wants to kiss. He would never tell Harry that, though. He
would prefer to live to see Graduation, thank you very much.
“My birthday is on Christmas eve. It’s easy to ignore I suppose,” Louis says
with another shrug, but he knows he doesn’t do a very good job of keeping
the pain and disappointment from his voice since the crease between
Harry’s brows deepens.
“I don’t know this Christmas you speak of. Today is your birthday, nothing
else. So let's start with a game shall we?” Harry asks, his smile returning
tenfold, and Louis kind of wants to cry. Instead he smiles back and nods.
Harry then produces a green silk scarf from the table. Well, it is most likely
not silk, but a silk like material. Louis raises his eyebrows in confusion.
“Haz! I didn’t know you were ready for something so kinky,” Louis tells
him with a wicked smirk. Harry freeze and gapes at him. It’s adorable, and
Louis can’t help but burst into laughter.
“Get your head out of the gutter. We are playing pin the tail on the donkey,”
Harry says, gesturing towards the wall that Louis just now notices has a
cartoon donkey’s ass on it. He hands Louis a tail with a pin in it and begins
to fold the scarf around his face, blocking out his vision. It smells like
Harry, and Louis’ dick twitches in interest.
“Won’t your mom get mad that we are putting holes in her wall?” Louis
asks, feeling Harry’s nimble fingers carefully tie the scarf at the back of his
head. He hears Harry release a deep chuckle from behind him, his breath
ghosting over the back of his neck making the hair there stand on end. He
feels like all of his other senses are amplified since he has now lost his
sight.
“Nope. There is much worse on the walls. I doubt she will even notice,”
Harry responds, laying his large hands on Louis’ shoulders, the warmth
soaking in through the material of his shirt. The house is starting to get
warm from the fire. Louis smiles imagining Harry starting it before Louis
had arrived. He didn’t know Harry knew how to build a fire, but he guesses
people learn to do the things they need to to survive. He hates that Harry
has to do these things though. Other people have centralized electric heat in
their house, but Harry doesn't have that luxury. It’s odd, but Louis had never
thought about it as a luxury until now. Why would something so necessary
as heat be considered a luxury? How is that fair?
“Okay? Ready?” Harry asks, deep voice breaking Louis out of his dark
thoughts. Louis shakes his head a bit, trying to clear it then nods. Harry’s
hands then grip his shoulders, and he begins to spin him in circles. Louis
can’t help but laugh as he stumbles around, listening to the echo of Harry’s
laugh in his own ears. After what could be five or a dozen turns, Louis feels
Harry’s hands on his hips, steadying him. Louis is sufficiently dizzy and
blind, so it’s nice. “Okay, the donkey is directly in front of you.”
“Okay,” Louis responds, taking a tentative step out of the comfort of

Harry’s hands towards his destination. He sticks one hand out to feel in
front of him, so he doesn’t run face first into a wall. After a few more slow
and slightly staggering steps he feels the cool surface of the wall. He feels
around for a few seconds before his fingers come into contact with what is
definitely a poster. His arm is unsteady as he pulls it up, pinning in to what
he hopes is the rear of the cartoon donkey. He doesn't think so, since Harry
bursts out laughing behind him. “How did I do?”
“Great, babe,” Harry answers through another fit of giggles. Louis can feel
his cheeks reddening from what may be embarrassment as he reaches a
hand up to pull the scarf from his head, wincing when a few strands of hair
that were caught in the knot pull. He blinks a few times, allowing his eyes
to get used to the new light they are now flooded with. He looks at the
picture in front of him and realizes he has pinned the tail on the donkey’s
nose, nowhere near it’s ass.
“It’s harder than it looks.” Louis’ cheeks heat even more as he turns around
to see Harry bent over in a fit of laughter, making the look of offence on
Louis’ face morph into his own smile. “I’d like to see you do it.” He tries to
stop the laugh from erupting from his chest, but it doesn't work especially
with Harry still laughing, his green eyes shining in the light of the living
room. Louis has never seen anything so fucking beautiful.
“I will. I have to participate in the party games, too,” Harry says after a few
moments, wiping his eyes with his thumbs. He then takes a marker from his
pocket and goes up to the picture of the donkey. Once he pulls the tail from
its nose, he marks the spot with a black ‘X’. Louis gives Harry a smirk, and
rolls his finger in the air in a silent gesture telling Harry to turn around.
Harry does as asked, and Louis can almost see the grin on his face from the
back of his head when he bends his knees a bit, so Louis can reach. Louis
hates him, but not really. He ties the silk material around Harry’s head,
careful not to tangle his curls in the knot.
“Ready?” Louis asks, pulling his hands off Harry’s hips, enjoying the feel
of the love handles there below his finger tips. Harry nods in the
affirmative, his dark curls bouncing around the material of the scarf. Louis
then begins using Harry’s hips to spin him in circles. He spins him exactly
thirteen times before he stops, pointing him in the direction of the donkey.
“It’s right in front of you.” He pushes Harry lightly, releasing his hips. It
almost kills him to do so, but this is way funnier. Harry slowly stumbles
towards the wall with one large palm out in front of him. He looks like
Bambi learning to walk, and Louis is hopelessly endeared.
Louis tries not to laugh as he watches Harry feel around for the picture. He
feels all corners first, then traces around the whole thing, seeming to decide
where the middle of each edge was. He then uses two fingers to trial a line
down the middle of the page then back up. It is an interesting technique,
and Louis can’t fucking believe it when Harry pins the tail almost exactly in
the correct location. Holy shit. Harry is brilliant. Louis would have never
thought about using that technique. Louis doesn’t laugh, his mouth is too
busy gaping open in surprise.
“How did I do?” Harry asks, removing the scarf his expression morphing
into one of surprise when he sees how well he did. Louis would normally
accuse him of cheating, but Harry looks so happy about the fact that he did
better than Louis, he can’t bring himself to do it. Instead a feeling that can
only be described as pride washes over him, a smile spreading across his
face, his eyes crinkling in the corners.
“I’m so proud of you, love,” Louis says, letting the feeling come out in his
words. He moves over and brings Harry into a hug, smiling wider when he
feels Harry’s long arms wrap around his waist. He knows it’s stupid to be
celebrating something so trivial, but he is just having so much fun on his
birthday. He is so thankful for the boy in his arms that he can’t even begin
to form words about it. After they break apart, they play the game again,
Harry winning for a second time. They then move on to play charades,
laughing and giggling through it.
“Oh! Time for your present!” Harry looks at his watch, then gets up from
his place on the couch. Louis thought the birthday party was his present, but
apparently Harry has other ideas.
“Do you wanna open your Christmas present first?” Louis asks, stopping
Harry in his tracks.
“Louis, I told you, Christmas doesn’t exist until midnight. Until then, it is
your birthday. No more Christmas speak. I will not hear it. Now stay here.”
Harry then turns on his heels and flicks off the light as he goes through the
door to what Louis assumes is the kitchen. Harry returns a few moments
later, with a cake balanced in his large hands. Even in the dark, Louis can
see the round surface is decorated with blue frosting, multi colored
sprinkles all over it. It is clearly homemade, one side slightly lower than the
other, with candles in the shape of a one and a nine pushed into the surface
in the middle, their tops lit and providing the only light in the room besides
the fireplace. Louis blinks back tears, then Harry starts to sing.
Happy Birthday to Lou
Happy Birthday to Lou
Happy Birthday dear, Boobear
Happy Birthday to you
His deep voice finishes the words, and Louis is openly crying now. He can’t
believe someone went through the trouble of baking him a birthday cake.
Louis hasn’t had a birthday cake in at least ten years, probably more if he
really thinks about it. Harry has given him the best birthday present he
could ever ask for, and he has no idea how to repay him.
“Make a wish, babe,” Harry says, smiling. He probably doesn’t see Louis’
tears, but Louis laughs and nods. He closes his eyes and wishes to never
lose Harry as he puckers his lips and blows out the candles. Harry cheers,
but doesn’t move to turn the light back on, leaving the living room lit by
just the fire. It is soft and beautiful, making everything that much more
perfect.
“Why are you crying? Is this terrible? I mean it will probably taste terrible.
I have never baked a cake before, and I did it from scratch from a recipe I
found online,” Harry rambles, quickly sitting the cake on the coffee table in
front of the couch and turning to Louis.
“No, Haz. These are happy tears. I just… I can’t believe you did this for
me. You went through all this trouble of decorating your house for my
birthday, then you baked me a cake from scratch. I know you don’t, like,
have a lot of money, so it really wasn’t necessary…” Louis sentence is cut
off by Harry’s lips, which are firm and warm against his own. Louis kisses
back once the shock wears off, running his fingers through Harry’s curls.
“It was completely necessary. Your birthday shouldn’t be forgotten because

it falls the day before some made up holiday that I kind of hate. I wanted it
to be special for you,” Harry responds, the breath from his words blowing
over Louis’ lips.
“Thank you.” Louis wants to ask why Harry hates Christmas but doesn’t
think this is the time.
“Happy Birthday, Louis. Now, do you want a slice of cake?”
__________
Louis beams up at him and nods his head vigorously. Harry’s heart melts
just a tiny bit more for the man in front of him. How could someone ever
want to forget his birthday? How could his own parents not want to make
the day special for him just because they believe it is the day before the
birthday of some debatably mythical person? It really is just another reason
for Harry to dislike religion and this day. He kisses Louis chastely one more
time then takes his hand, leading him to the old and lumpy sofa. Louis
hasn’t commented on the condition of his living space, thank the Gods, but
Harry didn’t miss the look on his face when he first walked in. Harry still
can’t believe he invited him into his house.
“Share a piece with me?” Louis asks, and Harry nods, picking up the knife
he brought with him and cuts the cake into pieces. He grabs a small plate
and places the slice on it, only grabbing one fork since they are sharing.
“You get the first bite. Let’s hope it isn’t shit,” Harry says, with a hopeful
smile as he holds a bite of cake up to Louis’ lips on the prongs of the fork.
Louis opens his mouth obediently, and Harry guides the piece of cake
inside. The way Louis closes his firm pink lips around the utensil is
downright obscene, then he moans… actually fucking moans around it as
Harry slowly removes the fork. His eyes are closed in bliss as he chews,
and Harry may or may not be holding his breath.
“Oh my God, Haz, this is so fucking good. Where did you learn to cook?
Where did you find the recipe?” Louis asks, after he swallows it. His blue
eyes are open in shock, and Harry actually believes what he is saying. He is
giving no indication that he is lying to him at all about the taste of the cake.
“Umm-- I found it online,” is all Harry is able to get out then takes a bite of
his own. He chews and decides maybe his first attempt at cooking isn’t half
bad. They sit in companionable silence for a few minutes, feeding each
other bites with the fork, licking blue icing off of each other’s fingers before
Louis speaks again.
“I know you said you don’t want to talk about Christmas, but I have a
question. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want, but I’m hoping you
will trust me with the answer,” Louis says, pulling his lower lip between his
teeth and biting down. Harry’s interest is piqued. He has no idea what Louis
would want to ask. He thinks he will answer it though.
“Ask away,” Hary responds swallowing dryly and nodding, giving Louis
his full attention. Louis looks like he is thinking about the question before
he asks it. Probably trying to decide the best way to bring it up without
offending Harry. Harry thinks he knows what it is, and his heart is beating
rapidly.
“Why do you hate Christmas, Haz? I know you said in class that Christians
stole most of their traditions from Pagans, but I feel like there is more to it
than that. Like I said, you don’t have to tell me. I just… I wanna know
everything I can about you.” The ‘let me in’ that Harry knew he wanted to
say is silent, but his eyes finish the thought. The words are soft, as if he is
afraid to scare Harry away. Harry takes another deep breath, coming to a
decision.
“I don’t really have any crazy or dark reason. I just… I don’t have very
many good memories of it growing up. Like even when I was young, I
could see the kind of stress it put on my mom to buy my sister and me
presents for it. I actually figured out Santa wasn’t real at a really young age.
I remember always asking him for something, but never ever getting it even
though every single kid I went to school with got whatever they asked for.
One year, I even convinced myself that Santa accidently dropped my
present at the wrong house because Dakota Marcum got like eight gifts
from Santa, one being the only present I asked for. After that, I kind of
figured it out. I just kind of hate the consumerism around the holidays.
Parents shouldn’t feel like shit because they can’t afford to buy their kid the
newest Xbox while kids shouldn’t feel like Santa doesn’t love them or they
are inherently bad because their parents are poor. It is just a fucked up
holiday to me,” Harry finishes, and he really can’t believe he said all of
that. Louis is the first person he has ever told. Not even Niall knows why
Harry doesn’t much care for the holiday.
“I could see why you would feel that way,” Louis responds, and he looks
slightly shocked. His voice is sad as he says it, and Harry recognizes the
look of pity as Louis’ eyes dart to their pathetic tree then back to Harry.
Harry is starting to regret his decision to be so open and honest. He should
have just kept his mouth shut or bullshitted his way through an explanation.
Then Louis does something that Harry wasn’t expecting at all. He sits the
mostly empty plate down and crawls into Harry’s lap, curling up there and
resting his head on Harry’s shoulder. Harry freezes, unsure of what to do
before he finally brings one hand up to rest on Louis’ folded knee, the other
snaking around his waist to hold him. “I’m sorry you had so many shitty
Christmases growing up, Haz.”
“Its’okay,” Harry responds, the sentence coming out as one big word as he
shrugs his shoulders, forcing Louis to bob his head. He looks at Louis to see
his eyes are cast down as he plays with the neckline of Harry’s t-shirt, his
long eyelashes casting a shadow on his freckled cheeks.
“No, it’s not. It sucks, and it isn’t fair to you. Thank you for telling me
though. I know that was probably hard for you, so thank you. I can’t change
the past, but I hope that I can make your future Christmases a bit better.”
Louis takes that moment to finally look at Harry, his azure blue eyes honest
with his words, making a lump form in Harry’s throat. Harry realizes then
that maybe Louis doesn’t really pity him. Maybe he just wants to
understand him better. Harry doesn’t pity Louis for not getting a real
birthday party from his family. He just wants to change that, so maybe this
isn’t so different. Maybe Louis just wants to change Harry’s circumstances.
He doesn’t say anything, just wraps his arms around Louis tighter and leans
in to kiss his cheekbone, right on top of a freckle. Harry then traces a path
down his cheek, ending at his lips. Louis’ small hands have somehow found
their way to around Harry’s neck and are gripping him tight, pulling him in.
Harry goes easily, subsequently deepening the kiss after.
After a few moments, Louis moves to straddle Harry’s lap, giving himself
enough leverage to deepen their kiss even more. Harry allows his hands to
slide down the small of Louis’ back, eventually landing to grip his firm ass,
Louis moaning into his mouth as he does so. If Harry wasn’t hard before, he
is now. His cock is painfully hard in his jeans, and it doesn’t help when
Louis starts grinding on him. He feels Louis’ nimble fingers on the hem of
his shirt, then before he knows it, Louis is breaking their kiss long enough
to pull the offending item off of him throwing it in an undisclosed location.
Harry doesn't give him a chance to lean back in because he needs to feel
Louis’ chest against his own, so he yanks Louis’ shirt off of him, revealing
lightly tanned skin.
Harry’s mouth waters for a taste of Louis’ sharp collarbones, watching as
the shadow deepens with Louis’ movements enticingly. So, Harry leans in
to mouth them, biting and sucking until he knows there is a mark. At least,
it is in a place that Louis can cover up easily. Louis leans his head back to
give Harry better access as he continues to moan and grind his hips, their
cocks rubbing together through the lining of their jeans. Harry feels hot all
over. Hotter than the fire burning along the wall. Hotter than the pits of hell
that he will surely go to if such a place exists. He feels like his skin is
burning from the inside, each place Louis touches becoming that much
hotter.
“Need you,” Louis whines, then promptly removes himself from Harry’s
lap. Harry is surprised, but then sees that Louis had only done it so he could
strip off the rest of his clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor at his feet
as he steps out of them. This prompts Harry to do the same, pulling down
his tight jeans and briefs, then kicks them to the side. He doesn’t know what
Louis has planned, but he assumes Louis is going to suck his cock since he
currently looks like he wants to eat him alive. Harry widens his legs,
gripping his hard length at the base to try to hold off his orgasm. He feels
his eyebrows hit his hairline when Louis straddles him again, instead of
sinking to his knees.
“What?” Harry asks, hands, of their own accord, finding their place back on
Louis’ ass, squeezing hard.
“Do you trust me?” Louis asks, looking down to keep eye contact with
Harry, given the angle. Harry finds himself nodding. He does trust Louis
when it comes to this. When it comes to sexual activities, Louis hasn’t led
him astray yet, nor has he pushed Harry further than he is comfortable with.
“Okay… remember the other day when you were blowing me in the Chem
classroom before our concert?”
“Yeah,” Harry answers, confused. He has no idea where Louis is going with
this, but his cock is so hard at this point, he would do anything for a tiny bit
of friction. Louis’ cock is lined up with his own, but slightly above so they
aren’t touching. It is driving Harry mad, so he squeezes Louis’ ass again
and begins mouthing at his collarbones, kissing the already purple bruise he
had left there earlier.
“Well do you remember what you did that really got me going?” Louis asks,
his voice light and raspy, almost whiny, as he uses one hand to grip Harry’s
jawline.
“Wha--” Harry looks up to meet Louis’ eyes when it dawns on him, his
mouth forming the shape of a small ‘o’ with the realization. Louis nods,
taking one of Harry’s hands and bringing it to his lips. Harry watches with
wide eyes as Louis kisses the tip of his index finger, telling Harry exactly
what he is thinking without using a single fucking word. Holy fucking shit.
Harry’s heart begins beating rapidly in his chest. Holy shit. He can’t do this.
He has never done anything like this before. His cock, on the other hand, is
telling him to fucking do it. He wants to know what it would feel like to be
inside of Louis, even if it is just his fingers. He doesn’t think he is ready for
full on sex, but maybe his fingers wouldn’t be a terrible idea. He did tease
Louis’ entrance last time.
“Would you like-- be okay with doing it?” Louis asks, kissing Harry’s ring
finger this time. Harry knows that if he were to say ‘no’, Louis would be
perfectly fine with it. He would probably just lean forward and let Harry get
them both off with one large hand, but Harry wants to do this. He wants to
please Louis in this way. He feels like he and Louis have both shared a lot
of themselves tonight emotionally, so this would be the next obvious step in
their sexual relationship, right?
“Yeah. Um…” Harry swallows heavily, taking a deep breath before his next
confession. “I-- I just don’t really know how. I don’t wanna hurt you.”
Harry can feel his cheeks getting warmer with the admission, but he needs
to say it. He doesn't want to hurt Louis and lying to him about his level of
experience would surely spell disaster. He holds his breath, waiting for
Louis to change his mind, but instead Louis smiles and kisses him sweetly
on the lips.
“That’s okay, love. I’ll show you,” Louis responds once he breaks the kiss.
Harry is having a hard time believing Louis real. Louis is really straddling
him in his living room on a dirty, old, worn out couch asking him to finger
him. Holy shit. He has to be dreaming. Maybe he built a fire and wanked
off to thoughts of Louis but fell asleep before he got off, and this is the
result. If Louis is a dream, then he is a damn good one because everything
feels entirely too real.
“I don’t have any lube,” Harry says, suddenly, feeling defeated. He was
totally not prepared for this turn of events. Maybe they shouldn’t do it since
he obviously didn’t think ahead, but Louis begins shaking his head and
holds something out in front of his face.
“I sorta brought a packet with me. I figured we were gonna do something,

and well, lube helps the slide even if it was just a handjob or whatever. I
wanted to be prepared,” Louis tells him then places the packet of lube in
Harry’s now shaking hand. Holy shit. This is going to happen. His fingers
are actually going to be inside of Louis. How? Just how? Harry knows his
hands are large. He knows his fingers are long and could be painful if they
were actually inside someone. Inside Louis. The other boy must be able to
read the hesitation on his face because he says, “Haz, you won’t hurt me. I
know you won’t. Trust me, okay?” Louis’ eyes are wide and honest, and
Harry believes him.
“Okay.” Harry nods once, and Louis leans in to kiss him, starting it off slow
and sweet. It doesn’t take long before their bodies start heating for each
other again, Harry’s hands finding Louis’ ass to help him rut against him,
their cocks lining up to create a delicious friction. Harry thinks he could
come like this, with Louis’ small body on his bathed in the flickering light
of the fire as he moves to the rhythm of their heartbeats.
“Fuck, Harry, I want you inside me,” Louis moans breaking their kiss, the
words going straight to Harry’s cock. Louis is breathing heavy, his bare
chest rubbing against Harry with each deep inhale. His eyes are glassy and
his hair is messy from Harry’s own fingers. He is lovely in the soft light,
making it seem as if he is literally glowing. Harry can’t get enough of him.
Can’t believe he is allowed to touch him, to kiss him. Harry does not see
himself as a good person, nor does he think he deserves good things, so he
isn’t sure what he has done in order to deserve Louis, however, he doesn’t
want to question it. If he believed in fate, maybe he would chalk it up to
that, but he doesn't believe in that shit no more than he believes in God.
“Okay. What do I do?” Harry asks the question before he can stop himself.
He hates that he even has to ask. He knows the basis of it. He has watched
porn and has read far too man Drarry fanfics to not know the basics, but this
is different. This is real. This isn't some story where they have magical lube,
or a porn with impossible standards. This is Louis straddling his lap,
begging for Harry’s fingers to be inside of him. This is big, and Harry is
petrified of fucking it up. He just wants to make it good for Louis. It’s
Louis’ birthday, afterall.
“Open the packet and put some on your index finger. Don’t use it all, you
will need a bit more for later,” Louis instructs, helping Harry open the foil
packet since his hands are shaking far too much to do it alone. When he
hands the now open lube to Harry, he squeezes a bit on his finger, sitting the
rest down on the arm of the sofa. He reaches one long arm around Louis
while Louis presses his firm chest against Harry’s giving him better access.
Harry holds his breath as he finds Louis’ tight hole with one slick finger.
“Okay, now spread it around a bit. Just like that, love. You’re doing so
well,” Louis encourages, gripping Harry’s arm when Harry applies a bit of
pressure. Harry freezes thinking that he has already hurt Louis with his
ridiculously oversized and stupid fucking hands, but Louis looks to be in
pleasure. This fact makes Harry relax a bit.
“Fuck, Harry. Please. God please, just press it in a little.” Harry swallows
what feels like sandpaper in his throat as he carefully pushes past Louis’
tight ring of muscle, the tip of his finger breaching it with little effort.
“Feels so good,” Louis murmurs against Harry’s shoulder, kissing the skin
already below his lips. Louis whimpers when Harry removes his fingers to
reach for the packet of lube.
“It’s alright, baby, just wanna get more lube. Get you nice and wet,” Harry
explains, kissing his nose. He has no idea where that statement came from,
but it seems to turn Louis on even more because he whines and ruts against
Harry’s lap trying to get friction on his cock. Harry uses his lube free hand
to still Louis’ hips. He does it because he doesn't want him or Louis to
come yet. Harry puts more lube on his finger, using his ring and index
fingers to spread it over the digit. He wraps his arm around Louis again,
quickly finding his hole this time. It is still wet from moments ago, so he is
able to slide the tip in easily. Holy shit. Louis is already so tight and hot
around him. Harry’s cock throbs just imagining what the tight heat would
feel like around it.
_________
“Fuck. Harry. Yes. Just like that. More,” Louis moans when he feels Harry’s
wet index finger breach his hole again, the sensation sending a spark of
pleasure straight to Louis’ balls. It has been a while since Louis has had
anything inside of him. He usually doesn’t bother when he masterbates, his
arms are too short, so it can make the angle a bit awkward, plus it would be
much harder to explain if his parents catch him. The intrusion stings a bit,
burning from the stretch, but Louis is relishing in it. He fucking missed it.
Missed feeling full, and he has been dreaming about Harry’s Goddamned
hands for the better part of four months.
“More?” Harry asks, and Louis can hear the hesitance in his voice. Louis is
fucking proud of him though. First he opened up about his reasoning behind
hating Christmas and now this. Louis nods, and pushes his own hips down
on Harry’s finger. He hisses out a breath in both pain and pleasure as
Harry’s digit sinks deeper into him. Louis takes a moment to get used to the
stretch, allowing himself to sink even deeper.
“That’s it, love. Fuck me with your finger,” Louis begs, his voice high and
raspy with need. Finally. Finally Harry begins moving his finger in and out,
and Louis can’t help but meet the thrust, his eyes rolling back into his head
with pleasure. Harry’s finger is long and perfect inside of him, and Louis
needs more. Harry’s body looks almost golden in the light of the fire, his
hair looking darker somehow. Fuck, he may be the most beautiful thing
Louis has ever seen in his life.
“Fuck, Lou. You’re so tight,” Harry mumbles voice gravelly, as he trails

more hot kisses across Louis’ collarbones, licking and biting as he goes.
Louis has a suspicion that Harry may have a bit of an obsession with his
collarbones, but Louis has no room to talk. Louis has a similar obsession
with Harry’s hands it seems. Louis uses both hands to thread his fingers
through Harry’s hair, forcing his face up so Louis can capture his lips in a
heated kiss, their tongues battling for dominance immediately. Louis fists
Harry’s dark curls and moans deep when Harry crooks his finger and hits
his spot, sending a jolt of pleasure straight into Louis’ neglected dick.
“Fuck Harry. God. Right there. Fuck,” Louis moans in abandon, feeling it
when Harry repeats the motion, hitting his prostate dead on this time,
prompting Louis to actually yell out in pleasure. “Add another one.” Harry
removes his finger long enough to add more lube. He doesn't really need it,
but Louis doesn’t say anything, not wanting to embarrass him, plus it’s nice
being with someone who is sober enough to be concerned about this type of
thing. Harry then reaches back around, using his long arms to his
advantage. He slowly, ever so fucking slowly, pushes two fingers in. Louis
tries to relax, allowing his body to get used to the stretch, but Harry’s
fingers are fucking huge. It take a few agonizing moments before the
pleasure starts outweighing the pain. He knows it will be better when one of
them moves, so he begins shifting his own hips in a small circular motion,
using strong legs to control the pace.
“Holy shit,” Harry moans, biting Louis’ shoulder as Louis starts moving
faster, fucking himself on Harry’s thick fingers, moaning when he can feel
the cool surface of his rings barely touching his rim. He imagines it’s
Harry’s dick that is splitting him open instead of his fingers, which just
urges him on. Harry crooks his fingers again, and Louis cries out as he hits
his spot dead on. Fuck. Harry really is a natural at this, and it may end up
being the death of Louis.
“Fuck. Harry, you feel so good. Doing so good. God. Need you to touch
me.” Louis grips the back of the couch with two hands, using it for leverage
as he begins moving up and down on Harry’s hard fingers, their dicks
slapping together every time Louis sinks down. Harry seems to understand
what he is asking for because he takes his free hand and pushes it between
their sweaty bodies. He wraps his large hand around both of their dicks. He
doesn't need to do much, letting Louis’ momentum create most of the
friction as Louis keeps moving up then sinking back down, using strong
legs.
“Ah. Fuck. Harry. I’m so fucking close. Keep doing that,” Louis begs,
feeling out of his mind with pleasure now. Harry feels perfect under him,
his body hot and hard. Louis leans down to capture Harry’s lips in a kiss.
Harry chooses that moment to begin fucking Louis back, his fingers going
deeper with every thrust, making Louis scream into Harry’s waiting mouth.
Spark after spark of pleasure goes through Louis’ system. He can feel the
tell-tale sign of his orgasm approaching, the knot at the pit of his stomach
tighter than ever, his balls feeling as if they are about about explode from
the sheer force of it all.
“Come on, baby. Come with me. I’m close, too. Need you to come with me
though,” Harry growls out, pressing hard onto Louis spot, and Louis just
topples over the edge. He screams into Harry’s mouth as spurt after spurt of
his own come coats both of their stomachs and chest. He can feel it when
Harry releases soon after, their fluids mixing together not for the first time.
Louis collapses on top of Harry, smearing the come between them, but he
doesn’t care. He is warm and satisfied after the best birthday he has ever
had. He whimpers from the loss when Harry slowly removes his fingers,
wiping them down on the couch.
“Merry Christmas, Lou,” Harry says, kissing his temple after a few
moments of cuddling. Louis is confused until he looks at his watch to note
that it is in fact after midnight. He burst out into laughter when he sees the
smirk on Harry’s face in the dim light of the room. Louis hates him. Well
not really, because the feeling blooming in his chest is definitely not hate.
He decides to smack Harry’s arm instead, laughing again when Harry
cracks a smile, his dimples popping.
“Does that mean we can exchange presents?” Louis asks, grimacing as he

gets off Harry, deciding to just lay naked on the couch while Harry
disappears into the kitchen, probably to grab some wet paper towels. Harry
comes back a moment later with his chest now clean and a damp cloth in
his hand. He wipes their release off Louis’ chest then disappears again.
Louis takes that moment to get up, and put his shirt, underwear and pants
back on. He decides to sit on the floor in front of the old tree that looks like
it is falling apart. It has cheap silver tinsel hanging draped over each fake
branch, some of the ornaments are cracked or just simply broken, and the
lights aren’t turned on, leaving it eerily dark.
Harry is still completely naked when he walks back into the room, and
Louis can’t help but stare. He watches the way Harry’s long lean muscles
flex as he begins to put his clothing back on. Which is a fucking travesty.
Harry should always walk around naked if you ask Louis. The man is
beautiful in about one hundred and sixty three different ways. He kept his
jewelry on during the whole thing, like he always does. Now that Louis
thinks of it, he has never seen Harry without the bracelets unless he is
wearing a long sleeved shirt.
Louis put that to the back of his mind when Harry walks over to the
Christmas tree, bending down and plugging the lights in. The tree doesn’t
look much better lit up, the multicolored lights blinking on and off every
few seconds, making the fake polyvinyl material stand out that much more.
Harry then picks a large box up, leaving only four presents under the tree.
Louis thinks about the presents that are sitting under his tree at home right
now. Himself and each one of his siblings have at least a dozen gifts each,
thousands of dollars being spent on them this year. Thousands of dollars
being spent on them every year. Yet, Harry has to spend Christmas in a cold
house with only four presents, only one is probably his own. He spent many
Christmases like that from what Louis could gather from his story, and how
is that fair? What kind of God allows one family to have so much while
another to have so little?
He is abruptly pulled out of his dark thoughts when Harry sits opposite of
him, holding out the retrieved gift in two large hands. The present is
wrapped in red paper with silver designs, and silver ribbon tied in a large
bow on top of it. The tag reads ‘To: Lou From: Haz xx’. Louis can’t
imagine Harry sitting down and carefully wrapping his present, then
adorning it with a bow and and handwritten tag, but it seems that is exactly
what he had done. It’s perfect.
“I-- umm-- I hope you like it,” Harry tells him, handing the present to
Louis. Louis is surprised to find that it is heavy, very heavy. His curiosity is
killing him because he has no idea what could be so heavy yet in a smallish
box. He shakes it, not hearing a single sound come from it. “Open it, Lou,”
Harry laughs, the sound making Louis feel warm all over. Without further
hesitation, Louis rips into the paper, throwing it to the floor to reveal his
present.
“You bought me the Harry Potter books!?!” Louis exclaims, holding them
in his hands. They are all in one box, the spines facing towards him. He
uses one finger to trace over the lettering, not quite believing they are his.
He knows the set is expensive, which makes it that much more precious
since Harry probably had spent his own hard earned money on him. He has
been thinking about them a lot since he saw Harry reading one after his
accident. Harry’s words, as always, echoing in his head for the rest of the
day, making more sense than he wanted to admit. He had seen the trailers
for the movies on television, and they always seemed so magical. He never
really understood why he was forbidden from reading or watching them; he
just accepted it.
“I know you said your parents wouldn’t allow you to read them, but that
just doesn’t sit right with me. These books were my only friend through
some really difficult times, and-- well I think you should read them. You
would probably enjoy them, and you will find that there is nothing evil or
bad about them,” Harry rambles, talking faster because he is clearly
nervous. Louis wonders what kind of hard times they helped Harry through,
but doesn’t ask, knowing that Harry has shared more tonight than he ever
has before.
“Yeah. Of course, I’ll read them. I’ve always kind of wanted to; I just
accepted that I wasn’t allowed. Can we-- umm-- keep them here at your
house though? If Mark finds them, he will burn them, and I-- I don’t want
that at all. I want to keep them forever, so can I store them here? I’ll read
them at night when I’m supposed be asleep or something. When I’m done
with the first, you can bring the the next with you to school,” Louis plans,
smiling with how brilliant it is. His parents make him go to bed at 10pm
anyways because they think he is a fucking toddler. He could probably use
the brightness provided from his clock as a sort of flashlight to read for a
few hours before he actually goes to sleep. He could also read like Harry
does during class.
“Yeah. I’d be glad to hide them here for you,” Harry tells him, and Louis
jumps in his arms, hugging him tightly.
“Your turn,” Louis exclaims releasing him. He stands up to retrieve the

large box that Harry’s present is wrapped in. He didn’t do a great job of
wrapping it, the green paper not lining up, and tape in random places. He at
least tried though, with Willow’s help. He hands it to Harry and returns to
his spot, sitting with his legs crossed in front of him as he waits patiently
for Harry to open it. Harry just stares at it for a few minutes, using long
fingers to trace the lettering on the wrapping paper as if he can’t believe
someone got a present for him.
Louis feels like he is about to jump out of his skin with excitement at any
moment, just wanting Harry to open his present already to see what’s
inside. Harry, of course, takes his sweet ass time turning it over and running
his fingers under the seam to pop the tape instead of just ripping into the
paper. Louis kind of wants to strangle him then rip into the present himself,
but refrains knowing that Harry probably doesn’t get many presents. That
thought sends a pang of guilt through his chest, making his breath hitch for
the shortest second before returning to normal when he realizes Harry has
finally gotten down to the plain white box inside.
“Go ahead, open it,” Louis encourages with a smile when Harry looks up at
him with wide eyes. Harry carefully pulls the lid off the box, his full lips
opening into a small ‘o’ when he reveals what is inside.
“Louis. You can’t be serious,” Harry says, running his fingers over the
strings along the neck.
“I am very serious.”
“You got me a fucking guitar. Not just a guitar, but the guitar I have been
saving up for at the shop. ” Harry voice cracks with the words as he
carefully reaches into the box, wrapping one large hand around the neck
and pulling it out. The instrument is a simple maple wood stained with a
dark, shiny, mahogany finish. He pushes the box out of his lap in favor of
laying the guitar on it, picking at some of the strings randomly with black
painted nails. He looks so good with a guitar in his hands; Louis almost
swoons. He kind of wants to fan himself. The fire is making the room
hotter, that has to be it.
“Yeah. I asked Willow and Mac to tell me which one you liked the most.
They both said you had been saving up for this one, so I kind of bought it
with the money my mom gave me to buy Willow a gift with. Don’t worry,
Will is aware,” Louis chuckles with that, suddenly feeling nervous. “Mac
tuned it for me and gave me a great deal. Employee’s discount since you
were going to buy it anyways, and he knew I wanted to buy it for you for
Christmas.” Louis knows he is rambling, but he can’t help it.
“But how did you know I wanted to learn to play?” Harry asks, running his
hands over every available surface of the stringed instrument in awe. Louis
loves that look on his face. It makes his heart beat funny and his stomach do
somersaults.
“Umm-- Niall actually gave me the idea. I asked him because I had no idea
what to buy you. He said that you liked music, which I already knew, but
then he said that you had always wanted to learn to play the guitar. That’s
what lead me to Willow and Mac,” Louis explains, feeling proud of his
buying something that Harry so obviously loves.
“Thank you, Lou. I love it,” Harry says, green eyes shining in the light of
the Christmas tree as he looks up, dimples popping. Louis feels like his
heart melts. He leans in, kissing Harry chastely because he can’t help it. He
just feels like he has to in the same way that he has to breathe or drink
water. As if his very life depends on him kissing Harry in that moment.
“Merry Christmas, love.”
“Happy Yule, Lou.”

Chapter End Notes
My Soul
Chapter Summary
Harry has dinner with Robin and Anne. A few days later, Louis comes
over to spend the new year with Harry.
Chapter Notes
I have been waiting so long to share this chap with you. It is one of my
favorites! I hope this is a good Valentine's Day present to you since I
did not actually give you a v-day fic. I HIGHLY recommend listening
to the songs as they are mentioned in the chapter. It really helps the
experience. The songs can be found on the playlist below!
Are you ready for my soul?
What if I'm broken from the start?
And what if I never heal?
Are you ready for my soul?
What if I open up my heart?
And somehow we stumble into something real?- Thrice
“He’s coming for dinner, Lou,” Harry says into the speaker of his phone as
he plops down on his bed. He is nervous about the upcoming dinner, so he
decided to call Louis to calm his nerves. He tries not to think about the fact
that Louis is the first person that he thought to call, not Niall or even just
not talking to anyone about it all. He thinks he would have opted to keep it
in, before. Before Louis. Before he had someone he is really starting to trust
to confide in. Harry will even admit that it is nice, having someone to talk
to for moments like these.
Tell me again why this is a bad thing, Haz.
“I don’t know. I just-- like I know it’s not going to last, so what’s the point
in wasting time and energy?” Harry asks, moving his sock clad feet with the
words, trying to warm them up a bit. His room is so cold even with the
space heater because he can’t leave the damn thing on when nobody is
home or else he will catch the house on fire.
You don’t know that, Hazza. I thought you were the logical one in this
relationship.
Harry can hear the smile in Louis’ voice, and he may or may not melt at the
word ‘relationship’. They haven't defined anything, but it still feels like
more than a friendship that’s for damn sure. Harry bites lip then pulls it
between his thumb and index finger as he thinks about Louis’ words. “How
did you feel when your mom started dating Mark?” Harry asks, finally. It is
the question that has been on his mind.
I was young when he came into the picture. I don’t remember much, but I do
remember being happy that my mom was happy. Does he make your mom
happy?
“Yeah. I guess. I mean she has been smiling more. She has had boyfriends
since her divorce, but none of them seemed this serious, Lou. Like she has
never asked them to dinner. Fucking dinner, and wanted me to actually be
there,” Harry admits. It’s easier to admit it through the receiver of a phone
than in person.
So you are actually admitting she has a boyfriend, then?
Harry knows Louis is smirking on the other end of the phone, and Harry
wishes he was there to kiss the look off his ridiculously pretty face. He is
not though, so he is going to have to settle for just talking with his words.
“Yes. She has a boyfriend. His name is Robin, and they seem pretty serious.
Happy?” Harry rolls his eyes, but he is smiling. He can’t help it. Louis
makes him smile.
Yes. I am actually. The first step is admitting it.
“Jesus, Lou. I am banning you from speaking to Niall ever again. You are
starting to sound like him. Pretty soon you are going to start using words
like ‘tarnation’ and phrases like ‘down yonder’ as a form of measurement,”
Harry jokes, laughing at the outraged sound Louis makes on the other side
of the line.
I don’t even know what half of that means, thank you very much. Now back
to the topic you are obviously trying to change. Why is this such a big deal
to you, Hazza?
“Fuck. Fine, Lou. Robin-- he likes me. Like he tries to talk to me and get to
know me, and it’s fucking weird. None of her other fuck offs have even so
much as learned my name, but Robin always asks me about my grades and
my homework and shit. I mean, he hasn’t gotten a whole lot of chances to
ask like a lot of questions, but he asks more questions when he actually sees
me than she does,” Harry rambles, finally telling Louis what is on his mind.
It is nice to get it off his chest. He has actually been wanting to talk to Louis
about it for sometime, he just never knew how.
What’s wrong with that, though? To me, it just seems like he really likes
your mom and wants to get to know you too because you are obviously an
important person in your mom’s life…
“But I’m not,” Harry says, abruptly cutting off Louis’ sentence. “I don’t
think I am all that important to her. She doesn’t even really like to be in the
same room as me, so why would he think I’m important? I am almost sure
that is why none of the other guys have tried to get to know me. They
probably could tell I wasn’t a priority to her.” It’s true. He wasn’t even a
priority to his own father, so he just couldn’t understand why Robin seemed
so interested in getting to know him.
I don’t think that’s true, Haz. I think you are important to her, but maybe she
just doesn't understand you. Maybe you should give this Robin guy a
chance. If he makes your mom happy, then what’s the harm, as long as he
doesn’t like, abuse you or anything.
His voice sounds sad, and Harry isn’t sure if it is because Harry thinks he is
unimportant to his mom or if it has more to do with the abuse statement.
Harry wonders, not for the first time, if Louis and Mark’s relationship is as
good as Louis wants him to believe. Louis has never said it was amazing or
anything, but he has said, on more than one occasion, that he is grateful for
Mark and everything he has done for him and his mom. Harry just gets the
feeling there is more to it than that. He doesn’t think Mark physically
abuses Louis. He has seen every inch of his body and the only marks there
are from Harry himself, but there are other types of abuse, right? Surely the
way that Mark yells and screams at Louis, and the names he calls him is
abuse. Louis hasn’t really spoke a whole lot about it, but he has mentioned
Mark and his tendency to belittle Louis for his way of speaking or acting.
“Yeah. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should give him a chance.”
That’s my boy.
Just like that, Louis’ smile is back in his voice, and Harry’s own face is
splitting into a wide grin. “Thanks for talking to me about it, Lou. I have to
go. He should be here any minute,” Harry tells him with a sigh as he
glances at the clock. He can smell the food that his mom is cooking from
downstairs. Harry can’t remember the last time she actually cooked, so she
must want to make a good impression. Harry is kind of bitter about it
though. Of course, she would cook for this random dude she has been
seeing, but she can’t be bothered to cook for her own son.
Alright, love. I’ll talk to you later.
“I’ll text you if I’m miserable. Bye,” Harry says, then taps the call end
button feeling so much better now that he talked to Louis about it. He has
just been doing better in general since Louis came into his life, save for
their one hiccup. He hasn’t felt the need to cut in weeks, not since
Thanksgiving and that was more because he was nervous and less because
he was sad. Even though he hadn’t done it in years before Louis, he still
sometimes wanted to. Like tonight, being thrown into something new like a
dinner with his mom’s boyfriend, would have made him want to cut.
Instead of feeling the need, he called Louis, and that fact does not escape
him. He gets off the bed when he hears the doorbell ring, taking a deep
breath before walking down stairs.
“Hey Harry,” Robin greets with a broad smile as soon as Harry steps into
the living room. Harry smiles, well it may be more of a grimace, and nods
in his direction, not really knowing how to act. He feels out of his element
with this, and he kind of hates it. He wishes Louis could have come. Louis
always makes him feel more at ease.
“Hey,” Harry returns, watching as his mom takes Robin’s coat, laying it
over the back of the chair in the corner. He isn’t sure what else to say.
Should he ask how he is? Maybe if it’s cold outside? Fuck. Harry hasn’t
seen or even so much as uttered a word to his own father for almost four
years. Robin isn’t his father, obviously, but it kind of feels like that same
thing.
“How are you doing?” Robin asks, clapping a hand on Harry’s shoulder and
squeezing warmly. This is so weird. Even when his dad was around, he
wasn’t warm, ever. He wasn’t a bad father, but he also wasn’t the type that
would talk to Harry about his feelings and shit. He worked a lot, seeming to
never want to be around them even when he was still at home. After he left,
his mom took his place in the working category, refusing to take any money
from the asshole. Harry didn’t blame her. Harry didn’t want to see him, and
if she had taken child support from him, he would have been forced to. It
was the one good thing Anne has done for him since the whole debacle. It’s
his fault he left though, and Harry feels an enormous amount of guilt for
that. He pushes the dark thought from his mind, opting to answer Robin’s
question.
“I’m good.” Harry doesn’t mean to sound so short, he just doesn’t ever
know what to say when someone asks him that question. He is also still not
used to people asking him things like that. People other than Niall caring
about his well being is still fairly new to him. He hasn’t even decided if
Robin really cares about his well being, or if he is just trying to get into his
mom’s pants. It may be a cynical thought, but Harry has never claimed to
be an optimistic person. Time will tell, he supposes.
“I heard you talking to someone, who was it?” Anne asks, and her tone isn’t
accusatory at all, more curious. Harry turns to her so fast, he probably has
whiplash. His mouth is hanging open, gaping in shock. Other than when she
asked if he was selling drugs, she hasn’t asked a question about his life in so
long, he doesn't exactly know how to respond. The drugs question doesn't
really count though because that was more of an accusal.
“Umm-- My friend Louis,” Harry answers honestly because he is so taken

off guard, he doesn’t even think to lie.
“Oh, the nice boy we met at the concert, Anne. Remember? The one that
gave Harry his Santa hat, so he could be more festive.” Robin smiles at
Harry, nodding to Anne. Harry feels like he is in the twilight zone or some
shit. He is going to be in a permanent state of shock if Robin keeps this up,
keeps remembering little things that have happened with Harry. Anne nods
her head, as if she remembers, she might, but Harry doesn’t know.
“Oh yes. He was very nice. I’m so glad you’re making friends,” Anne says,
smiling at Harry brightly like she is actually happy about his budding
friendships. It is probably just an act though. An act around Robin. “Well
dinner is ready, so who’s hungry?” Harry and Robin both nod, then head
into the kitchen where a small table is sat, three plates of spaghetti already
served with garlic bread on the side. It smells good, and Harry’s stomach
rumbles in response. His mom always made the best fucking pasta when
she cooked. He almost cries for the simple fact that he missed it so much.
He better not get used to it though, it will probably change sooner rather
than later.
“This looks delicious.” Robin kisses Anne on the cheek with the statement.
She smiles her dimples popping and gives him a disgustingly fond look.
Harry makes a face as he watches Robin pull out her chair for her, then
takes the seat across from her, leaving Harry to sit at the head of the table.
“So Harry. I asked your Mom for this dinner, so I could get to know you a
bit better. Tell me a little about yourself,” Robin prompts, picking up his
fork and beginning to twirl some noodles on it. Harry watches the motion
because he needs something to do other than make eye contact with either
Robin or his mom.
“Umm-- I’m really not that interesting,” Harry responds because it’s the
truth. He wouldn’t even know what to say. He remembers telling Louis the
exact same thing when he had asked a similar question months ago. He still
stands by his original belief. He is weird and boring. Not interesting in the
slightest.
“I don’t think that’s true. What are some of your hobbies?” Robin asks,
smiling at him. Anne is also smiling and nodding along, as if she is
interested as well. Maybe if she spent more than three seconds in the same
room as him, she would know his hobbies.
“Oh, well. I like to write and read. Oh and umm-- I’ve been teaching myself
to play the guitar,” Harry responds, beginning to play with his food because
he needs something to do with his hands. Fuck. He wishes Louis was here.
Louis is so much better at talking to people. He has been teaching himself
to play since Christmas. It has only been a few days, but he has already
learned like three cords. That's improvement, right? He can’t wait to show
Louis when he comes over for New Years Eve in a few days.
“Guitar, eh? I used to play guitar back in the day. Haven’t picked it up in
years, but I’m sure I remember a few things if you’d like me to show you
sometime,” Robin offers, smiling at Harry. Harry is so taken aback by the
proposal, he can’t keep the look of shock from his face. Robin wants to do
something with him? He can’t be serious. This has to be another tactic to
get to his mom. It has to be. Harry wants to tell him that he is barking up
the wrong tree because his mom gives zero fucks about him but refrains.
“Yeah. Um-- I’d like that. I’ve been using YouTube mostly,” Harry tells
him, and it’s been hard because he has to use his phone since he doesn’t
have a laptop. It would be nice to have a few pointers if he’s honest, he just
doesn’t know why Robin is offering. Even when his dad was around, the
man never once offered to teach Harry to do anything. He never played
catch, or took him hunting, or anything other dad’s do. Harry didn’t care, it
is just odd to him that this practical stranger is offering to do something like
that.
“What kind of music do you wanna play?” Robin asks next, taking a bite of
his pasta while keeping eye contact with Harry. For his part, Harry looks
down, using some garlic bread to help twirl pasta on to the prongs of his
fork.
“Rock. I listen to mostly metal,” Harry tells him, waiting for the look of
disgust to cross his face. His mom scrunches her nose up and opens her
mouth to say something, but Robin beats her to it.
“Me, too. I saw Def Leppard live in concert 20 years ago. It was the best
concert I had ever been to.” Robin smiles, getting a far off look in his eyes
at the memory. Harry smiles, too, because that’s cool as shit. Harry has a
feeling that Mac and Robin would get along splendidly. Harry doesn't miss
it when Robin reaches across the table to hold Anne’s hand in his own.
“Harry, I didn’t know you still listened to that kind of music,” Anne pipes
in, face still resembling one of someone who has smelled something foul.
“You’ve never bothered to ask,” Harry responds with a shrug, his tone short
and pointed while he takes another bite of his food. Just like that, there is
tension in the room that is so tight, Harry doesn’t know how everyone is
still breathing.
“Harry that’s not fair,” Anne says finally, dropping her fork and fixing him
with a hard stare. Harry will not back down, though. Harry feels like his
blood is boiling because he is suddenly so angry with her. Not fair? How
dare she decide what isn’t fair. She hasn't been around enough to make that
decision. He can feel his body starting to shake because she has never
seemed to care what was fair before. She is trying to put on a fucking show
for her boyfriend and act like she gives a damn about him when she clearly
doesn’t. Harry isn’t going to play. If Robin wants into this dysfunctional
family of bullshit, he needs to know what the fuck he is getting into.
“What’s not fair, Mom?” Harry asks. His tone is accusatory with just a hint
of sarcasm laced throughout. Anne sputters, so Harry continues before she
can cut him off, “I personally think it’s not fair that you constantly leave me
here alone because you can’t stand being in the same room as me, and you
use work as an excuse. I also think it’s not fair that you are learning more
about me tonight because Robin here is asking me more questions than you
have in the past three years. And it’s really not fair that Gemma doesn’t
even want to come visit because the tension between us is so fucking thick,
that it makes her sick.” Harry’s heart is racing in his chest, not being able to
quite believe he said all of that. Robin looks completely shocked, but he
hasn’t made any move to run away as he should. Anne’s mouth is hanging
open, her eyes blinking rapidly as if she is attempting to blink back tears.
Harry finds some kind of sick satisfaction in that, and he knows it’s terrible.
At least she is showing some kind of emotion. Something more than the
cool indifference he has gotten from her for the past fuck knows how long.
“Harry-- I…” Her voice is shaky, and she isn’t making eye contact with him
anymore, instead looking down at her and Robin’s joined hands as she
squeezes it tightly. Harry cuts her off, not really being in the mood to hear
whatever lie she is about is spew.
“Forget it. Thank you for dinner, but I’ll be in my room. I’m suddenly not
very hungry.” He pushes his chair back quickly, the legs making a loud
scraping sound as they move across the linoleum floor. He glances at his
mom one final time watching as she bows her head. He almost feels sorry
for his words, but he believes he is justified in saying them. It needed to be
said. He couldn’t sit there and let her play the victim. Let her act like the
perfect fucking mother in front of her new boyfriend. He wouldn't. Harry
knows he isn’t perfect. He has never pretended to be. He is painfully aware
that their relationship is fucked up because of him, and he is even more
aware that the reason why his father left rests squarely on his shoulders.
He leaves the kitchen, taking the stairs two at a time, his footfalls sounding
thunderous on the old creaking wood before he is in his room, shutting the
door firmly behind him. He paces his room for a few minutes, debating
about leaving the house completely, still shaking from what happened down
stairs. He wants to cry. It is the most he has said to his mom since the day
he went grocery shopping with Louis. He takes a few deep breaths,
deciding to call Louis. Louis said he was going to be studying for the next
few hours, so he should be alone enough to talk to Harry. Harry sits down
on his bed, pulling the phone out of his pocket and hovers his finger over
the button when he hears a knock on the door. What the fuck? His mom has
never followed him upstairs. She hasn’t even been in his room since… the
incident. She won’t go near it, not even spare it a glance. He doesn’t blame
her. He has bad memories of it too, but he has to sleep here therefore he has
gotten over it.
“Come in,” he says, voice thick with emotion. He blinks back tears, feeling
his face heat up with the action. He has no idea why he told her she could
come in. Mostly wanting to see if she would actually come all the way in or
just hover around the door. The door slowly opens, and Harry’s mouth
drops in surprise. Instead of woman with long dark hair and features far too
similar to his own coming through the doorway, it is a man with a graying
beard and a kind face. Harry blinks at him, eyes suddenly dry out of sheer
astonishment and confusion. Is Harry fucking hallucinating? He hasn't
smoked weed in a few days, so he doesn’t think he has gotten a hold of
anything that was laced. He has to be hallucinating though, because his
mom’s random boyfriends don’t just come into his room after something
like that. Robin should be tucking tail and hauling ass out the door, not
going towards the obviously broken person.
“Hey. Can I talk to you for a minute?” Robin asks, his voice hesitant but his
eyes genuine. Harry just nods dumbly, expecting Robin to stand over him
and maybe even give him a lecture as to why he shouldn’t speak to his
mother like that, but instead Robin sits beside him on the bed. He puts his
elbows on his knees and laces his fingers together, turning his head to look
at Harry. He isn’t touching him, but Harry stiffens just the same. “I’m not
here to give you a lecture, Harry.”
“Then why are you here?” Harry asks, staring at the closet because it is a
far better alternative than looking at Robin. Harry doesn’t think he can
handle the look of disappointment in another person’s eyes even if it’s a
virtual stranger. He just can’t fucking do it. He is so tired of seeing it in his
mom’s eyes. In Gemma’s eyes. Everything used to be so good, not great,
but good, and now everything is broken. Everything is broken because of
him, and he hates himself for it.
“I just wanted to tell you that if you think what happened downstairs is
going to scare me off, you have another thing coming. I really care for your
mom, Harry, but I am not going to sit here and make excuses for her. She
told me things between you two are strained. I know that everything isn’t
going to be fixed overnight or maybe ever, but I want things to be better. I
know I am nothing to you, not yet, but I want to be. I am not trying to
replace your dad, Harry, nor am I trying to force you to have a relationship
with me or your mom, but I want you to at least consider it.” Harry isn’t
looking at him during his speech, but he can hear the honesty in his voice.
Harry wants to believe him. He wants to like him, even. He really fucking
does, but it’s so fucking hard given everything he has been through. His dad
doesn't want anything to do with him, and he is supposed to believe this
random man does? It’s hard to wrap his head around, but he finds himself
nodding.
“Okay. I’ll think about it,” Harry responds, voice thick with emotion, finally
looking at Robin. Robin smiles at him, then pats his knee twice before he
leaves the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. Harry needs to talk
to Louis. He needs to tell him everything that happened, get his opinion on
everything. He also just wants to hear the sound of his voice. Louis has a
way of making him calm. He may even be able to sleep tonight if he hears
it. He grabs his discarded phone, tapping Louis’ name. It rings exactly two
times before Louis’ raspy voice answers, and Harry feels the tension
leaving his body just like that.
__________
“I’m sorry you don’t feel up to coming tonight, Lou,” Jay says, her eyes
kind. “I brought you some pain meds though. Stay off that foot. Let me see
if it’s swelling.” She walks over to Louis who is currently laying on his bed.
“Yeah. I’m bummed, too, but I would have no fun being on my feet at the
church for the next few hours. Stupid cold weather making the sprain flair
up,” he lies, putting a sadness in his voice like he is just so fucking upset
that he is missing the church’s boring New Year’s Eve celebration. He
doesn’t even know if an ankle sprain flaring up due to weather is a thing,
but his mom seems to believe him therefore he isn’t going to question it.
“It does look kind of swollen, so you best stay off it.” His mom picks up his
ankle examining it before laying it gently back down on the bed. It’s not
swollen at all, but if she wants to believe that then it’s fine by him. “Will
you be okay here alone?”
“Mom, I’m nineteen now. I think I’ll be fine. Mark is even fine leaving me
alone, plus the girls deserve to have some fun, and so do you all. I’m
probably just gonna take these pain meds and go to bed. New Year’s isn’t
that special anyways,” Louis reasons, even though that is totally not what
he is planning to do. New Year’s is special, and he is planning to spend it
with Harry. He just needs his mom and the rest of his family to leave
already, so that he can sneak out. He has been feeling antsy over it all damn
day. He feels like he has looked at the clock at least three hundred and
seventy two thousand four hundred and six times in the past five hours
alone, just waiting for his family to leave, so he can do the same.
He started acting like his ankle was bothering him around noon, and it has
progressively gotten ‘worse’ since then. He even went as far to limp around
the kitchen to get a snack. When is mom suggested he stay home, he
insisted on going just to make it that much more believable. Louis has said
it before, and will continue to say it, he deserves a fucking Oscar. At least a
goddamned nomination for his performance in the featured film titled The
Passion of the Sodomite; it will be a tale about a boy who may or may not
be falling for another boy and lies to his parents constantly to see said boy.
It will break box office records and be labeled as ‘ahead of its time’ or some
shit by some sort of pompas magazine. Louis just knows it.
“Okay, Lou. We are going to head out. I hope your ankle feels a bit better.
We will be home late, so we will see you in the morning,” she tells him,
kissing him on the forehead.
“Thanks, Mom. See you all in the morning. Have fun.” He watches as she
exits the room, turning off the light as she does so. He holds his breath,
listening for her and the rest of his family to leave the house. He gives it
another ten excruciating minutes before he jumps out of bed, fully dressed,
and makes his way out of the house, texting Harry as he walks. He pulls his
hood over his head, trying to mask his appearance in case anyone happens
to see him and takes the back way to Harry’s house, not wanting to risk
anything. If he gets caught, he could kiss any more nights like this with
Harry goodbye, and he simply isn’t prepared for that kind of sad existence.
Before he knows it, he is knocking on Harry’s door listening for the

footfalls signalling he is about to answer. Louis is freezing his ass off, but it
is completely worth it when Harry opens the door with a huge smile,
dimples popping. Holy fucking shit. Louis doesn't know if he will ever get
used to seeing Harry smiling so much, and he is perfectly okay with this.
He will gladly have a heart attack every single time Harry’s dimples show if
it means Harry continues to show them. Louis feels like he hasn’t seen
Harry in ages when in reality it has only been like a week, but that doesn’t
stop him from launching himself into Harry’s arms, wrapping his own
around Harry’s neck. Harry squeezes him tight, picking him up a bit in the
process as Louis takes a moment to breathe in his scent. Fuck. Louis missed
him so much. They went from seeing each other every single weekday at
school to only seeing one another once over the course of a week. Louis
hates it.
“I missed you, too,” Harry mumbles into his hair, kissing his forehead, and
Louis feels like he may faint. They have talked on the phone every single
day since their break began, but that doesn’t make up for the fact that they
were used to seeing each other five days a week. Harry releases him after a
few more minutes, then pulls him inside out of the cold. Louis notices that
the room is warmer this time. Harry must have started a fire early on,
because it’s nice and warm, a welcome change from the bitter cold outside.
Louis takes off his coat quickly, draping it over the back of the couch when
they enter the living room.
“So umm--” Harry starts, looking down at his pigeon toed feet and kicking
the off white carpet. Louis isn’t sure if it is off white or if it is just so stained
and gross from years of neglect that it just looks off white. Harry is clearly
nervous, and Louis can’t help smiling because it’s so damn endearing it
hurts Louis’ chest. Louis just wants to squeeze him until his eyes pop out of
his skull because he is so fucking cute, but he could never do that. He
would miss his curly haired boy far too much.
“Harry, please don’t be afraid to say what you are thinking with me,” Louis
says, giving Harry an encouraging smile. He means it too. He never wants
Harry to be afraid to be himself with him. He always wants to hear Harry’s
thoughts because Harry’s brain is fucking fascinating. He is brilliant really.
The way his brain works is so strange and amazing; Louis just wants to
understand it. Harry is incredibly logical and approaches everything in his
life with that, never taking emotions into account. Louis has never met
anyone quite like him, and he just loves that about him. Harry doesn’t even
realize how smart he actually is; doesn’t even realize when he is being
fucking brilliant.
“I was thinking that maybe we could hang out in my room. Maybe listen to
music and stuff then come back down here to watch the ball drop since I
don’t have, like, umm-- a TV in my room or anything. If you wanted to stay
down here that’s cool, too. My room isn’t great or anything. It’s kind of
cold, even though I’ve had the space heater on since I’ve been home. It
probably smells weird too, like the rest of the house, so yeah, we can stay
down here,” Harry rambles, and Louis has to stop him right there. He gets
up on his tip toes and kisses him, stopping more self deprecating words
from being released. He hates how insecure Harry is about everything,
including where he lives. Harry can’t help where he lives or how he grew
up. He has no control over that, and it would be unfair to judge him on it.
“I’d love to go up to your room. Maybe you can finally introduce me to

some of your favorite bands.” Louis smiles up at him, dropping back down
to his heels.
“You’re not gonna like it,” Harry warns, not making eye contact with Louis.
“I’ve listened to it before with you when we went grocery shopping, and I
kind of liked it. Better than the shit my parents will let me listen to. If it
doesn't fall into the category of country, gospel and bluegrass, it has to be
better than that,” Louis reasons, shrugging his shoulders. He hates that type
of music so fucking much, but they have access to his Spotify account
therefore they can see if he tries to listen to anything else. Most days, he
just doesn't listen to music. The music they played at football practice was
pretty good, though Louis had no idea what half of it was.
“Eww.” Harry makes a face, shaking his head at the mention of gospel.
Louis can’t say he blames him, but laughs because the look of disgust on
Harry’s face is so fucking cute. Harry turns, going up the stairs, and Louis
follows, enjoying the view of his ass as he walks them two at the at time.
The way his long legs flex in his skinny jeans is down right sinful. Louis
really should appreciate his ass more. It is a nice ass. A great ass even.
“Were you practicing before I got here?” Louis asks, seeing Harry’s guitar
laying on his bed as soon as he walks into the room. He takes a moment to
look around the room, noting that it is very small. Just enough space for a
twin sized bed, a dresser, and a very small closet. No desk or computer that
Louis can see. The walls are an off white with no decoration, not even
posters of any kind. Harry probably can’t afford them, though. The carpet is
just as stained as the one in the living room, maybe more so. It smells musty
and is kind of cold, the small space heater sitting in front of the closet,
barely warming it up. Louis doesn’t comment on any of these things,
instead deciding to try to focus on the positives.
“Oh yeah,” Harry says, cheeks getting pink with the admission as he looks
down at his toes, seeming to find the brown stain on the floor very
fascinating. One large ringed hand comes up to rub the back of his neck, his
too small shirt riding up exposing a sliver of pale skin. Louis licks his lips,
suddenly wanting desperately to lick something else. It suddenly dawns on
him that this is the first time he has been in Harry’s room. Louis wonders
how many others have been up here. Probably not many. If Louis had to
guess, he would say just Niall. He feels privileged in some way, getting a
peek into this part of Harry’s life. A part he seems to want to keep hidden
from the outside world. Maybe Harry is starting to trust him. He didn’t
think Harry would tell him all of his secrets overnight, but small steps in a
positive direction are better than no steps at all.
“Show me.” Harry starts shaking his head before the second word even
leaves Louis’ lips, and he can’t have that. So Louis pushes out his bottom
lip in a pout, looking up at Harry through his eyelashes, knowing Harry
won’t agree without a little convincing. Harry looks like he is considering
the request now at least, so that’s good. After a few moments of Louis
keeping his pout, Harry finally caves. “Pwease Hazzy,” Louis begs, using
his sister’s approach. He may not be as cute as them, but it seemed to work
just fine on Harry.
“That isn’t going to work,” Harry says, with a laugh that dies down. He
looks like he is considering it which is exactly what Louis wants.
“Works for my sisters, and I’m just as cute,” Louis replies, shrugging and
continuing his pout, looking up at Harry through his eyelashes again.
“Fine,” he responds, but Louis can tell he is attempting to suppress his

smile. Louis, however, lets his face break out into one of his own because
he got his way. He also gets to see Harry play the guitar which is something
he has been dreaming about since he purchased it for him at the beginning
of the month. “But I only know like three cords and no songs, so it’s not
going to be that impressive.”
“More than I can do,” Louis says, smiling wider when Harry takes the
guitar in his hand, sitting down on the bed with his legs crossed placing it in
his lap. Louis sits down opposite him, watching as his large hands find their
place on the strings, pressing into them. His other hand holding a pick that
looks too small in his long fingers as it comes up to strum. It is all kind of
mesmerizing, and Louis’ dick is stiffening in his jeans. He didn’t know
watching Harry play three cords would be so fucking pornagraphic, but
here he is, desperately needing to adjust himself before Harry notices the
bulge he is sporting.
“I can’t believe you have learned three cords already. You’ve only had it for
a week,” Louis says, clapping when Harry finishes his demonstration.
Harry’s whole face turns red with the compliment, the pink tint working it’s
way down to his chest, dipping below the collar of his shirt. Louis is so
proud of him, and he really can’t wait until Harry learns a whole song. He
wants to listen to Harry’s deep voice as he sings along with the music he is
making using the instrument Louis had bought him. He knows Harry will
be embarrassed, but he thinks he will do it. Fuck. He hopes he will. Harry
has real talent when it comes to singing, and the boy is oblivious to it. He is
oblivious to a lot of things about himself, it seems, like how incredibly sexy
he is.
__________
“So what’s your new year's resolution, Haz?” Louis asks, his breath
ghosting over Harry’s jawline when he looks up with the question. They
have spent the last few hours listening to music while talking about
anything and everything. Harry shared more with Louis about his
conversation with Robin, allowing Louis to ask him various questions
regarding his decision while Louis traced the print on his shirt, since they
had somehow ended up laying on Harry’s bed, with Louis resting half of his
body on top of Harry. It feels nice, if Harry is being honest. He loves having
Louis in his room.
“I don’t know,” Harry answers after a few moments of searching his brain
and not coming up with anything substantial. He has never made a new
year’s resolution, mostly because he was never looking forward to another
year. He didn’t see the point, but now, he may have to think about it. Now
that he has a lovely boy in his arms who wants him to tell him all of his
secrets. Now that he is thinking about confiding some of them to said boy.
“Me neither, but I’m gonna think about it,” Louis responds, crooking his
head up to give Harry a smile.
“I love this song,” Harry says, changing the subject when Iris by the Goo
Goo Dolls starts playing through his cheap speaker that is connected to his
phone. He starts humming along, running a hand down Louis’ arm,
watching chill bumps pop up in the low light of the room.
“Let’s dance.” Louis has a sparkle in his eye as he sits up completely,

shaking Harry with excitement. Harry shakes his head, but allows Louis to
pull him up and off the bed. They move to the small clear area of the room,
Louis placing his arms around Harry’s neck, tangling his fingers in the curls
there. Harry, for his part, threads his arms around the small of Louis’ back,
enjoying the feeling of Louis’ smaller body pressed against his own. They
begin swaying to the beat of the song, Harry singing the words into Louis’
ear.
And I'd give up forever to touch you

'Cause I know that you feel me somehow
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be
And I don't want to go home right now
And all I can taste is this moment
And all I can breathe is your life
And sooner or later it's over
I just don't wanna miss you tonight
And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am
And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming
Or the moment of truth in your lies
When everything feels like the movies
Yeah you bleed just to know you're alive

Harry means what he sings, every single word as they move to the rhythm
of the song in his bedroom, hidden away from the outside world. Louis’
head is resting on his shoulder; Harry breathing in the smell that is Louis.
The smell of his happiness. After the last word is sang, Louis looks up at
him with shiny blue eyes, and he looks so beautiful at the moment, Harry
feels like his chest is being crushed under some God’s fist. Pulverized since
he just can’t handle it all. The moment. Louis looking like the only angel
Harry will ever acknowledge. The feeling in his chest that wants to burst
out and bathe the world.
Harry does the only thing he can do in that moment, the only thing his brain
is screaming at him to do other than say the words he can’t say. He bends
down and kisses Louis. The other boy responds immediately, pulling
himself up on his tiptoes to the deepen the kiss, moaning when Harry parts
his lips letting Louis’ seeking tongue gain entrance. They kiss for a few
more minutes, or could be hours for all Harry knows, as the song switches
to Only One by Yellowcard. Louis breaks the kiss, looking up into Harry’s
eyes, “What do you want, love?”
Harry swallows, thinking about the question. He knows what he wants, but
he is afraid to ask for it or to even let himself have it, so he decides to go
with something else that has been on his mind since Christmas. Something
that he has been considering a lot lately. Every single time he is around
Louis, his stomach does that weird flip thing, and he feels as though there
are dozens of butterflies that have made their home in there. Not butterflies.
Harry hates butterflies. Moths. They are like nocturnal butterflies, way
more goth. Yes. He feels like he has moths in his stomach every time he
shares moments like this with Louis, which just solidifies his decision.
“I-- I want to have sex with you, Lou,” Harry blurts out. It probably isn’t
the sexist way to say it, but it’s out there. He can feel his cheeks heating
with the admission, but he means it. He wants to have sex with Louis. He
wants to trust him in that way, and maybe trust him in every single other
way later. He isn’t ready to bare his soul to him yet, but he wants to give
him something.
“A-are you sure, Harry? You don’t have to. I don’t want you to feel
pressured…”
“Louis,” Harry cuts him off, placing a finger on his dark pink lips. “I have
been thinking about it a lot lately. To the point that there are lube and
condoms in the my drawer because I knew I wanted this. I want to be with
you in that way. I’m not gonna lie to you Louis and say that I am ready to
share all of my secrets, but I want to share this with you. I won’t regret it, I
promise. I--,” Harry pauses, stopping himself from saying the words on the
tip of his tongue. “I like you, a lot.”
“I like you, a lot, too, Harry. Okay, if you’re sure about this. Like I said, I
don’t want you to feel pressured because you think it’s what you have to do.
I would be perfectly content spending the rest of the night talking and
dancing and listening to music. I don’t want you to regret it like I regret the
way I lost my virginity,” Louis tells him, blue eyes honest. They have talked
about this before. The way Louis lost his virginity, but it still breaks Harry’s
heart that Louis regrets that. Harry knows that virginity isn’t some sacred
thing that should be kept under lock and key until marriage, but he does
think your first time should be with someone special. Someone you care
about, and Louis didn’t get that.
“I’m sure,” Harry says, putting a firmness to his voice, so that maybe Louis
will believe him. Louis drops to his knees, and Harry is so fucking
confused. He just told Louis he wants to have sex with him, not that he
wanted to receive a blow job. Louis’ nimble fingers work to unbutton his
jeans, pulling them and his underwear down to the floor, Harry’s stiffening
cock springing free.
“What are you doing?” Harry asks, looking down at Louis, whose eyes are
transfixed on his cock, licking his lips as if it is the most delicious looking
thing he has ever seen. Harry swallows dryly, fully hard now, his head
spinning from the sudden rerouting of blood. He doesn't think he will last
long at this rate. He feels nervous all of the sudden for what is about to
happen. What they are about to do. What if he is terrible at it? What if he
only lasts five minutes and can’t get Louis off?
“I’m gonna suck you off first. Trust me, you’ll thank me,” Louis responds,
looking up at Harry with dark eyes, pupils dilated. Harry swallows and
nods, unsure of how he is going to get hard again if Louis gets him off
already, but he trusts him. Then without any kind of warning, Louis opens
his mouth and feeds Harry’s length into the wet heat, causing Harry to curse
out in both surprise and pleasure. He flattens his tongue and looks up at
Harry through his eyelashes. Harry briefly registers the song changes to
Push by Matchbox 20.
“Gods, Lou, that feels so fucking good,” Harry moans, concentrating on the
feeling of Louis’ tongue on his cock, the way he purposely swirls it around
the head as he pulls off before sinking back down to repeat the process.
Harry’s hands come up to hold onto Louis’ hair, not pulling or guiding, just
resting there. If he concentrates on these feelings, he doesn’t give his brain
time to panic over what they plan to do after. He doesn’t want to overthink
this, he just wants to enjoy the moment. He is still solid in his decision; he
is just so fucking worried that he isn't good enough for Louis. That he isn’t
experienced enough, and he will let the other boy down. He never wants to
let Louis down.
“Fuck,” Harry groans because he will never get used to the look of Louis on
his knees before him with his cock shoved into his mouth, moaning around
it. It should be illegal, but holy shitting hell, Harry would just break the law.
Some rules are just made to be broken, especially if they are stupid rules.
Harry hisses out a breath when Louis’ small hand comes up to fondle his
balls, the act sending a spark of pleasure through his spine, making his
whole body tingle. No, he isn’t going to last long.
Louis then brings his other hand up, stroking what he can’t reach with his
mouth to the same rhythm, a wet slapping sound filling the room, making
Harry’s eyes roll back into this head with need. “Ah. Fuck. Shit. Louis.
Fuck,” Harry curses when Louis looks up through his eye lashes again,
maintaining eye contact, and Harry is suddenly hit by the memory that has
been seared into his brain since it happened. Louis’ beautiful face simply
covered in Harry’s own come. The way a ribbon shot across the bridge of
his noses, tracing a similar line as his freckles. When it hit his eyelashes,
gluing them for a moment to his ridiculously high cheekbones. When some
landed on his lips then he got to watch Louis lick it off. Holy fuck. Harry
would never ever forget that moment as long as he lived.
“I’m gonna come,” Harry warns, three minutes later. When Louis’ hand
doesn't stop playing with his balls, and when his mouth goes even deeper,
Harry trips over the edge into oblivion. His entire body tenses with his
releases as he fills Louis’ mouth up with his own come. Louis swallows
around it, making Harry growl out with one more spurt. Holy fucking shit.
Before he even has time to come down from his high, Louis is on him,
mouth fused with his, shoving his tongue through Harry’s lips. Harry can
taste himself on Louis tongue, and somehow his cock miraculously
twitches. Okay, maybe he will be able to get hard again.
Louis lifts up his arm in a silent gesture for Harry to take off his shirt. With
shaking fingers, Harry does so. It’s certainly not the first time he has seen
Louis naked, but this time feels like there is a purpose. Louis pulls off
Harry’s shirt next, the cool air hitting his overheated skin, making all four
of his nipples hard. Even though the bedroom is cold, he feels like he is on
fire, every touch of Louis’ hands making it burn that much hotter, starting a
new flame, feeding off the others until there is nothing left of Harry but ash
and smoke.
Harry trails his hands down Louis’ torso, kissing and sucking his lips while
doing so, until his fingers reach the top of Louis’ jeans. He traces them
using a blunt finger nail, finally coming to his button, unfastening it after a
few shaky attempts. If Louis notices, he doesn’t let on since he is
preoccupied peppering kisses along Harry’s collarbones and chest,
anywhere he can reach really, making Harry’s skin reignite. Harry then
pushes Louis’ jeans down his shapely ass stopping at his thighs, then Louis
pushes them down the rest of way, stepping out of both items easily. Harry
hisses in a breath when Louis’ hard cock grazes his skin, his own starting to
stir once again.
“Haz, it’s okay if this ends here. I want you to know that. I want you to be
sure,” Louis says, his voice high and raspy, making Harry’s cock twitch
once again. The honesty in his blue eyes hurts Harry’s chest, and, not for
the first time, he is so thankful for finding someone so caring to share his
first time with. The fact that Louis is asking, once again, not just taking
advantage of Harry speaks volumes and only serves to solidify his decision.
“I’m sure. Just-- show me? Okay? I just want it to be good for you, and I
don’t want to hurt you, Lou,” Harry replies, voice cracking with the mere
thought of hurting the boy standing in front of him. The person he has come
to care so much for.
“Haz, it will be great because it’s with you. I promise.” Louis then takes
both of Harry’s hands in his and pulls him to the bed, laying down himself
first then pulling Harry on top of him. Louis’ naked body feels warm and
firm under Harry. It’s perfect really, being in the cradle of Louis’ legs,
feeling his hard cock press against his stomach, but Harry is so nervous it is
difficult to concentrate on that. He feels like he may vomit at any second,
the moths in his stomach replaced by knots that are threatening to kill him.
His whole body is shaking with nerves, his breaths coming out quick and
sharp. So much so, that he is afraid he will go into a panic attack which
would just be disastrous. No one has ever seen him have a panic attack, and
he would prefer to keep it that way. Especially not one at the beginning of
his first time having sex.
“Baby. I need you to calm down and breathe. You’re fine. I promise. Trust
me.” Louis’ soft voice breaks Harry from his panicked haze, eyes finally
focusing on Louis’ face. Louis looks slightly worried, his small hand resting
on Harry’s chest just above his racing heart. Harry tries to match is
breathing pattern with Louis’ and focus on Louis’ eyes, the sound of his
breath and the song playing in the background Forsaken by Disturbed,
which helps ground him, calming him down a bit. “That’s it, baby.” Louis
then pulls Harry down and kisses him, starting off slow at first, working up
to something deeper and more passionate. Louis moans and grinds his hips
on Harry, and Harry is thoroughly fucking distracted.
“Where do I start?” Harry asks, breaking the kiss and looking down into
Louis’ eyes, searching them for something he isn’t sure he will find. Fuck.
He isn’t sure what he is looking for to be honest. Maybe to see the same
thing in Louis’ eyes that he is sure Louis would find in his own. He knows
there are a lot of words left unsaid between them. He knows he still needs
to trust Louis with other things, and Louis knows this, too. Louis probably
has his own secrets, not to mention the fact that Louis still thinks his own
sexuality is a choice and a sin. They still have a ways to go. They are both
still broken, but maybe together they can make each other whole. Pick up
the shattered pieces of each other and find a way to glue them back
together. Find strength in one another, and that is why he wants to continue
what he has with Louis. The belief that they can be what each other needs.
“You said you got condoms and lube right?” Louis asks, and when Harry
nods, he continues, “Get them, then begin opening me up just like the night
of my birthday. You did so well then, and this will be exactly the same.”
Right. Harry knows how to do that. He fingered Louis before. A week ago,
to be precise, so he can handle that. That’s not anything new. He pulls
himself off Louis enough to reach over to his nightstand, pulling out the
bottom drawer. He quickly grabs the lube and a condom, coming back up to
Louis giving him a timid smile. Louis cards his fingers through Harry’s
hair, letting his hand come to rest on his jawline. Harry nuzzles into the
touch, feeling slightly better.
Harry gets up on his haunches as Louis spreads his legs, revealing his tight
puckered hole. Harry has the sudden urge to taste it. He has seen it done in
porn and has already read about it, but maybe a different time. This is about
being inside Louis, not just his fingers. With trembling hands, Harry pops
the cap on the lube, squeezing some on this waiting fingers. He watches
Louis’ face as he traces around his hole for any signs of discomfort. Instead
he sees the opposite, his chin tilted towards the ceiling, cock twitching
against his hip. When Harry slowly breaches Louis’ hole, he cries out
pushing his hips down to get Harry further in. Louis is so hot and tight
around him, he has no idea how he will ever fit. He just knows that it will
feel so good if he manages to. With that thought in mind, his spent cock
starts fattening up again, Louis’ breathy moans egging him on.
“That’s it love, all the way,” Louis says, closing his eyes when Harry sinks
his finger down to the last knuckle. Harry wants to kiss him so badly it
hurts, so he does. He leans over Louis’ pliant body and kisses him until they
are both moaning and breathless. Somewhere during their heated kiss,
Harry began moving his finger in and out building up a steady rhythm just
like the first time.
“Ready for another?” Harry asks, when Louis starts biting his shoulder and
gripping his biceps so hard, his small fingers will probably leave bruises.
Harry has been careful not to rub too much on Louis’ hard shaft, not
wanting to create friction and make him come. Louis just nods, seemingly
unable to form coherent sentences. Harry slides his finger out of his tight
hole enough to add another, joining it with the first one. It is tight and hot,
and Harry thinks he may actually die. He quickly finds the same rhythm
fucking into him slow and steady, not wanting to rush anything at the
current moment. He is just enjoying Louis being under him, small and
warm, making the prettiest fucking noises Harry has ever heard.
“Scissor them,” Louis moans out, after a few more agonizing minutes.
Harry knows he has heard or read that term before, but for some reason
what it is is leaving him in the current moment. He freezes panicking for a
brief second, but decides to be logical with it. Louis said scissor, so what do
scissors do? A second later, the answer clicks in his mind, so he spreads his
fingers, continuing his tortuously slow movements. Louis curses, letting his
head fall back on the pillow, his eyes rolling back into his skull in pleasure.
His small hands tangle in Harry’s curls, pulling just enough to send another
spark of pleasure through Harry as he fists his free hand in the sheet,
needing something to keep him on the very earth. Harry is doing this to
him. A feeling of pride blooms in his chest. Holy shit. Harry is driving
Louis crazy with lust. Harry’s own cock is now becoming painfully hard,
hanging heavily between them. He is doing his best not to touch Louis’
with his own, knowing that it will all be over if he does.
“Feel good?” Harry asks in a moment of complete and utter insanity. He has
no idea why he thought it would be a good idea to talk. He probably sounds
like a complete and total nerd with the question. He can feel his cheeks and
chest reddening in embarrassment. Then Louis begins nodding his head
furiously, eyes wide and pleading, and maybe, just maybe Harry didn’t say
the wrong thing after all.
“Yes. Fuck, Harry. Your fingers are so big and perfect. So fucking long,
filling me up. Please add another,” Louis begs, and what? Add another?
How? How will another fit? Louis must read the look of confusion and
panic on his face because he cups Harry’s cheeks, bringing his eyes down to
meet his. “You’re big, Haz. Like really big. The biggest I’ve ever been with,
if I’m honest. Open me up good for you. Add another finger to make sure
I’m ready. I wanna be ready for you.” Harry just nods, not knowing what
else to do. He removes his fingers long enough to slide a third in along side
the first two very, very slowly. So slowly, Harry is pretty sure they should
be in college by now. Wouldn’t that be nice?
“Oh fuck.” The words come out of Louis’ mouth high and needy, like he
had to say them in order to stay sane. Harry agrees wholeheartedly. Harry
doesn’t move for a few moments, which could be hours really, as he waits
for Louis to adjust to the much larger size than he is used to. When Louis
starts moaning, and thrusting his own hips to get Harry deeper, Harry
decides it’s okay to move, once more starting the agonizingly gradual pace.
“This good?” Harry asks because he has to know. He has to know if what
he is doing is good, or if he is just fucking it up completely. He knows,
logically, that Louis wouldn’t be writhing and squirming beneath him if it
wasn’t good, but he needs a bit of reassurance to calm his racing mind.
“Yeah. I’m ready, Harry. Please. I’m ready. Need you inside of me,” Louis
moans out, looking at Harry with a fucked out expression, the blue in his
eyes almost completely gone, replaced by black. Harry swallows hard and
nods, slowly removing his fingers. Holy fucking shit. This is happening. In
a matter of moments, he is going to be inside Louis. Surrounded by his tight
heat. His cock gets impossibly harder at the thought, a spurt of precome
being released from the tip. With jittery movements, he reaches for the
condom, dropping the packet between them twice.
“Let me help, babe. Sometimes the lube makes it hard,” Louis says, smiling
up at him. Harry knows that’s a lie. Louis wants to help because Harry is so
fucking nervous he can’t hold the damn condom, but he appreciates the
excuse all the same. Louis takes the packet from his unsteady hands, using
his teeth to rip into the foil. He expertly pulls the condom out, then
carefully rolls it on Harry’s hard cock. Harry watches him do it, wanting to
learn how. He kind of knows how, but he has never seen anyone do it in
person, just on videos and even then they usually used some kind of phallic
shaped fruit like a cucumber or banana. Harry will never look at a banana
the same way again, that is for damn sure.
Harry winces with the over-sensitivity, but it feels fucking good. Louis
grabs the lube and squeezes some directly onto Harry’s condom covered
shaft, giving it a few tugs. The liquid is cold, even through the protective
barrier, but Louis’ hands are warm, therefore it balances it out. Harry shuts
his eyes, hoping to stave off his already quickly approaching orgasm.
Suddenly it dawns on Harry why Louis insisted on sucking him off first. He
never would have fucking lasted through all of this. He would have come
earlier or pretty much the moment he entered Louis’ tight heat. Harry wants
to kiss him in thanks, so he does just that, attacking Louis’ lips. Louis
makes a surprised sound, then begins kissing back, allowing Harry to push
him back down on the bed, returning to their previous position with Harry’s
hips cradled between Louis’ spread legs.
Without words, Louis reaches between their bodies and lines Harry up with
his tight hole. Like some unknown force is playing with them, the song
switches to a Lifehouse song called Hanging by a Moment . “Slow,” is all
Louis says, removing his hand and looking up into Harry’s eyes. The
amount of trust Harry sees there hurts his chest. Slow. He can do slow.
Harry begins carefully sinking into Louis, his tight heat squeezing Harry’s
cock like a vice, almost pulling him in. It takes everything in Harry not to
thrust into him however Louis said slow, and fuck that is exactly what
Harry is going to do. A growl escapes from deep within Harry’s chest as he
squeezes the sheets behind Louis’ head, trying to stave off his orgasm.
Jesus. He at least needs to fuck Louis first.
He closes his eyes, attempting to picture anything but Louis’ naked body
below him and the pressure in his own balls from the need to come. Once
he is completely seated, hips nestled perfectly against Louis’ round firm
ass, Harry swears he sees fireworks behind his eyelids. He hears them too.
When he opens his eyes, he is confused to be actually seeing the color of
fireworks flashing into his room, the tell tale sounds coming from outside.
Holy shit. It must be midnight. They are letting fireworks off to celebrate
the new year. Harry ignores it though, much more interested in the boy
under him, all around him. Louis who has found his way into Harry’s heart
making a home for himself there between the broken beats.
“Fuck, Harry. Oh my god. Move. Please. Need you to move,” Louis begs,
snapping Harry out of his thoughts as he grips onto Harry’s arms seeking
purchase. So Harry does, very slowly at first, letting his weight fall on top
of Louis completely, so that every inch of their skin is touching that
possibly can be. Louis seems to welcome it, wrapping his arms and legs
around Harry like he never wants to let go. Louis begins kissing any part of
Harry he can reach, his shoulder, his neck, his face. The kisses feel hot on
his skin, encouraging him.
“You feel so good, Lou. So tight. Fuck,” Harry mummers, the words
coming out slow and deep. Harry almost doesn't recognize the sound of his
own voice, shocked by it’s deep quality. Louis seems to like it, though,
because he moans directly into Harry’s ear, beginning to thrust his hips
back, pushing Harry deeper into his heat. Louis’ walls feel like they are fire,
searing Harry’s cock in the eternal flames of hell, but he is strangely okay
with this. He would gladly burn of Louis, burn of this. There is no way hell
could possibly be hotter than this moment, as if Louis is branding him in
some irrevocable way.
“Right there. Fuck. Harry. Holy shit. Right there. Keep fucking doing that,”
Louis pleads, voice almost whiny with need. Harry does everything in his
power not to change the angle he is currently at, not wanting to stop
whatever pleasure he is giving Louis. Harry wishes he was a photographer,
wishes he could capture this moment forever because Louis falling apart
below him is beautiful. The sounds of Louis’ whimpers and moans mix
with the lyrics of The Unforgiven II by Metallica, Harry's hips finding a
slow rhythm with the beat.
“Fuck, Louis. You’re so beautiful like this. So perfect.” It may not be the
epitome of dirty talk, but it is so fucking true Harry wants to cry. He then
dives his head down to kiss him because he feels the need to seal the words,
almost like a promise. Louis is beautiful like this. His brown hair is sweaty
and matted to his forehead, his pupils dilated to the point where only a
sliver of blue is actually showing. His body is covered in a thin layer of
sweat, and it feels as though it was made to cradle Harry. At this point,
Harry isn’t sure where one of them begins and the other ends, but he isn’t
concerned about finding the breaking point. They are both already too
broken as it is. Maybe they just need one another to complete themselves.
“God, Harry. I’m close,” Louis moans out, and thank the fucking gods in
every known pantheon because Harry is close, as well. He has been
teetering on the edge since he first entered Louis. Since he first learned the
feeling of Louis around him. He doesn’t even know how he lived without it
before. He doesn't know if he will ever be able to live without it again. He
feels like this is going to become a necessity for survival, like air and water.
He needs to breathe air, drink water, and do both to Louis.
“Me too.” Louis’ hands are everywhere, in his hair, on his his back, blunt
nails scraping, prompting Harry to start thrusting faster. Louis moans,
seeming to get exactly what he wanted. Louis reaches down between their
bodies and begins stroking his own cock, the wet tip rubbing against
Harry’s stomach turning him on even more if that is humanly fucking
possible.
“Oh fuck. Harry. I’m gonna come,” Louis cries out pulling Harry’s head
down into a punishing kiss, moaning with abandon while tightening his
short legs around Harry’s hips, forcing him even deeper. Harry feels it when
he does, his whole body tensing around him. Harry’s own orgasm literally
feels like it is being milked out of him, Louis’ hole gripping his cock so
tightly, Harry worries about losing circulation. Just like that, Harry tips and
topples over the line of obscurity, where he feels everything, but none of it
feels real as he spills into the condom, a growl being released from deep
within his chest into Louis’ mouth.
They lay like that for a few minutes or hours, wrapped in each other’s arms,
neither wanting to let the moment go. It feels almost fragile, life changing
in some ways. Harry knows that sounds ridiculous. They just had sex.
People have sex every single day, and the world never stops turning
however his own personal world did. When it halted, Louis took a moment
to rebuild some of it, making it better and stronger. That is why it feels life
changing because it kind of is to him. Louis is slowly picking up the pieces
of Harry’s shattered existence, and without knowing the exact cause for his
pain, finding a way to fit the shards back together. As with any large
project, it is taking time, but Harry isn’t sure Louis will ever give up. Harry
doesn't think he could give up on Louis either. He doesn’t want to. His chest
aches with the realization, his brain not processing it.
“I’m gonna go get something to clean you off with. Stay right here,” Harry
tells Louis, kissing his nose as he very slowly pulls out. He takes off the
condom and places it in the small trash can in his room. He goes to the
bathroom, wetting a washcloth then comes back to wipe Louis’ come off
his skin. Louis looks fucked out and sated, making a happy sound when
Harry is finished. Harry throws the dirty rag into his clothing hamper, then
gets under the covers to lay with Louis, opening his arms for the smaller
man. Louis doesn’t hesitate, draping half of his body over Harry’s in the
small bed. Harry cards his fingers through Louis’ hair, thinking about a
question Louis asked him earlier.
“My new year’s resolution is to try to be happy,” Harry says after a few
moments, the words coming out cracked almost like the walls he carefully
constructed around his heart years prior. Louis looks up at him, eyes shining
in the low light of the room, a small smile adorning his features. He can’t
believe he said it outloud, but he finds he doesn’t regret it. He doesn’t regret
a single fucking thing about the night.
“Mine is to help be the reason you are happy,” Louis replies moments later,
and Harry can’t help but smile. It’s fucking cheesy, but it is also incredibly
sweet. Louis is already the source of his happiness. Already the sun on his
most stormy days. Maybe he could tell him that eventually. Maybe he could
tell him everything.
“Can you stay?” Harry asks, the question falling from his lips before he
even thinks that it shouldn’t. He stops breathing, waiting for Louis’
response. He shouldn’t have asked him to stay. They haven't even defined
their relationship. Louis may not want to stay with his fuck buddy. Based on
what Louis has told him, he doubts very much that Louis has ever stayed
the night with any of his previous partners. They always fucked then Louis
left, sneaking back home and into his own bed. Why in the fuck did Harry
believe he would be any different? Is he any different? He feels like it was
different, but it is presumptuous of him to say the least.
“Yeah. My parents and sisters probably will sleep late, as long as I sneak
home before sunrise, I’ll be fine,” Louis answers, grabbing his phone,
probably setting an alarm. Harry can’t help the wide smile that takes over
his face, so happy to have Louis actually sleeping in his small bed with him
after such an incredible evening. At some point the music had stopped, so
they lay in silence for a few minutes, Harry stroking Louis’ spine while
Louis listens to the low thud of Harry’s beating heart.
“Happy New Year, Lou,” Harry says, looking at the time to see that it is
well past midnight. If someone would have told him that he would be
starting the year off having sex with a boy, Harry would have probably
punched them in the face, or at the very least laughed. It is insane how
much has changed in just a few short months; how much more will
probably change in the future. He hopes that he has started this year off
right, for once in his fucking life.
“Happy New Year, Hazza.” Louis’ voice is tired, barely above a whisper. A
few seconds later, Harry hears his breaths even out as he falls into slumber,
his long eyelashes casting shadows over his cheeks, making him look
angelic. Harry should turn off the light, but he would rather die than move
Louis at this very moment. He has wanted to die for less. A few minutes
later, he falls into a deep sleep, Louis’ breath ghosting over his chest. It is
probably the quickest he has fallen asleep in years, but he refuses to believe
the blue eyed boy resting over his heart has anything to do with that.
Chapter End Notes
I know it has taken over 120k to get here. They finally had sex!! I hope
it was worth the wait. I really fucking do. I know you are also
wondering who am I and what I have done with Lena? Lena would
never wait 120k for an actual sex scene. For this story, I thought it was
necessary since Harry is a virgin as well as untrusting. Like I said, I
really hope it was worth the wait.
The Devil and I
Chapter Summary
Louis comes up with a plan for him and Harry to see each other
outside of school.
Chapter Notes
There is a lot of college jargon mentioned in this chapter, so if you
have are not from America (or even if you are) and you have
questions, please feel free to ask anything.
Under the words of men
Something is tempting the father
Where is your will, my friend?
Insatiates never even bother
You and I, wrong or right
Traded a lie for the leverage
In between the lens in light

You're not what you seem- Slipknot
Louis is bored, so what does he do when he is bored in class? He bugs

Harry, of course, because when Louis is bored it is other people’s
responsibility to entertain him. Harry specifically. It comes with the perks
of Louis sucking his dick. He doesn’t make the rules. It’s their third day
back from the break, and the excitement of seeing their friends has died
down substantially, the entire senior class having been bogged down with
talk of college, SAT prep, and the importance of choosing a good major.
They are supposed to be working on their pre-Calc assignment, but Harry is
currently sitting beside him. He may be a bit distracted.
“Any ideas on where you are going for college?” Louis asks because the
question has been plaguing him since their guidance counselor came to
speak to his Spanish class this morning. Harry looks taken aback by the
question, his green eyes opening wide in surprise, dark brows shooting up
into his hairline. The green beanie he currently wearing has some of his
curls tucked into, making his eyes appear even more green, but Louis can’t
think about that. Oh yes. College. That is what he is apparently supposed to
be thinking about according to everyone in his life right now, including his
parents. The counselor must not have made it to one of his classes yet. Well
he is in for a treat. The woman is devastatingly boring, and she has a mole
on her chin that is so big, Louis was afraid it was going to also break out
into a speech about FAFSA. He would have been doubly bored then.
“Um-- I haven't really thought about it. I honestly didn’t think I would go,”
Harry answers with a shrug, looking back down at his calculus assignment,
and what? Harry is the smartest kid in school, hands down, why wouldn’t
he go to college? He remembers Harry writing in a note once that it was his
one ticket out of this place, so it’s odd to hear him dismiss it so readily
when it is brought up in conversation.
“What? You took the SAT with last week though. What wouldn't you go?”
Louis asks, remembering falling asleep on Harry's shoulder because they
had to get up so early to take it. He can feel his brows knitting together in
confusion, tapping Harry on the shoulder again. Why would Harry take the
test if he wasn't planning to go to college? He just realizes that Harry seems
to have taken off the hoodie he had been wearing to school and in first
period. He must have taken it off during second period, which they don’t
have together. Instead of the hoodie, Harry is wearing a white tank top, the
sleeves obviously having been cut out by himself. His pale white biceps are
on display, and Jesus, Mary and Joseph, it isn’t fair when Louis is
attempting to have a serious conversation with him about their futures. He
looks up, trying to distract himself from his desire to lick the crease
between the muscle and the skin.
“I took it ‘cause they paid for it and I got out of school to hang out with
you. I can’t really afford to go to college,” Harry responds, shrugging again
as if the answer should be obvious. Is it? Louis hadn’t even considered his
college not being paid for. Since Mark had adopted him, he always knew he
would have the GI bill to pay for his higher education, his parents making
up anything the government didn’t pay for. He never really thought about
what others did to pay for college, just assuming their parents began saving
for it since birth.
“There has to be another way. Aren’t there like scholarships, grants and
loans and stuff?” Louis asks, and Harry just shrugs in response, demeanor
instantly changing to shut off and distant. It reminds Louis of when they
first met, and he hates it. They have come a long way since then, but they
also have not come far enough. Harry’s body is tense now, arms crossed
over his chest. Louis knows what that means. Harry wants him to drop the
subject, and he is going to, sensing that talking more about it will only upset
Harry.
This isn’t the end of the conversation though. Not by a long shot. He wants
to continue it. He is sure their guidance counselor talked about it this
morning, and the difference between the two. Surely Harry would qualify
for such things. Honestly, Harry is more deserving of a scholarship than
anyone in this school. The fact that some of the guys on the football team,
who can’t even spell their own name correctly, are going to get full rides
because they can throw a fucking ball while Harry may not, makes Louis a
bit sick. Louis makes a mental note to look into it when he gets home. If he
approaches the topic again with facts, then Harry will be more open for a
discussion. Harry likes facts, after all, and Louis knows by now to battle
Harry with correct information, if nothing else.
Louis looks at Harry again, trying to think of something that will distract
him from the topic Louis had brought up. He finally sees what he will use,
snagging it out of Harry’s tight pocket. Harry’s eyes widen when Louis
pops the cap of the black sharpie, flipping it onto the other end. “What are
you doing?” Harry asks a little too loudly; they both freeze, looking to the
front of the room to see if they caught the teacher’s attention. They didn’t.
She is busy helping one of their classmates, paying them no mind
whatsoever.
“Drawing,” Louis says, shrugging. He then grabs Harry’s left arm, the skin
warm under his finger tips, and props it on the desk between them. Harry
looks confused but doesn't pull away. Good. It’s not the first time Louis has
drawn on him, and it probably won't be the last if he is being honest. He
likes to. It makes Harry smile for some reason, and Louis likes seeing the
reminder that he has marked him all day long even though Harry has
bruises on his neck to prove that in other ways. Before Harry, Louis hadn’t
realized he would be so possessive. Maybe because their relationship can’t
be public, they feel the need to claim one another in the form of marks on
their skin. Whatever the reason, Louis wants people to know that Harry is
his in some way, even though they don’t know he is his.
He pokes his tongue out to the side in concentration, drawing a messy heart
on Harry’s upper bicep, close to his armpit. He maneuvers the skin, warm
on his cool fingers, to make it more of a flat surface so that he can work.
When the outline it is done, Louis notes it is slightly crooked, but he doesn’t
care. He is just having fun and attempting to distract his boy. He then
begins filling it in, coloring the entire thing black before he declares it done.
Harry looks down, smiling.
“What happened to your hoodie, by the way?” Louis asks, not that he’s
complaining. Hell no. He misses seeing Harry in tank tops since the
weather turned cold. His skin seems even paler now that it isn’t getting any
sun at all, and Louis wants to bite it. He did bite it. He shivers, thinking
about what happened on New Year’s Eve. What Harry made the decision to
ask for, and what Louis wanted more than anything. He will never forget
the look on Harry’s face when he first entered Louis. It was a mix of
surprise, shock, and utter pleasure. Louis wanted to tattoo it on his fucking
eyelids. Maybe tattoos aren’t so bad after all.
“Took it off during art ‘cause we were painting. Didn't want to ruin my only
hoodie,” Harry tells him admiring the new black heart on his arm. Louis’
dick twitches because he put that look on Harry’s face. He doesn’t miss the
comment though, and the fact that Harry only has one hoodie. Louis has at
least a dozen hoodies, if not more. How could Harry only have one good
one? He really shouldn’t be surprised anymore, but he just seems to forget
about the little conveniences he has in his own life that Harry probably
doesn’t.
“I’m not complaining,” Louis responds, closing the marker and throwing it
on Harry’s leather journal. Harry still won't let him go anywhere near it, but
he has gotten a better peek at it since the beginning of the year. It is brown,
old and worn, with Harry’s messy scrawl decorating the front and back.
Louis can’t make out everything, but phrases like ‘one and only’ and the
newest addition ‘let us love’ which Louis finds fascinating. Harry takes a
moment to stretch, his long arms coming above his head. Louis watches the
motion, eyes traveling to the expanse of muscle. His bracelets fall down his
arm, and something catches his eye that has Louis’ heart stopping.
Scars. Harry has scars under the bracelets. Suddenly, everything clicks into
place. Why harry never takes off his jewelry, why he constantly fidgets with
that spot in particular when he is anxious. Everything clicks like pieces of a
puzzle, and Louis can’t fucking breathe. He quickly draws his gaze away,
not wanting Harry to know that he saw. What the fuck? Does Harry hurt
himself? Has he? None of the marks look new, so that’s at least good, but
holy fuck. Louis blinks back the tears threatening to take over his entire
being. Why would Harry hurt himself? What the fuck happened to Harry to
make him want to do such a thing? The questions are racing through his
mind at light speed, and Louis feels like his brain is about to short circuit.
Louis wants to cry. This lovely, perfect boy hurts himself, and Louis has no
idea why. Louis has had a suspicion for months that something had
happened to Harry to make him distrusting. It is in the way he refused to
even speak to Louis at first, the way he closes himself off to everyone, and
in the way that he flinches when touched by someone he doesn’t know, or if
he is caught off guard. Cutting just adds to that theory, solidifying Louis’
belief that something horrible did happen to Harry, by the hands of others
most likely, and Harry was so distraught, he took to hurting himself to take
his own emotional anguish away.
Louis can’t stop the mental images of Harry crying while cutting himself
from forming in his head. He can’t stop watching a recreation of Harry
using some unknown sharp object to mark his beautiful pale skin, the red
blood a stark contrast. Louis’ eyes sting with the pictures in his mind’s eye,
and he just fucking can’t. Can’t take the fact that his sweet, caring boy
would hurt himself in such a way. Suddenly, anger floods his veins, wanting
to find whoever hurt Harry and make them pay for their misdeeds. Harry
probably never did anything to deserve that. His heart physically hurts with
what Harry must have gone through, and he doesn’t even know details. He
holds his eyes open until they burn, hoping that maybe the tears there will
evaporate, and Harry won’t see.
“Lou, you okay?” Harry’s deep voice breaks into his subconscious, pulling
him from his spiral. He blinks a few times, attempting to focus on Harry’s
face. The same face that has been covering years worth of pain behind a
mask. The same one that is slowly showing Louis the real version of
himself. Louis knows he can’t bring this up. He knows if he does, Harry
would never talk to him about it. Harry will when he is ready, and not a
moment before, so he pushes it to the side.
“Yeah. I’m fine. Sorry, I was lost in my head there,” Louis says, pasting on
a fake smile. If Harry can do it, Louis can do it too.
_________
“Are you sure this is going to work?” Harry asks, looking at Louis’ house
forlornly. His heart is racing in anticipation for what they are about to do.
He swallows, looking over to Louis for reassurance. It has become a habit,
looking to Louis for many things. Harry doesn’t know if it is a habit he is
willing to break though.
“It’ll be fine, Haz. Have a little faith,” he says with a smirk, emphasizing
his chosen word, and Harry may actually kill him. Harry looks back to the
large house, taking a deep, shaky breath before following Louis. Louis
opens the door confidently, smiling at the sudden onslaught of noise that
slightly horrifies Harry. Silence. Silence is what Harry is used to when he
first enters his own house. When he came to Louis’ for Thanksgiving he
was kind of expecting the chaos, given the holiday, but he had no idea it
was so chaotic every single day. Harry winces when a shrill shriek goes
through his eardrums and straight to his brain like a hot poker. He doesn’t
even know what she is screaming about, he just wants it to stop.
As they toe off their shoes, leaving them by the door, he looks around the
room to find Mark sitting on the couch, doing absolutely nothing while Jay
runs around the living room, trying to do far too many things at once. Harry
glances to Louis, watching his eyes widen then he springs into action, going
over to his arguing twin sisters, one currently screaming and crying, the
other looking upset and on the verge of tears. His mom glances at him
thankfully, going up the stairs probably to confront Lottie and Fizzy who
seem to be having an argument of their own, if the shouts from that
direction are anything to go by. He follows Louis instead of standing
awkwardly in the doorway, allowing Mark to stare at him.
“Daisy, you know it is not nice to hit, so why did you hit your sister?” Louis
asks carefully, the words coming out slow and measured. He has bent his
knees so that he is eye level with the little girls, looking at them with
disappointment. They both look down guiltily, fat tears streaming down
who Harry thinks is Daisy’s face, pout prominent on her dark pink lips.
Harry’s heart breaks for her. He kind of wants to scoop her up and hug her
and give her ice cream or something, but he doesn’t. What does he know
about kids? Louis seems to be handling it, so he just scrunches down beside
him to look at them.
“She wasn’t sharing,” Daisy explains, her bottom lip wobbling, clearly
trying to hold back more tears. Her shiny eyes glance down at the the doll
in her left hand, the one her sister is also holding.
“That is still no reason to hit your sister. You know better than that.
Apologize to her right now please,” Louis tells her sternly, tone brooking no
argument.
“I sowry for hitting you, Phoebe. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Daisy
apologizes sincerely, dropping the toy and looking at her sister with big
blue eyes.
“What do you say, Phoebe?” Louis asks, eyes glancing between the two
girls.
“I accept your sowry.” Phoebe then glances over at Louis who shoots her a
look then adds, “And I sorry for not sharing my toy.” The girls then hug,
and Harry is astonished. Louis is such a good big brother, not that Harry
didn’t think he was, he had just never really seen him in action. Harry’s
heart feels full with the realization that Louis is going to make a wonderful
dad someday. Harry, personally, isn’t sure if he wants kids. He is too fucked
up to put that on them, but being around Louis’ siblings is making him
reconsider.
“Hazzy!” Daisy exclaims, seeming to just now realize Harry is there, and he
suddenly has an arm full of little girl, as she wipes her tear stained cheek on
his hoodie. Phoebe follows soon after, throwing Harry off balance, making
him fall to his ass right in the middle of the living room, both girls giggling
joyfully in his ear as they land on him in one big heap. Harry tries to hold
back a wince of pain as the corner of a book stabs him in the spine from
inside his backpack. Harry can hear Louis laughing too, and Harry can’t
help but release his own chuckle.
“And what’s going on in here?” Harry hears a feminine voice ask, then he
looks up between the strands of blond hair to see Jay standing beside Louis,
both wearing identical smirks. It is creepy how much they look alike in that
moment, making a shiver travel down Harry’s spine as he starts attempting
to get the twins off him. They both feel like dead weights, so Louis laughs
then bends down to pull Daisy off first, setting her on her feet, followed by
Phoebe. Finally, he offers a hand to Harry, pulling him up with little effort,
surprising Harry with his strength.
“Mom, you remember Harry,” Louis says once Harry is on his feet and
fixing his hoodie, with both Daisy and Phoebe hugging his legs.
“Of course, Harry I want to thank you for giving Louis a helping hand with
physics. He has been struggling in the class, so we really appreciate you
agreeing to tutor him.” During her speech, Mark finally decides to get off
the couch to join them, looking at Harry with a critical eye. Harry tried to
wear clothes that didn’t scream ‘I listen to the devil’s music’, but he still
wearing mostly black.
“Oh you’re welcome. It’s not a big deal. He doesn’t even need a whole
hand, maybe just a finger or two, three tops,” Harry smirks with the lie
glancing over at Louis who looks like he just choked on air at Harry’s
comment. Jay and Mark look none the wiser, both just smiling and nodding
at Harry.
“At least let us pay you,” Jay says, but Harry cuts her off.
“No. I don’t want any kind of payment,” Harry tells her, feeling a bit guilty
for the first time since they arrived. Louis’ grade is perfectly fine in
physics; it’s just a lie they came up with so he and Louis could spend time
together outside of school. Back stairwell blowjobs are great and all, but it’s
not the same as spending time together to actually speak. Well at least that
is what Louis said, and Harry didn’t disagree with him. They don’t get a
whole lot of time to actually talk outside of class without ttheir teacher
breathing down their necks, so Harry could see the merits of the lie.
“Alright, we are gonna head up,” Louis says, pointing his thumb to the
stairs, then clapping Harry on the shoulder, both turning towards them
attempting to make a speedy getaway before Mark wants them to bless their
homework or some shit with some sort of ridiculous prayer. Harry thinks
the man probably has a prayer for everything. Your back hurts? Pray about
it. Need a promotion at work? Pray about it. Can’t take a shit? Oh, you
should pray. Harry hates those types. Always wanting handouts from a god
that doesn’t exist instead of putting in actual work. Then if they don’t get
what they asked for, it’s ‘in God’s plan’. Harry internally rolls his eyes at
that, as they begin making their way up the stairs, listening to Jay shush the
girls’ protests.
“Do you have the next one?” Louis asks as soon as they get into his room,
unceremoniously dumping his backpack near the door, before shutting it
behind him. Harry ignores the question for a moment, in favor of taking in
the room’s appearance. It is a typical ‘boy’s’ room which isn’t shocking
given Louis’ step-dad. The room is large, far bigger than Harry’s, and the
walls are painted a light blue with a cream carpet. The walls are mostly
blank, with none of the posters Harry has on his own walls. The words
‘Through God, all things are possible’ adorn one wall, in big black swoopy
letters. It looks like one of those stickers, and Harry internally cringes
again. Directly to his right is a desk with a laptop; beside it is a bookshelf
with mostly sports trophies instead of actual books. Harry wants to inspect
them more, but instead his gaze wanders over to the bed, a light gray
bedspread laying over it haphazardly, as if Louis was quick to make it up
this morning.
“Yeah,” Harry finally answers distractedly, hands in his pockets as he

continues to take in every little detail of the room.
“Oh sorry. This is my room.” Louis shrugs, looking around probably trying
to see it from Harry’s perspective, but his eyes come back to Harry,
watching him as he begins tentatively walking towards the trophies. Most
of them have a little golden man holding a football on the top, but some are
for other sports like baseball, soccer, and basketball with ‘Louis Tomlinson’
followed by a date and the award etched into the gold plate. None of them
seem to be participation trophies, which Harry appreciates. “That is the
bathroom,” Louis says as he points to a door Harry hadn’t realized was
there, “You know, just in case you need to go or whatever.”
“You have your own bathroom?” Harry asks, not able to keep the shock
from his voice or expression. Louis has a bathroom in his fucking room?
Harry has always shared a bathroom with his mom and sister. They have
never lived in a place with more than one, not even when his dad was in the
picture. He gapes at Louis, taking a few steps to glance into the bathroom
then looks back at Louis, mouth hanging open.
“Yeah. I mean. It’s not that big of a deal, right? Mom and Mark have one in
their room down stairs, then Lottie, Fizzy, Phoebe and Daisy all share the
one down the hall,” Louis explains, pointing in the direction of probably the
bathroom his sisters share. Harry swallows, trying to hide the fact that he
thinks it is kind of a big deal. He decides to change the subject because that
is always a fair move.
“Really?” He asks Louis, gesturing to the words on the wall, with raised
eyebrows, smirk firmly in place. Louis blushes, which is just so fucking
adorable Harry wants to kiss him. His eyes find their way back to the wall,
gaze traveling over the words again. He wants to roll his eyes, but refrains
because he knows Louis still believes in God, for the most part.
“Yeah. Sorry. Mom put it up,” Louis explains putting his hands in his
pockets. “So, where is it?”
It takes Harry a few seconds to figure out what the fuck Louis referring to.
Finally it dawns on him, a small ‘oh’ escaping his lips before he shrugs off
his backpack, looking for a place to sit. Louis gestures to the bed, so Harry
shrugs sitting down. The mattress is soft and squishy, without any of the
normal lumps or springs poking through that Harry is used to. The bed is
also a full, which is nice given that Harry’s is just a twin. Lots of room for
activities. Harry’s cock twitches at the thought of those activities then it
wanders to pictures of Louis masturbating under the covers, a look of
pleasure on his face. Harry shuts his eyes and shakes his head, attempting to
focus. Oh yeah, he is supposed to be getting what Louis had asked for. He
carefully unzips his backpack pulling out the book.
“Gimme,” Louis says, making grabby hands at Harry prompting Harry to

offer an amused smile, handing it over. Louis immediately turns to the back,
reading over the blurb. He distractedly hands Harry the first book back, and
he tucks it into his backpack, out of sight. Harry’s mind, for whatever
reason, goes back to when his mom asked him if he was dealing drugs.
Maybe because Louis is making him feel somewhat like a drug supplier by
the way he is acting, but Harry finds it kind of funny. He wishes more
people would see knowledge as a drug instead of a chore.
“So what did you think of the first one?” Harry asks, looking at the copy of
Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets that is currently being held in
Louis’ small hands. It is his least favorite of the series, but he is still excited
for Louis to read it. Louis seemed to love the first one, given the text of
‘akdkajkjda’ he received one morning. They haven't had time to actually
discuss it though. Harry figured it would be too much to text, and he hated
the thought of not being able to see Louis’ expressions while doing so.
“I loved it,” Louis answers, and Harry can already tell there is more. He
watches as Louis tries to put together the rest of his thoughts, waiting
patiently for the inevitable. “I just don’t understand why my parents were so
threatened by it.” There it is. A feeling of satisfaction blooms in Harry’s
chest, so proud at his boy for thinking critically without being prompted.
“I wish I had an answer for you, but I don’t,” Harry tells him, watching as
his favorite look takes over Louis’ features, the one that he has seen many,
many times now. His firm lips are slightly puckered, blue eyes cast down in
thought, eyebrows furrowed. Fuck. He’s so pretty, Harry isn’t sure what to
do. He still hasn’t even figured out why someone as pretty and confident as
Louis would want anything to do with him.
“Like, it makes no sense. It is a children’s book. Clearly a work of fiction.

Like I just finished it, and I don’t want to go out and worship Satan. Satan
isn’t even fucking mentioned in it. Why would so many Christians be up in
arms over it?” Louis looks as if he is having an internal crisis, and Harry
feels kind of bad for wanting to smile. This is just the first time Louis has
asked these types of questions without being prompted, which is amazing. It
means he is thinking about it. It’s not that Harry wants Louis to be an
atheist, he just wants him to see the flaws in his religion. If that leads to
atheism, which it usually does, then Harry can’t help that.
“I agree. It doesn’t make any sense. It’s completely illogical. Don’t you
wonder why Christians are so threatened by it? Is their narrative so fragile
that a children’s book can unravel it?” Harry asks, watching Louis closely
for a response. It’s not so much what Louis is going to say but rather his
body language when he says it. Louis doesn’t look as if his world is falling
apart like he did during their first conversation. In all honesty, he looks as if
he was thinking the exact same thing, just too scared to voice it. Maybe
someday, Louis won’t be so scared, at least not with Harry.
“I know. I was actually thinking about that myself when I finished it. I
wanted to talk to you so bad, but it was 3 am, and I figured you were
asleep.” Harry’s heart feels like it is going to burst out of his chest with
Louis’ words. The fact that Louis wanted to talk to him, and not anyone
else over this, makes Harry unbelievably happy. To know that Louis also
has moments where he just wants to talk to Harry, makes him realize that
maybe this isn’t one sided.
“You should have. I never sleep. If I was, by some miracle, asleep, then I
still would have answered because it’s you.” Harry says the last part quietly,
looking down, not wanting Louis to see his face which he can feel is hot.
He has no idea why he admitted that, but he doesn't think he regrets it. He
wants Louis to know that, just in case he needs to call him at some absurd
time for whatever reason.
“Please don’t hesitate to call me anytime either, but why don’t you sleep,
Haz?” Louis asks, small fingers pulling up Harry’s chin so that they are
looking in each other’s eyes. Harry is taken aback by the question. No one
has ever asked him that, but then again very few people know about his
sleeping habits or lack thereof. Louis answered his own questions about
Harry Potter, so he should probably answer to the best of his ability, in the
interest of fairness and all that.
“I don’t really know, I just-- I don’t sleep well. I haven't for a long time.
Sometimes, I go, like weeks, without sleeping more than a few hours a
night,” Harry responds finally, trying to put what happens into words. He's
not even going to consider telling Louis about the nightmares that happen
when he is able to sleep. They don’t happen as often anymore, but they do
still happen on occasion, but maybe he can tell him about the other stuff.
“Do you have insomnia or something?” Louis asks, look of concern etched
deeply into his face. Harry recognizes it as concern and not pity, this time.
“I’m not sure. Maybe? I haven't been, like, tested or anything, but I have
trouble falling asleep then staying asleep,” Harry starts, then pauses, not
sure if he wants to tell Louis some of the other things that happen while he
is asleep. He has never told anyone, but maybe he should confined in Louis.
Louis seems to tell him things that he doesn't tell anyone else. He just isn’t
sure how to say it. He has never had to really formulate it in a vocal
discussion. Poems, yes, but never verbally. He takes a deep breath, thinking
about how he wants explain it, then continues, “Sometimes, this super
weird thing happens to me while I am still asleep.”
“What do you mean?” Louis asks curiously. Harry sighs, getting frustrated
by not being able to actually say what he means. He racks his brain for an
explanation, trying to desperately think of a way to tell Louis what happens
to him.
“Um--like, sometimes I will wake up, but I can’t move. It’s like I am
paralyzed or something. Like I can hear everything going on around me,
sometimes even, like, my mom talking on the phone or something, but I
can’t physically move,” Harry tells him, and he knows he sounds insane. It
sounds crazy even to him, but Louis looks to be considering his words,
taking them in with a thoughtful expression, similar to the one he has when
they discuss faith.
“That sounds really scary. I don’t think you’re crazy. Have you googled it
or anything?” Louis asks, and Harry believes him. Louis doesn’t think he’s
crazy. It is kind of relieving, honestly. Someone believes him. He verbally
explained it, and someone fucking believes him. He thought that if he ever
told anyone, they would think he was crazy. He shakes his head in response,
and Louis looks like he is making a mental note to do it himself. Louis
places his hand on Harry ribs, beginning to say something, but Harry wasn’t
expecting the action. It fucking tickles, and Harry can’t stop the giggle that
escapes from his lips as he pulls away from the touch.
_______
Louis almost chokes. What the fuck was that? Did Harry just… did he just
giggle? That is the only way to describe the sound that just came out of
Harry’s mouth as he pulls away from Louis’ touch with a smile. Harry
fucking giggled, and Louis feels like his world has been turned upside
down, yet again. It may be his new favorite sound, and he feels like he may
die if he doesn’t hear it again. The sound is slightly high pitched, but still
gravely coming out in a short huff, followed by two quick laughs. It’s like
music or some shit. Louis probably wouldn’t be allowed to listen to it if it
were music since he can’t listen to anything that bring him joy, but he
would want to. Could probably listen to it all damn day. Then it dawns on
him as to what caused the beautiful sound in the first place.
Harry’s ticklish. Holy fucking shit. How did Louis not know this? He feels
like he just discovered the Lost Arch of the Covenant or something equally
as rare. Who needs to know that the physics equation for energy is e=mc^2
when they could know that Harry Styles is ticklish? Louis allows a
mischievous grin to take over his face as he tackles Harry onto the bed,
straddling him and digging his fingers into Harry’s side prompting him to
burst out in loud laughter this time, well past a giggle, and Louis feels like
he is living for the first time. He has heard Harry laugh before, of course,
has even brought the sound out of him a couple of times, but this is
different. This isn’t a quick burst of laughter that Harry stops after a few
seconds, this is all out full belly laughs, and he looks so fucking happy
Louis feels like his heart could burst. The feeling stabs his chest, his heart
threatening to stop all together.
“Stop! Stop!” Harry laughs, warm breath ghosting over Louis’ face while
attempting to grab his hands or wrists to stop them from their attack, and
Louis wants to cry for some reason. There is just something so perfect
about the moment. Something so pure about Harry laughing over being
fucking tickled. “Your parents could hear, and I have asthma,” Harry
whispers through breaths of laughter, obviously trying to quieten himself.
Louis leans in to hear, his face inches away from Harry’s. He knows Harry’s
asthma isn’t that bad. He hasn’t even seen him touch his inhaler, but fuck.
Harry’s other point still stands. His parents could hear them laughing and
ask Louis what they were doing or worse, come upstairs to inspect the
noise, finding a locked door.
“But I like it. What should I do instead, hmm?” Louis asks, lips mere inches
away from Harry’s, eyes darting down to look at them before coming back
up to Harry’s. The smile melts off of Harry’s face, but his eyes are still
sparkling in the light of the room, looking like green, glittering stars in the
heavens accept Harry is more beautiful than those even. He can find an
entire galaxy in Harry’s green eyes, with swirls of blue and gray
throughout, the black rim around them making the colors stand out even
more. It’s like they hold the secrets of the universe. They probably do.
Harry has certainly taught him a lot in the few months that they have known
each other.
“I don’t know-- perhaps something else you like,” Harry responds, voice
barely above a whisper. Louis can’t stop himself from leaning down to
bring their lips together even if God himself told him not to do it. God has
pretty much told him not to do it, if he believes the words written by God
through man of course, but as Harry has pointed out, that is kind of flawed,
isn’t it? Harry made several good points that day, even Louis will admit
that. Points that Louis hasn’t been able to shake from his head. His dick
begins to stir as the kiss gets dirtier, all spit and teeth in their lust and haste.
Holy fuck. He is kissing a boy, on his bed, in his room, mere yards away
from his parents and sisters, but he can’t seem to find the fucks to give
because Harry tastes like heaven and sin all in one. Louis deepens this kiss,
allowing his tongue to sneak into Harry’s mouth, seeking more. Louis
makes a surprised noise when Harry’s long arms wrap around his torso, and
he flips them in one fluid motion, coming to land in between Louis’ legs.
He feels it when Harry’s large hand snakes down between their bodies,
popping the button of his jeans easily. Louis would smile at the confidence
Harry has gained, but he is too busy being kissed senseless by the other boy.
Louis actually whimpers when Harry breaks their kiss, getting up on his
knees, placing Louis’ legs on either side of his shoulder. He glances at
Louis’ bare feet with a smirk, and says, “You’re legs are so short.” Louis
glares at him and rears back to smack him, but he can’t really be mad when
Harry lifts his hips to pull Louis’ jeans off completely. Louis hisses out a
breath when the cold air of his room hits his half hard dick. “Where’s your
lube, love?” Harry asks, running his hands up and down Louis’ bare thighs,
his thumbs barely grazing Louis balls before they travel back to his knees.
“Can’t have sex,”Louis whispers frantically, looking at the door then back
to Harry, afraid even saying it would bring his parents to the room. He
knows they are probably down stairs, watching TV and are none the wiser,
but that doesn't stop his heart from racing at the idea of getting caught by
them. At the same time, it is kind of thrilling. Doing something so bad right
under their noses. He hangs on to that feeling, allowing it course through
his veins, suddenly liking the idea of doing something in his room, on his
bed, with Harry. He may not be ready to have sex here yet, but the very
notion of getting away with something they would deem so filthy kind of
turns him on more. Louis can dwell on that later though, because Harry is
talking to him, and he needs to pay fucking attention.
“Calm down, babe. We won’t have sex. Just wanted to have it just in case,”
Harry is saying, his kiss bitten lips forming around the words like they
would Louis’ dick, and Louis can’t fucking breathe. Louis just nods and
points to his bedside table.
“It’s in there. Hidden in the Bible box,” Louis tells him with a smile. It is a
newer hiding place, but it works. His parents would never think to look in a
Bible box for sex paraphernalia. It is honestly the perfect hiding spot, and
Louis is shocked he didn’t think of it sooner. Before Harry though, he
would have probably been afraid to have been struck down by God for
doing such a thing. The lube and condoms have been in there since
Christmas now, and God hasn’t smote him yet.
“It may burn me,” Harry jokes, reaching into the drawer to locate the box.
He comes back up to Louis holding a bottle of lube triumphantly with a
large smile on his face, as if he discovered a lost treasure. He has though.
Louis has no idea what he plans to do with the lube, but he watches with
curious eyes as Harry lays it on the bed beside of him. He feels kind of
weird being only naked from the waist down, but he supposes it’s for the
best if they get an unplanned visitor. He already has an escape plan in mind
if they were to get caught. That’s not damning, is it?
Harry must be able to see the look of panic on his face because he looks
down at him, offering a small smile. “We don’t have to do anything if
you’re not comfortable. We could like actually study if you want. I just
thought we could take advantage of the semi-alone time,” Harry says with
shrug, and Louis knows that if he tells Harry to stop, he will, but Louis
doesn't want him to. He wants to continue this because his dick is hard, and
Harry is devastating. So fucking what if he does this under his parents roof?
Is it really that much different than doing it under the roof of a stranger after
he sneaks out?
“I want to, but I have an escape plan. If someone knocks on the door, I will
grab my jeans and run into the bathroom while you quickly hide the lube
and open the door telling the person on the other side that I just went to pee
or some shit,” Louis says all in one breath, and Harry brows hit his hairline,
eyes going wide, with a smirk threatening to take over his face. Louis
doesn’t blame him. Harry is used to Louis speaking fast, but never that
quickly.
“Okay. I had already thought of that,” Harry responds voice deep with
arousal, making a shiver go up Louis’ spine. Harry’s voice just does
something to him. Fuck. Harry leans down to kiss him again, making Louis
momentarily forget that that his parents are just a floor below them,
carrying on with their lives having no idea that their son is participating in
homosexual activities with his so called friend. Harry then begins to trail
hot kisses down Louis jaw, pausing to kiss and suck on his neck right over
his pulse point. Louis throws his head back against the pillow, giving Harry
more room to mark him. If his parents have noticed the bruising Harry has
left, they haven't said anything, probably thinking Willow is the culprit.
“Just tell me to stop, and I will,” Harry mummers in his ear, the words
bathing Louis in arousal as his hand comes down to stroke Louis to full
hardness, his rings cool against the heated skin of Louis’ groin. Louis just
nods, watching with hooded eyes as Harry slowly sinks down his body,
lining his face up with Louis’ dick. Louis holds his breath as Harry lowers
his mouth onto Louis length at an agonizing pace, the head being enveloped
in a wet, warm heat before the rest. Louis’ eyes roll back into his head when
Harry takes him deep, the vibration from his moan going straight to Louis’
balls. Holy fucking shit. Louis knew Harry would kill him when he finally
gained more confidence with giving a blow job, but he had no idea it would
be from a heart attack.
“Fuck. Harry,” Louis moans, pulling off Harry’s beanie throwing it to the
side so that he can push his fingers into Harry’s curls to hold him down on
his dick a moment longer. Harry doesn’t seem to mind the action, his hips
rutting into the bed as Louis does it. As if Harry need more contact with
Louis’ overheated skin, his large hands come up push Louis’ shirt up almost
to his collarbone. Then he begins tweaking Louis’ hard nipples as his head
bobs up in down, the sensations making Louis feel as though he is going to
squirm out of his skin. He had no idea his nipples were this sensitive, but
holy fucking shit, they are.
“Your mouth feels so good,” Louis whispers, looking down at Harry with
his red lips wrapped tightly around his shaft, taking him further than he ever
has before. When did Harry get so good at this? Louis gives himself a
mental pat on the back because he must be a damn good teacher because
what Harry is doing is downright unholy. He flattens his tongue on the vain
that runs up Louis shaft, flicking the head with a firm tongue each time he
pulls off only to repeat the process. Changing up the pace and technique to
keep Louis on his toes.
Louis whines when Harry removes his hands from his chest but is too
wrapped up in the sensation of being enveloped in Harry’s mouth to hear
the lube cap being popped open. He feels it when a wet finger circles his
hole. He props his legs on Harry’s back, giving Harry more access while he
digs his heels in using Harry as leverage to thrust up into the other boy’s
waiting heat. Harry uses Louis’ own momentum to slip the tip of his finger
inside, allowing Louis to fuck himself on the digit to take it deeper with
each motion. Louis isn’t sure what sensation feels better, the finger in his
ass or Harry’s ridiculous mouth. He just knows he never wants it to end.
“Fuck. More. Please, more,” Louis moans on a whisper, being mindful that
his parents may hear them and wonder what the fuck Louis is asking for
more of. He really should be quiet, but he has never been a quiet person
during sex, and he doesn't know if he can stop now because Harry feels too
fucking good. Harry makes the decision for him, bringing one large hand up
to clap over Louis’ mouth, effectively shutting him up. Louis’ eyes widen
with the action, looking down to find Harry staring at him with his dick in
his mouth, as if asking if what he did was okay. Louis just nods, breathing
heavily through his nose around Harry’s hand, Harry’s undeniable scent
only sending more sparks of arousal coursing through his system straight to
his dick.
When Harry adds a second finger, Louis’ loud moan is muffled by Harry’s
hand, still holding tightly over his mouth. Thank God, because Louis
doesn't know how much longer he can go without fucking screaming, the
pressure in his balls feeling intense. Harry then finds a rhythm, fucking into
Louis with two long, thick fingers as his mouth sinks down onto his length
at the same time, and Louis is fucking doomed. He grips Harry’s hair tightly
and begins fucking up into Harry’s mouth again, allowing him to just
concentrate on the pace of his fingers. Louis’ body feels like it is on fire, as
Harry’s mouth and fingers go deeper, the later brushing against his prostate
with each thrust. He knows he is moaning with abandon now, the noise
being muffled by Harry just like Harry’s noises are being muffled by his
dick.
Louis looks down to find Harry rutting against the mattress, getting off on
Louis getting off which just spurs Louis on more. It is like one big fucking
circle, and Louis can’t be fucked to care, not when all he can feel, see, and
think about is Harry. Louis is close, teetering on the edge and briefly panics
when he realizes he can’t warn Harry. He pulls Harry’s hair hard to get his
attention, but Harry shakes his his head, going back to the task at hand
which seems to be getting Louis to come in his mouth. Okay. Louis can do
that. He has done that, and holy fucking shit it seems as though he is going
to do it again and soon. Harry doubles his efforts, letting Louis fuck up into
his mouth quickly while keeping his fingers in one place, pressed against
his prostate, automatically moving everytime time Louis moves his own
hips.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” Louis chants behind Harry’s hand, the words sounding
like nothing more than garbled moans to his ears. He watches Harry’s hip
stutter and he knows, knows, that Harry just came in his pants, as the other
boy releases a deep moan around Louis’ dick. “I’m gonna come,” Louis
screams into Harry’s palm, releasing into Harry’s hot mouth, whole body
tensing and shaking with his orgasm. Harry freezes, allowing Louis to
thrust his hips up so that he is deep in Harry’s mouth, shooting his load
down his throat. Harry swallows around it, pressing against Louis’ prostate
again making more spurt from Louis’ slit. Holy fucking shit. Where the
fucking hell did Harry learn that?
After the stars have disappeared from Louis’ vision, he allows his knees to
open, relaxing enough for Harry to remove his fingers carefully, while also
taking his hand off of Louis’ mouth. Harry is definitely going to have
bruises on his shoulder blades where Louis’ heels were digging into his soft
skin. “Sorry,” Harry whispers, a smirk on his features. “Had to get you to be
quiet.” He shrugs, coming up to lay beside Louis, fully clothed.
“I didn’t mind. I have always been kind of loud,” Louis responds, bringing
his hand up to Harry’s cheek, stroking his sharp jawline, a feeling of
warmth blooming in his chest at this boy. His boy. His smart, strong, lovely
boy. Louis is jarred by the realization that he never wants to let him go.
Ever. He just doesn’t know how to keep him. He would get disowned by his
parents, never be allowed to even go near his sisters again which would
break his heart. He would get kicked out of the house and have nowhere to
go or live. He also still isn’t exactly sure where Harry fits in with his faith.
He knows it’s wrong, but then again, he isn’t so sure it really is wrong
anymore. He feels like he is in a battle with himself.
“I should go,” Harry says after laying together, talking for a while. Louis
looks at the clock, noting that it is almost time for dinner. He almost wants
Harry to stay for it, but he knows Harry will decline the offer, seeing it as a
hand out. He also wants to protect Harry as much as he can from the hateful
words that are commonly spewed during dinner. He knows Harry would try
to hold his tongue, but it would still hurt him. Louis is used to it now. Even
though Harry is as well, he still has a desire to protect him.
“Okay. Yeah. I’ll drive you home,” Louis says, getting up and stretching.
He finds his own pants pulling them on, hopping to get them up his shapely
thighs. Harry smirks at him, then looks down at his own, grimacing at the
large come stain. Louis had almost forgotten that Harry came in his pants.
He is surprised Harry wasn’t apologizing for it because of embarrassment,
but it seems that maybe Harry was actually listening the night of the
homecoming dance when Louis said it was a turn on. It is. The fact that his
dick just twitched in his jeans as he remembered it is proof.
“I have some sweats you can borrow,” Louis tells him, already rifling
through his dresser. Harry is quite a bit taller than him, so he looks for ones
that are either too long or that Harry could pull up, so they wouldn’t look
weird. They are just going to Louis’ car, so it shouldn’t be too big of a deal.
He smiles when he finds a pair, throwing Harry the pain black sweats. Louis
laughs as they hit Harry in the face, hand coming up to catch them before
they fall to the floor. Harry looks at them skeptically. “They may be a bit
short, but they should fit.”
“What will we tell your parents if they ask why I am wearing your pants?”
Harry asks even as he unbuttoned his own, pulling them and his underwear
down his long legs. Louis’s dick twitches again, seeing Harry unclothed
even though he is soft. The man is gorgeous.
“Eh-- We can just say you spilled soda on them or something,” Louis
replies with a shrug, but Harry’s head snaps up, looking at him as if he has
three heads. “What?”
“You’re just really good at lying. That’s all,” Harry responds, shoving his
legs into Louis’ pants, pulling them up on his hips. They are short for him,
so he pulls them up so that they are bunched around his calf. His old worn
out chucks will look strange with them, but it doesn't matter. Louis can’t
deny that he likes the look of Harry in his clothes, another way to claim
him. He makes a mental note to look through his closet, maybe to find
something that Harry would want to take home with him and possibly sleep
in or something.
“I’ve gotta be, haven’t I?” Louis reasons, watching Harry stuff the dirty
items into his backpack that Louis didn't even know he owed , zipping it
back up. Louis begins to tidy up the room, placing the lube back into the
Bible box, fixing his bed, and hiding the Harry Potter book in his own
backpack while watching Harry out of the corner of his eye. Harry pulls his
hoodie on, finds is brown beanie on the floor, yanking it down over his
curls. Louis much prefers the green beanie he wore to school last week. It
makes the green of his eyes pop, complimenting them so they appear even
more devastating. He watches as Harry slings his backpack over his
shoulder, looking at Louis as if to say ‘ready when you are’. Louis smiles at
him, looking so perfect in his room, then leads them out the door and down
the hallway to the stairs. He takes a deep breath, preparing to lie to his
parents as he always does.
“I’m gonna take Harry home. I’ll be back in time for dinner,” Louis
announces as soon as he reaches the landing, wanting to make a quick get
away. The only person he sees is Mark, who hasn’t seemed to move from
his spot on the sofa. Louis can hear his mom in the kitchen, probably
cooking food.
“Alright. Good seeing you again Harry. Thank for tutoring my dumbass
son,” Mark says, barely sparing them a glance.
“It’s not a problem, really,” Harry responds, smiling at the fact that what
they just did was definitely not tutoring. Louis elbows him in the ribs,
attempting to hold in his own smile.
“Okay, see you soon,” Louis says, trying to rush the conversation along, not
wanting to stick around any longer than they have to.
“Bye Harry. Keep him straight,” Mark says, looking up finally, and Louis
almost chokes on air. He knows what Mark meant by the statement. As in,
make sure Louis isn’t breaking any rules and stays on the straight and
narrow path, but holy fucking shit, did he have to use that line? Louis just
stares at him, mouth open.
“I’ll try, sir, but sometimes it’s hard,” Harry replies shooting Louis a smug
smile, and Louis coughs to cover up the choking noise that escapes him at
Harry’s response. Mark laughs, taking it as a joke, prompting Louis to laugh
nervously, and Harry just to smile brightly. That bastard. Louis wants to kill
him. Too bad he may be falling for him, so instead he pushes Harry out the
door.
Chapter End Notes
Alive
Chapter Summary
Harry has a bad day at school, so Louis asks him what he does to relax.
Chapter Notes
There is a lot of college jargon mentioned in this chapter, so if you
have are not from America (or even if you are) and you have
questions, please feel free to ask anything. Here are a few definitions
for you.
FASFA- A federal financial aid application
Loan- Money you take out for school that you have to pay back
Grant- Money the government grants you that you do not have pay
back
Scholarship- Money that an outside organization (sometimes
government funded) that you do not have to pay back but you must
apply for through an outside application
SAT- Standardized entrance exam to get into college. Score range from
400-1600
STEM Field- Careers in the Science, Technology, Engineering and
Math
And I think I can fly
Sunshine upon my face
A new song for me to sing
Tell the world how I feel inside
Even though it might cost me everything
Now that I know this, so beyond, I can't hold this
I can never turn my back away

Now that I've seen you
I can never look away- P.O.D
“Did you bring everything I asked?” Louis questions as soon as he opens

the door to his house one Saturday morning. Harry ignores the question in
favor of stepping inside and out of the cold January weather. He toes off his
shoes as soon as he walks through the door, used to the rules now that he
has been over to Louis’ house a few times.
“Yeah. I had to ask my mom for some of it, so that was weird,” Harry tells
him then freezes. Is Louis wearing glasses? Harry didn’t know Louis wore
glasses or contacts for that matter, but he is standing before him with a pair
of glasses with thick,black, square frames. And well, Harry doesn’t find it
completely fair. It’s a fucking crime is what it is because he looks
devastatingly gorgeous and just the right amount of nerdy to make Harry’s
cock twitch in his jeans. Louis must notice Harry is staring at him with an
open mouth, completely shocked because he clears his throat and uses one
finger to push them up on his nose, as he scrunches it. Harry kind of wants
to die.
“Oh what did she say?” Louis asks as if Harry’s world isn’t falling down
around him just because Louis is wearing glasses. Harry shakes his head,
deciding to save the compliment for another time when they aren’t in Louis’
living room where any one of his family members could be listening. Harry
kind of wants to see what Louis looks like giving him a blow job, looking
up at him under the frames. Holy fuck. He may have to ask for that at a later
time.
“She just asked why and nodded when I told her. Robin helped her find
what we needed, and they gave it to me without another word,” Harry
responds, shrugging. His mom has been around a bit more lately, usually
with Robin, but Harry finds he doesn’t hate it. He just thinks it is strange
and he is also still slightly annoyed with his mom for acting like everything
is peachy during that disastrous dinner. Robin and, by association, his mom,
are making an effort to ask Harry how things are going even though Harry
isn’t all that forthcoming with information. Robin takes it in stride while his
mom seems to get hurt by it. Harry isn’t sure he cares though, too hurt by
everything that has happened between them over the past several years. As
far as he’s concerned, she has dug her own grave, and she can lie in it.
“Great. Mom’s in the office,” Louis says, pointing up stairs where Harry
assumes the office is. He looks around, noticing how quiet it is.
“Where is everyone else?” Harry asks, looking around the deserted and
eerily quiet living room. It is weird, being in Louis’ house without being
surrounded by noise and the excited squeals of the twins.
“Oh, they are at the Church’s youth group. Mark took them,” Louis
answers, looking around the living room himself.
“Why didn’t you go?” Harry smirks with the question, leaning closer to
Louis.
“I had a special guest coming over, so I couldn’t.” Louis smiles, looking up

at Harry with amused eyes behind his glasses. Harry really hopes Louis will
wear his glasses more often. They suit him. If Harry maybe wants to get
them messy with his own come, that is neither here nor there, and it has no
influence on his appreciation of them.
“So we are kind of alone down here?” Harry asks, taking another small step
closer so that their chests are aligning, barely touching. Louis glances
around while Harry’s senses are on high alert, listening for any signs of
Louis’ mother coming down the stairs. “I really like your glasses,” Harry
mummers against Louis lips before he places a gentle kiss there.
“Really?” Louis asks, rearing back so that he can look Harry in the eyes. He
looks so shocked, Harry doesn’t bother covering his chuckle. Harry bites
his bottom lip and nods, before smiling again and leaning down. He kisses
Louis again gently, bringing one hand up to cup his face as he does so, his
thumb stroking the arm of his black frames.
“Yeah. They make you look smart, and they are sexy. I didn’t know you
wore glasses; you should wear them more often.” He doesn’t give Louis a
chance to respond, pulling Louis’ bottom lip between his teeth sucking and
biting down, prompting Louis to moan. Harry’s cock is starting to stir in his
jeans, making him want nothing more than to take Louis up to his room and
ravish him like they’ve done a few times now. Exchanging messy blowjobs
and hand jobs in the privacy of Louis’ room when they are supposed to be
‘studying’, has become the highlight of Harry’s Tuesdays and Thursdays.
“I guess we should find your mom,” Harry whispers against Louis lips,
kissing him one more time. He likes kissing Louis, so sue him. He has just
discovered kissing, and he isn’t about to stop now not when Louis’ taste is
the closest thing he will ever get to heaven. Louis looks up at him, almost
like he is in a trance before he shakes his head as if to clear it. Harry smirks
because, well, it’s kind of nice being able to have this kind of effect on
someone. He has never had this kind of relationship where he felt like he
could touch someone. Harry used to not like being touched, but he doesn’t
mind when Louis does it. Okay maybe he likes it a bit more than ‘doesn’t
mind’, but he’ll never admit it if asked.
“This way,” Louis says, turning towards the stairs and going up them, his
ass swaying with the movement making Harry release a groan. Louis looks
back, smirking, and Harry knows then that the bastard is purposefully
moving his hips in a suggestive manner. Louis will always be able to flirt
better than him, but Harry plans to at least give him a run for his money
now. His New Year’s resolution was to be happy, and Louis makes him
happy.
“Harry! So good to see you!” Jay exclaims when they walk into the room of
what Harry assumes is the office. It is a small room with stacks of papers
everywhere, the walls painted a blueish gray color. Jay is sitting at a dark
mahogany desk with a computer monitor perched on top, reading glasses
sitting on the tip of her nose. She stands up, hugging Harry warmly. Harry
doesn’t even bother to act surprised anymore because he has become so
used to her hugs. Almost every time she sees him, she hugs him at least
once, usually tightly. At first, it was weird because his own mom doesn’t
hug him that often, but he has become accustomed to them now, much like
her son’s touch.
“Thank you for-- um-- helping me out with this. My mom doesn't know
how to do it, and our guidance counselor at school is sh… crap,” Harry
finishes, catching himself before he cussed, blushing a bit but Jay just
smiles. His mind wanders briefly back to the day in his freshman year when
Mrs. Asbury told him that he would be too dumb to go to college due to his
poor grades. He hadn’t quite recovered from everything that had happened,
and his family was falling apart around him therefore his grades had slipped
a bit. He has recovered since then, earning a place in honors classes,
making her eat her words, but the moment has stuck with him all these
years. Sometimes it’s difficult feeling as though no one wants to support
you.
“It’s fine, love. I need to do Louis’ anyways, so yours won't be too difficult.
Lou also found some scholarships you qualify for. We can help you fill out
those applications too, once FASFA has been submitted, that is,” she
explains, and Harry only understands about half what she just said. The
counselor came and spoke to his art class, so he had a very limited
understanding of difference between grants, scholarships, and loans as well
as what FASFA is, but limited is the keyword. He would have never have
been able to fill it out on his own, and Anne wouldn’t have even known
where to start. He could have asked Robin, but they weren’t there yet. They
may never be there, and Louis offered therefore he figured it couldn’t hurt
to get Jay to help them. It also means he gets to spend more time with
Louis.
He wasn’t even going to apply for college, but he and Louis had a long
discussion about it during the last time he was over for ‘tutoring’. Louis
convinced him that there is no harm in applying, even going as far as to tell
Harry the list of colleges Louis is planning to apply to. When Harry had
told him he didn’t even know where to start, Louis had suggested asking
Jay for help, hence why Harry is currently watching her type some numbers
into the computer, occasionally looking down at his mother’s tax papers. He
is kind of embarrassed, Jay now knows exactly how little his mom makes a
year, but he supposes he needs to suck it up if he wants to go to college.
Doing it alone would be difficult, so he is just happy to have her and Louis’
help.
“Okay, FAFSA is done!” Jay announces smiling at Louis and Harry, who
were having a conversation about Liam and whether or not he will have the
balls to ask Cordelia to the prom. Harry is getting anxiety just thinking
about prom. He knows Niall and Louis will want him to go, but he isn’t
sure he wants to. It just doesn't sound like a fun time at all. He has become
used to Willow’s presence, talking to her often. They have a lot in common,
and Harry likes her just fine, it is just really hard to see Louis holding hands
with her around school, fake or not. Harry hasn’t said that to either of them
yet though because it is stupid, and they can’t help what they have to do. He
just pushes it down and reminds himself that it is fake.
“Do you have your personal statements and a copy of your SAT scores?”
Jay asks, looking directly at Harry. Harry swallows, the knots making him
feel sick. College just scares him a lot. He always saw it as a way to get out
of this shithole he calls home, but at the same time he doesn't know how he
will do it alone. He has no support system. His mom, even if she did care,
never went to college, so she knows just as little as him. He would be pretty
much alone which he should be used to by now. He is used to being alone in
this town, a town that he knows, but being alone in a new place sounds
daunting. He knows he must though, or he will be stuck here. That is not an
option.
“Um-- Yeah. I can email it to you, and here is a copy of the scores” Harry
responds, handing her a piece of paper after blinking a few times,
attempting to get his head in order. He has to do this. This is the only way to
change the circumstances of his current existence. He doesn't want to
wonder where his next meal is coming from for the rest of his life, and he
doesn’t want that for his future family for that matter, if anyone would have
him that is. He has to do this regardless of his fears.
“Harry. You got a 1350! I’m so proud of you! Why didn’t you tell me you
got a 1350?!? Holy sh…” Louis’ sentence trails off when Jay glares at him
as he pulls the paper from Harry’s hands, staring at the number. They had
taken it a month ago, when their high school paid for every student in
honors class to take the standardized exam, all of them getting on a bus at
fuck-this-o’clock to go and take it. When Louis asked what his scores were
a few weeks later, Harry said ‘pretty good’ and changed the subject. Louis
didn’t push, and Harry had kind of forgotten that he never told Louis is
actual score.
“Yeah. Umm-- sorry I didn’t tell you,” Harry says, and he can feel the blush
rising in his cheeks, his ears feeling hot with the praise. He glances over at
Jay who is smiling at him, laughing at her son who looks like he wants to
burst with pride. His glasses are askew on his face just the tiniest bit,
looking adorable pressed against his freckled cheek. Harry can tell that
Louis wants to kiss him in that moment, his tongue coming out to wet his
lips, but instead he just beams, lighting up the whole room with his
happiness. Happiness over Harry’s success.
“It is a very good score, Harry. Congratulations. It’s amazing really. Go

ahead and email me your personal statement,” Jay cuts in, watching with
blue eyes as he pulls out his phone and forwards them to the email Jay
provides. A moment later, he hears the computer ding, and she goes to open
it. He looks down at his feet, knowing she is about to read it. She will
probably think it’s shit. He had no idea how to write a personal statement,
so he just explained why he wanted to go to college in it.
“Harry, this is really good.” She smiles at him, then begins asking him a
few questions as she fills out applications to his and Louis’ chosen colleges.
He almost feels like he is being interviewed by her in some way, but she
doesn’t delve too deeply nor does she comment on his mom’s income.
Harry decides he likes Jay. She is warm, caring, and so very kind which
isn’t all that surprising since her son has similar attributes. He wonders why
she is even with someone like Mark. They just seem like the total opposite,
then again, sometimes he feels like he and Louis are opposites.
“Okay, you guys have officially applied to every school on your list. Harry,
Louis found some scholarships we both think would be perfect for you and
your interests. Come over here and take a look at them with me, see which
ones you may want to apply for,” she says, patting the chair beside her, but
Harry stopped listening after the words ‘Louis found some scholarships’.
It’s not the first time she has eluded that Louis researched scholarships
alone for Harry, as if she had nothing to do with finding them. Harry
glances over at Louis, who is decidedly not looking him, finding his bare
feet quite interesting, his cheeks pink.
“Alright,” Harry responds, snapping out of it and gets up slowly. He goes to
sit beside Jay, putting his chin on his hand as she clicks through several
tabs, showing him each scholarship. Most are for high school students of
low socioeconomic status who excel and have an interest in the STEM
fields. Louis is correct, those demographics apply to Harry. Suddenly this
all seems like a lot, and it all feels very overwhelming. He tries to push
down his panic as he and Jay start filling out some of the scholarship
applications, tweaking his personal statement to fit what they are looking
for. At some point, Louis drags his chair over to come sit beside Harry,
offering input and placing his hand on Harry’s knee when Jay isn’t paying
attention, as if he can sense Harry’s anxiety.
“So do you and Lou wanna go to the same college?” She asks after what
feels like hours, hitting submit on the final scholarship application, then
looking at them with an odd expression. Harry glances at Louis, rubbing his
now sweaty palms down his jeans, not really knowing how to answer. He
has been wanting the same answer, but has never actually asked. If he’s
honest with himself, he has been too scared to even bring it up, afraid
Louis’ response would be something along the lines of ‘This is great for
now, Harry, but you know I will have to settle down with a girl eventually. I
can’t keep this from my parents forever, and I don’t want to piss God off.’
“Yeah. We’d like to go together, I’d say. Don’t know what I would do
without him,” Louis answers, cold hand coming up to pat Harry on the back
with a smile playing on his face, but Harry’s heart has decided to stop
working while his entire musculoskeletal system is frozen. Did Louis just
say he wants to go to college with him? Holy shit. Suddenly all of Harry’s
anxiety about this melts away because if Louis is with him, maybe he will
be okay. Louis will be supportive, and so will Niall. Maybe with them,
Harry won’t feel so lost or alone. He doesn't feel as lonely anymore as it is,
not when Louis is just a message away. Sure, he still has moments deep in
the night when he only has the shadows on his wall to keep him company,
but then he remembers he will get to see Louis the next day and suddenly it
doesn’t seem that bad.
“Same,” Harry agrees, glancing towards Louis giving him a small smile,
which Louis returns.
__________
“Tommo!” Louis hears a yell from down the hall, prompting him to turn
around towards whoever is calling him. He knows it has to be one of the
football players since that is what they normally call him. Even Liam refers
to him that way when they are hanging out in a group, which rarely happens
anymore since Louis tends to spend his free time with Harry when he can.
He doesn’t even eat lunch with them anymore, preferring to sit with Harry,
Niall, Willow, Tara, and Liam. He never even bothered to invite them to his
table, knowing it would make Harry extremely uncomfortable.
“Oh hey, Travis,” Louis greets, but he can feel Harry stiffen beside him. He
doesn’t even have to look at Harry, knowing he is tense just from the other
boys coming towards them in the hallway. He really wants to reach out and
hold his hand, but that would probably make things worse therefore he
settles for a reassuring smile. They were just walking from Choir to
Chemistry together like they always do, chatting with Liam and Niall about
whatever random thing Niall decided to comment on.
“I’m having a party at my place on Friday, you three are invited,” Travis
tells them, pointing to Louis, Niall and Liam, completely ignoring Harry’s
presence. Louis feels anger flood his system, having the sudden desire to
punch Travis squarely on the nose. The guy is a moron, barely capable of
counting to ten on a good day, so the world wouldn’t be at a loss if he
suffered losing a few brain cells from a fist to the face.
“What about Haz?” Louis asks, gesturing in Harry’s direction, giving Travis
a chance to not be a fucking prick. Harry is now looking down at his feet,
scratching at his arm in the same spot Louis now knows there are scars.
Louis feels sick, not knowing what Harry is thinking at that moment. If
Travis fucking ruins everything that Louis has worked so hard to build in
Harry, he may actually strangle the dickwad.
“Harry? Fuck no. I don’t want a freak at my party,” Travis spits, looking
Harry up and down as if he is the most disgusting person on Earth, and
Louis sees red. The rage in his chest is threatening to strangle him, feeling
as though it is coming out of every pore in his body, making him feel like a
volcano that is about to erupt.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Louis asks, putting venom in his
tone this time, stepping closer to Travis. He hears Harry murmur his name,
but it doesn’t register. He is too busy fuming and staring the prick down.
“Exactly what I said, Tommo. You need to clean your ears out or somethin’.
He’s a fucking freak, and I don’t want him anywhere near my house,”
Travis says, his southern drawl grating on Louis’ ears. Louis is shaking with
rage, wanting nothing more than to kill someone or something. He glances
around, seeing that a small crowd of student’s have gathered including
Willow and Tara, their harsh tones gaining their attention. Some are just
watching while others are pointing and whispering. This will probably get
back to his parents, but he can’t find a fuck to give because someone is
being mean to Harry. The need to protect the other boy outweighs any fear
he has of Mark, which is shocking, but he will think about that realization
another day. Right now, he is about to punch this shitstick’s lights out.
“You have about three fucking seconds to apologize to him,” Louis

threatens, pointing at Harry with the statement, but not taking his eyes off
of the fuckwit in front him, watching as Travis’ large nostrils flare. He
ignores Niall’s ‘come on, Lou. He’s not worth it’ in favor of staring
daggers, not backing down to some close minded redneck dickhead. It’s
people like him that have made Harry so untrusting. He doesn't know
Harry’s whole story, but this useless excuse of a human being certainly adds
to it. That fact alone only serves to foster the already overcoming desire to
rearrange his face into something probably far more appealing using his
fist. Travis takes a step towards him, the larger boy towering over Louis,
but Louis doesn’t care. The guy could be three hundred and one pounds,
and thirteen feet tall, and Louis would still be standing there, glaring at him.
“Not a snowflake's chance in hell of that happening. I don’t talk to freaks,

unlike you. You seem to love hangin’ out with them. You’re better than
him. Is he some charity case or somethin’? Doing it as volunteer work to
get into college? I think a church would be a better choice. Then you
wouldn’t have to wash your clothes all the time to get the smell of freak off
of ya,” Travis says, looking around at the boys with him, laughing,
prompting them all to do the same, the sound just stoking the fire running
through Louis’ veins. Louis can’t stop himself, he lunges at the other boy,
ready to tackle him to the ground and beat the shit out of him, but he is
stopped by a set of firm arms wrapped around his torso, effectively
restraining him.
“Travis why don’t you do us all a favor and fuck off. Nobody gives a shit
about your small minded opinion. Harry is our friend, and we don’t give a
fuck if you like that or not. Go to class. Open a book. Learn something for
once in your fucking life,” Liam says, stepping up to Travis in place of
Louis. He would kiss Liam for his words, but he is too busy fighting the
hold on him. He thinks it is Niall because whoever it is roughly the same
height as him, and he would recognize Harry’s arms around him anywhere.
He just wants to get loose and acquaint his fist with Travis’ face, regardless
of the consequences. His whole body is shaking as he fights to get free, but
Niall’s grip is firm and unrelenting. He thinks he is saying something in his
ear, but all he can hear is the sound of his own blood rushing past.
“This ain’t over,” Travis says after a few moments, turning and walking
down the hallway, his friends following him. Louis really wants to go after
him but is distracted by Harry hurrying in the opposite direction towards the
back stairway. He barely gets a glimpse of Harry’s crestfallen face as he
vanishes into the slowly dispersing crowd. Louis’ heart breaks, an intense
desire to follow Harry washing over him, calming his anger. Louis fights
again, this time to follow Harry because he can’t let Harry be alone after
this. He just can’t.
“Let me go, Ni. I just wanna go after Harry. Please,” Louis begs, stopping
his fighting. The bell for class has now rang, so they are the only three left
in the hallway. He thinks he knows where Harry has gone, he just has to get
to him, and he can’t do that with Niall holding him. Liam is looking at him
curiously, probably wondering why he is reacting this way to his friend
being bullied, but Louis doesn’t care. He needs to get to Harry. He will tell
Liam everything right now if it means he can just find Harry and comfort
him. Harry needs him, and Louis feels like he may actually start crying if he
doesn't get to him soon. He can’t let Harry be alone again. Not when this
just happened. Not when he is this upset. A pain stabs through Louis’ chest
at the mere thought.
He sighs when Niall releases him, patting him on the back. He doesn’t even
bother to answer Liam’s confused question as he takes off into a sprint
down the hallway in the direction Harry had went just moments ago. He
gets to the back stairwell in record time, only to be met with sobs coming
from under the stairs hauntingly echoing around him, making his heart
shatter. He allows the door to shut quietly as he carefully makes his way
under the darkened stairway, trying to keep his steps soft, not wanting to
scare Harry.
He creeps under, towards the source of the heart wrenching sounds, only
hearing those and the sound of blood rushing to his ears. His eyes sting with
his own tears when he makes out Harry curled up in the fetal position on the
cold floor of the dark stairwell, his body shaking more with each sharp
inhale of breath. Louis immediately notices his breathing pattern is off, each
inhale and exhale coming in short, sharp pants. When Louis realizes it is
getting worse, almost to full blown hyperventilating, he decides to speak.
“Baby, are you okay?” His voice is soft, cracking with his own emotion,
barely carrying over the sounds coming from Harry. It is a stupid question,
and Harry doesn’t answer right away, however Louis has the feeling Harry
knows he is there.
Louis carefully walks up to him. He doesn't know if he should touch him

given that Harry didn’t like to be touched at first, but he also feels like if he
doesn’t touch him he may break himself. He needs to. He needs to comfort
Harry because seeing him like this is making bile rise in Louis’ throat, and
it feels as if the jaws of life are crushing his heart. He decides to lay down
behind him on the cold, hard floor, wrapping an arm around his torso and
stroking his hair. “Please. Go away. I don’t want you to see me like this,”
Harry begs between pants, each word coming out on an sharp exhale. Louis
can barely hear the plea, it is said so weakly, but he tightens his grip around
Harry.
“No, baby. I’m not leaving you like this,” Louis replies simply, snaking his
hand up Harry’s shirt, bringing it up to his racing heart. He rubs over it,
feeling his chest rise and fall too quickly to be safe or normal. Harry is full
on hyperventilating now, and Louis is so fucking scared. He doesn’t know
what to do. He has never seen this happen to someone before. It’s
heartbreaking just watching it happen, and he can’t imagine how Harry is
feeling right now.
“You’ll get in trouble for missing class,” Harry replies between breaths, the
sentences coming out choppy and barely decipherable. Louis doesn't
fucking care if he gets in trouble, and it is absurd to him that Harry thinks
he will, however now is not the time to say that. Right now he needs to get
Harry to breathe and possibly calm down a little bit. He squeezes Harry
tight to his chest, feeling Harry’s body shaking around him, each hard sob
pulling them further into the corner of the stairwell towards the wall Harry
is currently facing. He can’t see his face, the area too dark and currently
being covered with his curls, so Louis reaches a tentative had down to pull
the dark hair off of his sweaty forehead, to find that his hands are also
covering his face too, probably making it that much harder for him to
breathe.
“Baby, don’t worry about that. Right now, I need you to breathe, okay? Try
to match your breaths to mine,” Louis suggests, aligning his chest with
Harry’s back, breathing deeply. Harry either ignores him, or can’t
physically make himself to do it because his sobs are getting louder, each
one coming out as almost a hiccup now. Louis has never felt so helpless in
his entire life, not knowing what to do to help Harry. Is this what a panic
attack is? He has never seen one in person, but he thinks this may be one.
He searches his brain for anything he knows about it, trying not to panic
himself. He can’t panic. Harry needs him to be calm right now.
“Please,” Harry begs pathetically, and Louis isn’t sure what he is begging
for. Maybe it is for Louis to leave him alone, but there is no chance of that
happening. Maybe it is for Louis to help him, Louis just doesn't know how.
He’s powerless, and the feeling makes him want to tear his fucking hair out.
He has half a mind to find Travis and make him pay for this, but Louis has a
suspicion that this isn’t just about Travis. Regardless, Louis wants to take
the pain away from Harry. Harry who is so beautifully broken. Louis has
the urge to squeeze him until he somehow manages to put the crumbled
pieces of Harry’s soul back together, so he does. He squeezes him tighter,
wanting to let the other boy know that he is here for him. Someone is here
for him.
“Calm down for me, love. I don’t want you to pass out,” Louis soothes,
deciding he needs to get Harry off the floor. He sits up, placing his back
against the concrete wall and pulls Harry until he is laying in the cradle of
Louis’ legs, large hands still covering his face as if he doesn’t want Louis to
see him. Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s chest and arms rocking him
back and forth, one hand stroking Harry’s arm, the other coming up to run
through his hair. Harry’s breaths are still coming out too quickly, whole
body shaking as he puts his full weight on Louis, but Louis doesn't care. At
least, Harry is giving him something. He will take whatever Harry will let
him have, even if it isn’t some of his pain.
“Can’t. Breathe.” Louis makes out under Harry’s broken muttered phrases
‘please’, ‘just go’, and ‘I’m sorry’ that are currently being muffled by his
hands. Louis hasn’t listened to a single one of the others because he isn’t
leaving Harry like this. He won’t. He can’t physically make himself. Harry
is too broken to be alone. Louis wont allow him to be alone anymore, but
his most recent words slice though Louis like a knife, cold fear flooding his
veins. Fuck. Harry has asthma. What if this is more than a panic attack?
Louis tries to keep himself calm, wracking his brain again for some kind of
information about panic attacks. He thinks he remembers some random post
on a social media sight that someone had shared about them. What did it
say? Oh yeah.
“Harry, baby, I need you try to calm down. Tell me what you hear,” Louis
starts, deciding that maybe a distraction would work. He continues to rock
Harry gently even though he is still tense, like he is afraid if he lets himself
relax, his body will literally shatter into a million pieces. It may for all
Louis knows, but he also knows that he will work diligently to put the
pieces back together until Harry is whole again. Louis swallows silently
begging Harry to answer his question.
“Your voice,” Harry responds finally, the words coming out a whimper.
Good. He is at least listening to Louis now, forming whole words and
sentences. His body is still so tense, Louis can barely rock them, but he
continues to do so.
“Good. What else?” Louis asks feeling hope lace though his system at
Harry’s reply.
“Your shirt rubbing against the wall,” Harry answers again, voice still
muffled but stronger this time. Louis snakes one hand under Harry’s shirt,
tracing his belly button, hoping the skin on skin contact will help. Harry’s
skin is hot to the touch, damp with sweat, but Louis doesn’t care. He is just
happy to be touching him, and Harry didn’t pull away. Maybe Harry trusts
him more than either of them wants to admit. Louis would almost bet that
nobody else has witnessed Harry is such a fragile state.
“Okay, baby, what do you see?” Louis reaches around, pulling Harry’s
hands from his face with his free hand. Harry fights him at first, shaking his
head against Louis’ shirt, but Louis doesn't relent. Finally Harry drops his
hand, his gaze still looking down. Louis’ breath hitches in his throat. From
his angle, he can make out Harry’s face is red and blotchy, wet with his
tears and snot. The sight before him hurts Louis’ chest, and he has a fierce
need to protect overpowering all others. Louis swallows, knowing he needs
to keep a level head. He can’t fall a part when Harry needs him to be strong.
If his heart breaks just a little bit at the sight in front of him, then no one
needs to know. He just never wants to see Harry likes this again.
“The stairs,” Harry murmurs, his breathing finally starting to regulate.

Louis can feel Harry’s heartbeat against his own chest, the consistent
thumps coming slower now. He allows himself a sigh of relief, finally. He
doesn't think that they are out of the woods yet from a relapse, but Harry
seems to be finally calming down.
“Anything else?”
“Your feet and legs.”
“What do you feel?”

“Your hands. Your heart beat. You.” His voice is steadier now, and Louis
smiles, so glad that Harry is coming back to him.
“What do you smell?”
“Nothin’ ‘cause my nose is stopped up,” Harry says, sniffling dramatically,

southern drawl coming out in his speech pattern due to his current state of
upset. Louis can’t help it. He laughs. He knows it was a dumb question to
begin with, but Harry’s response was just so… Harry. He laughs more when
he hears Harry’s own chuckle, squeezing him tighter to his chest, never
wanting to let him go.
“I’m sorry, Lou,” Harry says once their laughter has died down. He hasn’t
looked at Louis yet, instead choosing to stare at Louis’ legs and his feet,
their shoes couldn’t be more different. Louis wearing a pair of VANS with
no socks, despite the cold, and Harry wearing black boots.
“For?” Louis asks because he is so fucking confused. He has no idea why

Harry is apologizing to him. He should be apologizing to Harry for Travis’
behavior. He by no means ever labeled that dickhead as a friend, but he has
still hung out with him a few times. He had no idea he was that bad of a
person, but Louis supposes people can shock you. He just hopes Travis
doesn't plan on playing baseball in a few months, knowing he won’t be able
to keep his mouth shut around him.
“This,” Harry says gesturing to himself as if it’s obvious.
“No need to apologize, love. Seriously. It’s okay. That’s what I’m here for. I
don’t want you to be alone when shit like this happens. I want you to trust
me when it comes to this. You just scared me, is all,” Louis replies, moving
Harry so that he is face to face with him. It may not have been the most
eloquent thing to say, but he hopes he got his point across. Harry still isn’t
making eye contact, looking down fiddling with the neckline on Louis’ t-
shirt.
“I-- It’s just that nobody has ever seen me that way before.” Louis doesn't
know what to say. Harry’s words imply that he has had a panic attack
before. Alone. Probably in his room. Louis’ eyes sting with tears and his
heart feels like it has stopped beating at the thought of Harry going through
that alone. Fuck. Just the thought makes his stomach roll uncomfortably and
the stabbing pain in his chest intensifies. He makes a promise to himself
that Harry will never go through it alone again if he can help it.
“Does it happen a lot?” Louis asks hesitantly, not sure if he really wants to
know the answer. Harry shakes his head, gaze finally coming up to land on
Louis’ eyes. Harry’s own are red brimmed, fat tears still leaking down his
face as if he can’t stop them. Louis brings one hand up to wipe them away
with his thumb. Harry is achingly beautiful even when he is broken. An
angel that has fallen from grace. It hurts Louis’ soul to even look at him, but
he can’t seem to look away, like the moon eclipsing the sun. He doesn't
think Harry is bad for his health though, maybe just his salvation.
“Not as much anymore. This is the first time since-- um…” Harry sentence
trails off, seeming to not want to say whatever it is that is on the tip of his
tongue. “Since um-- October,” Harry finishes, and Louis suddenly
understands why Harry didn’t want to complete his thought. The last time
this happened was Louis’ fault. Louis wants to bang his head against the
wall behind him, guilt gnawing at his insides. Fuck. He has been the cause
of this. Harry was probably alone when it happened, too. Louis kind of
hates himself at that moment. He already hates what he did, not talking to
Harry about it first, but this makes him truly hate himself. Harry doesn’t
deserve this. Louis is a terrible person for ever causing Harry that kind of
pain to where the panic literally takes him over.
“I’m sorry. I-- I’m so sorry, Harry.” Louis’ voice cracks with his name,
bringing his hand up to wipe away Harry’s tears once more. He doesn't
know what else to say. He feels terrible about what happened, and he has
apologized to Harry countless times, however, it doesn’t excuse his
behavior.
“Don’t, Lou. That’s all in the past. Thank you for helping me now though.
That is the quickest I have ever gotten past one, I think. I’m not sure
though, because time normally kind of feels warped when it’s happening,”
Harry says, placing a warm hand on Louis’ arm, eyes large and honest. An
overwhelming feeling envelopes Louis then, one that he doesn't have a
word for nor does he know what it means. It just feels like a warmess has
taken over his essence, threatening to break free of his chest and bathe the
darkness in light, but it is painful at the same time, making him not want to
inhale.
“What do you say we get out of here?” Louis asks, looking around the
empty stairwell. When Harry looks confused, he clarifies, “Like out of
school. Skip.”
“What do you wanna do?” Harry asks, a small smile playing on his features,
seemingly keen on the idea.
“I don’t know, what do you normally do after this?” Louis asks, with a
shrug wanting to do whatever it is that would making Harry feel better.
“Are you sure you wanna know?” Harry ask, lips in a full blown smirk, and
Louis kind of wants to kiss him. He doesn’t, instead he just nods. “Let’s get
out of here.” Harry gets up, taking Louis by the hand to pull him up as well.
Louis has no idea what they are doing, but he knows he would follow Harry
anywhere.
__________
“So I just inhale?” Louis asks, looking at the glass bowl with a wary
expression, as if he doesn’t trust it. Harry chuckles, nodding his head. They
are sitting in his room, cross legged on his small bed facing each other,
Louis holding a glass bowl full of weed in his hand.
“You really don’t have to do it if you don’t want. You asked what makes me
feel better after I have a panic attack, and my answer is this,” Harry says,
gesturing to the pipe. He wants Louis to know that he isn’t pressuring him
or anything. It is his decision, just like Harry knew Louis wasn’t pressuring
him into sex or anything like that. If Louis does this, it’s because he wants
to, not because Harry is forcing him to.
“Isn’t it dangerous? Like isn’t it a gateway drug or something?” Louis
questions, looking at Harry skeptically then back down at the item,
examining it. Harry almost starts laughing before he realizes Louis is
completely serious about the question. What the fuck? Doesn’t Louis do
any research for himself at all? Does he always believe everything he is told
without questioning any of it? The answer seems to be ‘yes’, and Harry
hopes, if he does nothing else for Louis, he can get Louis to start
questioning things more.
“No. It’s a natural plant that grows from the ground. It is no more
dangerous than alcohol or cigarettes. In fact, I would say it is less dangerous
than both. No one has ever OD’d on it, and nobody I know has ever gone
on to try other drugs. That gateway stuff is bullshit,” Harry finishes,
approaching it with logic, as he does most things. “I mean, think about it,
do you think it is more dangerous than some of the other shit that is legal to
use like opioids which are highly addictive. Marijuana isn’t even addictive.”
“Okay. What do I do?” Louis asks after a few moments, seeming to come to
a decision. Harry smiles at him, happy that Louis has decided that Harry is
telling the truth. He thinks Louis will probably go home to research it more
on his own, like Louis seems to do with all other conversations that force
critical thinking. Harry is actually glad for that. He doesn’t see it as Louis
not believing him, moreso Louis seeking out his own explanations which is
exactly what Harry wants.
“Want me to do it first?” Harry asks. When Louis nods, he takes the pipe
from Louis’ hand. Using a lighter, her expertly lights the green inside,
inhaling while doing so. The smoke burns his esophagus as it makes its way
to his lungs. He holds the smoke for a few seconds before he exhales, a
whitish gray cloud forming around his head. He hands it to Louis, and
Louis mimics his action, coughing as soon as the smoke is in his lungs, eyes
watering as he hands it back to Harry.
“This isn’t so bad,” Louis says after a few passes, coughing from another
hit. Harry goes and gets him a glass of chocolate milk, knowing that it helps
soothe the burning during your first time, so Louis takes a drink after his
coughing fit seems to have subsided.
“Yeah? I don’t think so either,” Harry responds, taking the piece from
Louis, inhaling deeply, enjoying the feeling of the harsh smoke burning his
lungs before he exhales. He already feels a bit more relaxed, his brain
beginning to get fuzzy. He decides they need a bit of music, so he uses his
phone to find something on the mellow side, the slow music flowing
through the room like the smoke from their lungs.
“Yeah. It makes me feel like a dragon.” Louis then emphasizes the

statement by letting the smoke blow through this nose instead of his mouth.
Harry laughs because he doesn’t look like a dragon at all, but it’s adorable
all the same.
“You look more like a hedgehog who found a pack of cigarettes,” Harry
responds, giggling at the look of offence on Louis’ face, making him look
like a grumpy hedgehog now. “Lucky for you, I think hedgehogs are very
cute.” Harry leans in, placing a kiss on Louis’ lips. When he pulls back,
Louis is trying desperately to keep the look of offence on his face, but
Harry can see the corners of his mouth twitching threatening a smile. By the
time he is done with another hit, Louis is giggling.
“You’re a dick,” Louis says through his laughter, prompting Harry to smile.
Harry loves when Louis laughs and smiles, the way his eyes crinkle at the
corners, his mouth shaping a perfect half moon. His teeth are white and
straight, and he is simply beautiful, happiness radiating from every
available surface, bathing the room in a light that only Louis can produce.
“Yeah, but I’m your dick,” Harry shrugs, grinning wide with his innuendo.
He has gotten a lot better at them since the day in the park after all. He still
can’t really compete with Louis, but he is getting there. By the time all of
the green in the bowl is converted into gray ash, they are both feeling the
effects. Harry’s limbs feel heavy, and it feels like his brain is working at
only half speed, making him sleepy. He grabs Louis, pushing him down on
the bed, then lays beside him once he places the pipe on the bedside table
beside Louis’ phone.
“This song feels like it’s been on forever. How long has it been on?” Louis
asks, eyes slightly glassy. Harry looks at his phone to see the time stamp on
the song.
“One minute and forty three seconds,” Harry answers, laying his phone
back down chuckling at Louis’ surprised noise. He grabs Louis’ hand
intertwining their fingers, wanting to touch him in some way, loving the
feeling of Louis’ much smaller hand in his own.
“You know,” Louis starts, and Harry knows that look. Louis is going to
bring up religion. Harry tries to focus on Louis, on the question he is about
to ask. Harry kind of loves talking about religion when he is stoned, making
the topic seem less personal somehow. He waits for Louis to continue. It is
taking a bit longer for him to get his thoughts in order, which isn’t
surprising given their current state. Hell, it may not even be taking longer, it
just may feel longer to Harry. “Wouldn’t it be safe for you to believe in
God?”
“What do you mean?” Harry asks, genuinely confused by Louis’ question.

He isn’t sure if it is because his brain is somewhat fuzzy, or if the question
really makes no sense. He watches as Louis diverts his eyes, probably
thinking of a way to rephrase in order for it to make sense to Harry. It’s
cute, and Harry wants to kiss him. He doesn’t because that would be a
distraction, and he really wants to know what Louis has to say.
“Like-- wouldn’t you rather be safe than sorry? You may as well believe in
him and worship him in case he does exist so that he may save your soul,”
Louis reasons bringing his free hand up to cradle his own head under their
shared pillow. Harry understands now and isn’t surprised by the argument at
all. He has heard it so many times before, it is ridiculous really.
“Louis, there are thousands of other Gods that people believe in. By that
logic, you should believe and worship every single one of them to be safe
rather than sorry,” Harry responds after a few seconds of getting his
thoughts in order. He could start naming a bunch of Gods, but he doesn't
want to confuse Louis with too much information, especially if it is trivial.
Louis is aware of the belief in other Gods, however Harry has the sneaking
suspicion he doesn't know exactly how many.
“So you’re telling me two billion Christians are wrong?” Louis counters,
obviously skeptical, and Harry is surprised by the number. Louis seems to
have done his research on this. Harry wonders how long Louis has wanted
to bring it up
“You’re telling me that the other third of the world, that aren’t Christian, are
wrong? There are more people in the world that don’t believe in the
Christian God than there are who do,” Harry points out, gazing into Louis’
eyes waiting to see his reaction to that.
“I’ve never really thought about it that way.” Louis looks shocked, pink lips
hanging open just a tiny bit in surprise. Harry smiles, glad he made Louis
see it a different way. His goal has always been to get Louis to think
critically about these types of things and not just believe whatever is fed to
him by his family and his church. If he becomes an atheist while learning to
think from a different perspective, that will just be icing on the cake.
“I also don’t want to worship a God just in case, especially if this God
doesn’t accept me and thinks there is something inherently wrong with me,
even though I was supposedly made in his image,” Harry reasons, hoping
he didn’t overstep some invisible line with Louis. He has been waiting for
the right moment to say it, wanting Louis to see the error in that belief.
“We were made in his image,” Louis informs, but he seems to be thinking
about something else.
“If that were the case, then why would he make me and you attracted to one
another, then say it is wrong?” Harry tries to be delicate with the way he
phrases his point, not wanting Louis to freak if he says the word ‘gay’. He
has noticed that Louis never says it, but he isn’t sure why. He thinks it may
be simply because he is still struggling with accepting that part of himself.
Harry wants to help him accept it, though. He doesn't want Louis to think
there is anything wrong with him or his attraction to the same sex. His
attraction to Harry.
“But that’s where free will comes into play,” Louis says after a few
moments, seeming to get what Harry was trying to say even though he
didn’t use the word.
“Ah. Yes. Free Will. That doesn’t make any sense though. Like the very
idea is a contradiction to other beliefs Christians have. When something bad
happens, what is the very first thing Christians say as a way of comforting
the person?” Harry asks, watching the cogs turn in Louis’ head as he thinks
of an answer.
“It’s all in God’s plan,” he says finally, biting his lip, probably seeing
Harry’s point already. Harry is still going to explain.
“Exactly. If God has a plan, then how is it free will? He is basically

damning people before they are even born. Deciding that person will be a
sinner, according to his plan, of course, then there is nothing that person can
do to be saved because God has already planned that they won’t be. Does
that makes sense?” Harry asks, hoping he is able to articulate his thoughts
in a way Louis will be able to understand even though they are both
currently high as a kite.
“But if we have free will, then we choose to sin and therefore choose to go
to hell for the consequences of our behavior,” Louis says, eyes lighting up
as if it is a fair point, but Harry is already shaking his head before Louis has
half the sentence out.
“You can’t have it both ways. Either we have free will and can make our
own decision, or God had a plan for us all along. If it is the former, then he
isn’t all knowing or all powerful, and if it is the latter, then he is damning us
for his own plan, so there isn’t any point in following his rules.” Harry
waits for Louis to process his words. The longer it takes the more Harry is
worried that he has taken things too far this time with Louis being in his
current state. Louis looks so lost, it almost hurts Harry’s heart. Harry has
the sudden desire to help Louis find his way home. Find his way to Harry.
“Baby, are you okay?”
“Yeah. I’m just-- I’m confused,” Louis says, eyes snapping back to Harry’s,
his neck bobbing with his swallow. Harry tightens his grip on Louis’ hand,
smiling when Louis squeezes back. It feels somewhat reassuring, and Harry
isn’t sure why. Maybe it shows that Louis isn’t mad at him, or that he is
okay.
“It’s okay to be confused, love. It is also okay to ask questions. You can ask
me any questions you want, anytime you want to. I don’t care if it is day or
night,” Harry tells him, getting closer to Louis so that he can kiss his
forehead.
“I know,” Louis responds, tilting his face up so that he can kiss Harry’s lips.
Harry wraps his arms around Louis’ body, pulling it towards his own as he
returns the kiss easily, now used to the familiar taste of Louis’ lips. A taste
that Harry doesn’t ever want to forget or go without. If Louis ever decides
that being gay is a choice, then Harry is completely fucked because he is
falling for the boy in his arms. The boy that worked so hard to break down
Harry’s walls and taught Harry to be happy again.
Things get heated between them quickly, Louis clumsily removing Harry’s
shirt first, then pulling his own over his head before attacking Harry’s lips
again. Every touch feels amplified due to the marijuana running through his
system, each sense feeling as though it is on high alert. He feels hyper
aware of every single touch, caress and kiss Louis lays on his skin, making
it tingle under his touch. His cock is impossibly hard, just wanting to be
inside Louis in some way. Harry helps Louis take of his own pants and
underwear, then goes to remove Louis’ too, wanting to take advantage of
their rare alone time.
“Fuck. Haz, please,” Louis mummers into Harry’s mouth, his voice high
and needy, making another jolt of pleasure run through his body and into
his cock and balls. Harry breaks their kiss long enough to grab the lube and
a condom from his bedside drawer. He doesn’t bother hiding it. His mom
hasn’t came into his room in years, so he isn’t too concerned that she will
find it. Even if she did, she probably wouldn’t care, glad that he is
practicing safe sex and not out getting girls pregnant since he is such a
menace. She probably hasn’t even considered that Harry may prefer boys.
A few seconds later, Harry is pushing his lubed index finger past Louis’
tight ring of muscle, kissing his nose and freckles as he does so, listening to
Louis moan. Harry will never get used to this, the feeling of Louis’ tight
heat around his appendages. Harry wastes no time adding a second finger
alongside the first, now being able to recognize Louis’ moans for when he
wants more. He is shocked by this, having never thought he would get to
the point in any relationship where he would recognize non-verbal cues
with his partner.
“What do you want, love?” Harry asks, kissing Louis’ lips again, pulling
the bottom one between his teeth has he pulls away. Louis’ hands come up
to fist Harry’s hair when Harry adds a third finger, stretching Louis around
him. He has been careful to miss Louis’ spot, also avoiding his balls and
cock, not wanting Louis to come too soon. Harry should also be worried
about himself though because he is still fairly inexperienced, and his
stamina isn’t that great yet. He already feels on the verge of exploding, and
he has barely been touched.
“I wanna ride you,” Louis answers, his voice gravelly, and Harry almost
chokes on air. Louis wants to ride him? Holy fucking hell. Harry was not
ready for that answer. Not even a little bit. Louis doesn’t give him time to
even process the request, grabbing the condom, opening it, then rolling it
down Harry’s shaft causing Harry to moan and bite his lip, trying to stop his
quickly approaching orgasm. Louis puts more lube onto Harry’s cock
before he straddles Harry’s hips on the small bed. Harry suddenly gets a
flashback to Christmas Eve night when Louis rode his fingers. If Louis
rides his cock half as well, then Harry is well and truly fucked. He won’t
last.
“Fuck. Louis.” Harry hisses when Louis lines himself up, slowly sinking
down onto his cock. Once Louis is seated, Harry’s eyes roll back into his
head, the feeling of Louis’ tight heat wrapped around him. Louis is
overwhelming all of his senses that are in overdrive from the weed. His
limbs feel heavy, but at the same time he wants to fuck up into Louis. He
doesn’t though, wanting to give Louis time to adjust to him. It’s not like
they have had a tonne of opportunities to have sex.
“Oh my god, Harry, you feel so fucking good,” Louis voices, beginning to
move his hips in small circles sending jolts of pleasure down Harry’s spine
and straight into his tight balls. Harry isn’t sure if it’s the weed or Louis’
affects on him, but he feels as though he is floating. He needs something to
hang on to in order to anchor him to the very Earth, so he places his hands
on Louis hips, his ringed fingers digging into the meaty flesh of Louis’ ass.
Louis moans in response, placing both small hands on Harry’s chest using it
to gain leverage and increase his momentum. Harry can feel Louis pressing
him into the mattress, almost feeling as though Louis is holding him down.
He kinda likes the feeling, somehow turning him on even more. He is
enjoying the view of Louis hovering over him, his brown hair falling into
his blue eyes every other time his hips come off Harry’s own.
“Holy shit, Louis. Fuck,” Harry moans out, removing a hand long enough
to push Louis’ hair out of his eyes, tucking it behind his ear, then quickly
brings it back down to it’s resting place on his ass, squeezing again. Louis
changes his angle, almost pulling completely off Harry then falling back
down quickly, using his strong thighs to control the motion. All Harry can
hear is the sound of Louis’ hard cock smacking against his stomach, a trail
of precome connecting the two for a split second before he pushes himself
back up, repeating the motion.
“Touch me, Harry. Fuck. Please, touch me,” Louis begs, so Harry silently
removes one hand to wrap it around Louis’ leaking shaft, matching his tugs
with each of Louis’ movements. “Yeah. Fuck. Just like that. Shit,” Louis
hisses, the sound of his voice laying over Harry’s body, making it feel like it
is on fire, as Louis quickens the pace of his hips.
“C’mere, need you” Harry says, using his free hand to grab Louis’ head to
pull it down to him, bringing his entire body crashing down on his own. He
doesn't know exactly what he needs, he just wants Louis all around him,
forever. The skin of Louis’ chest is hot against his own, sticking to the
already sweaty area. They shouldn’t be hot, given that the only heat source
in Harry’s room is a space heater, but Harry figures that physical activity
such as this will do that. The change of position forces Louis to change his
own movements, now using his hips and abs to fuck down on Harry, still
almost pulling completely out with each thrust. All Harry can feel is Louis,
like he is drowning in him.
“I’m here, baby. I’m here,” Louis breathes against Harry’s lips before he
kisses him, his pupils blown and glassy from both the nature of their
position and the weed coursing through his system. Harry returns his kiss
hungrily, not even caring when their teeth clack together, tongues battling
for dominance. Harry continues the motion of his hands, feeling it in his
mouth when Louis moans again. Louis tastes like perfection, and Harry
wants nothing more than to live off him for the rest of his life. He doesn't
need any other type of nutrients, just Louis’ lips and come will keep him
alive forever.
“Always?” Harry asks, murmuring into Louis’ mouth, eyes looking up to

find Louis’ own, the moment feeling intimate. He hates how vulnerable he
suddenly feels, but the panic attack of the day has finally caught up to him.
Louis seeing him during such a fragile moment and not running away. Any
normal person probably would have run for the hills, screaming along the
way. Not Louis, though. Louis stayed with him. He held him and helped
him calm down, and Harry isn’t really sure what to do with that
information. No one has ever been around when he has had one, so anyone,
even Louis, being there was a whole new realm for him. Feelings in
general.
“Always,” Louis responds, pushing down deeper now, instead of the fast
pace he was going at before, making Harry feel everything. The heat of his
tight walls feeling as though they are suffocating him in the best possible
way. Harry feels like he is being smothered, but also like he is breathing for
the first time in his life. Breathing Louis in, the smell of Louis’ natural
scent mixing with their sweat, creating an aroma Harry wants to bottle and
sell.
“Lou, ‘M close,” Harry says, beginning to suck a mark into Louis’ sharp
collarbones. He feels it when Louis moans, the sound traveling through his
chest making the bones under Harry’s lips vibrate. Harry could fucking die
happy right now, his senses submerged under Louis’ very being.
“Me too,” Louis responds, quickening his pace again. Harry winds the hand
currently not stroking Louis’ hard cock around Louis’ body, feeling where
he is entering Louis, and that does it. Harry cries out as he releases into the
condom, Louis following him shortly after, painting both of their stomachs
and chest. They don’t even have a chance to come down completely when
Louis’ phone starts ringing. Louis doesn’t even pull off Harry as he reaches
to the bedside table to grab his phone. His eyes go wide, panic clearly
written on his face now.
“What?” Harry asks, his brain having trouble processing anything currently
going on. It feels fuzzy and floaty.
“It’s my mom,” Louis gulps, face as white as a ghost as he looks down at

the vibrating and ringing phone in his hand then back up to Harry. A stab of
panic runs through Harry’s chest, making his brain clear up quite a bit.
Fuck.
Chapter End Notes
The Judas Kiss
Chapter Summary
Louis decides if he is going to answer his phone then it is Harry's

birthday.
Chapter Notes
Well I finally stopped crying after listening to Two of Us this
morning.... if you haven't already, go stream it.
Followed you from dawn of time
Whisper thoughts into your mind
Watched your towers hit the ground
Lured the children never found
Helped your kings abuse their crown
In the heart of feeble man
Plant the seeds of my own plan

The strong and powerful will fall
Find a piece of me in all
Inside you all- Metallica
“Fuck,” Louis says, and he is pretty sure Harry is thinking the same thing.
This can’t fucking be happening, but it is. His phone is still vibrating in his
hands, his mom’s picture smiling brightly at him making him feel sick.
“What do I do.” He can hear the panic in his own voice, but Harry looks
just as scared. His skin is paler, big hands gripping Louis’ thighs.
“Answer it,” Harry responds just when the phone stops vibrating, but he
doesn’t sound sure. Not two seconds later, it begins again, his mom’s
picture popping back up. Louis swallows roughly, suddenly feeling
extremely sober, as he nods. With a shaking thumb, he taps the green phone
on his screen, connecting the call and brings it up to his ear.
Louis William Tomlinson. Where are you? The school just called and said
you didn’t attend any of your classes after first period.
Louis winces at the sound of his mom’s voice, piercing his ear like a knife.
He is pretty sure Harry heard every single word because she is pretty much
yelling at him through the receiver. He stops breathing. He can’t exactly tell
her that he and Harry skipped school to smoke weed, talk about God, and
now he has a dick up his ass and come drying on his stomach. He is almost
positive that wouldn’t go over well.
Aren’t you going to answer me?
Oh right. Talking. He is supposed to be talking. He can talk. He has only

been doing it since his first year of life. Forming whole words and
everything. He can even write when he needs to, so talking isn’t that
difficult. Right? He sighs, deciding to stick as close to the truth as possible.
It is a personal rule while lying. He looks down at Harry and sends a silent
prayer to up someone he isn’t sure is even there anymore in hopes that
Harry won’t be too mad at him. Trepidation is painting his beautiful
features like a dark cloud, green eyes wide, red bottom lip pulled between
his teeth, his dark brows pulled into a frown, making Louis want to bend
down and kiss the lines. Comfort him in someway.
“I’m with Harry, Mom. I’m sorry. Something happened at school, and he
was really upset. You can ask Liam. I offered to take him home because he
doesn't have a car, and I was really worried about him. I’m sorry for
skipping school, but he needed me,” Louis tells her, eyes on Harry for his
reaction. He knows Harry doesn’t like showing emotions or letting others
burden his problems. He wanted to say enough for her to understand the
stress of the situation but not so much that Harry would be upset. It’s like
walking a tightrope above the grand canyon, and Louis is slightly scared of
heights. Harry doesn’t look upset though, no more than he did ten seconds
before. He still looks concerned, but more so for Louis. When Harry rubs
his leg in comfort, he knows he isn’t upset, and Louis is more relieved then
he cares to admit.
Oh.
Oh? What the fuck is he supposed to do with ‘oh’? She sounds somewhat
relieved. He knows his mom likes Harry even though he wears dark clothes.
She seems to have a bit of a soft spot for him which is apparently genetic
because Louis’ entire being is soft for Harry and his sisters also love him.
“Umm-- a-are you mad? I know I should have called you, but I just didn’t
think of it in the moment.”
You scared me, Boobear.
Harry mouths the word ‘Boobear’ with a smile, and Louis smacks his bare
chest with an eye roll and a smile of his own. He knows Harry has heard his
mom use the term of endearment before. Harry has even used it himself on
his birthday, but this is the first time he has openly commented on it.
Perhaps it was a move to lighten the tension that has fallen around the
room, and it works. Louis feels more relaxed just like that. “I’m sorry,
Mom. I didn’t mean to scare you. Really.”
It’s okay, love. I understand. You had to help your friend, and I am proud of
you for doing so. It’s not like you to skip school, so I was just worried.
“You’re not gonna tell Mark, are you?” Louis asks, his question hesitant. He
closes his eyes and tilts his head towards the ceiling, praying for an answer
in the negative. Funny he is praying with a dick still in his ass and come
still drying on them, while straddling the boy he is definitely kind of falling
in love with. He can see the irony in it, hitting him like a fucking shovel to
the face, but he is still sort of praying. If he was God though, he probably
wouldn’t answer his prayers. He is definitely a sinner in this moment, after
all.
I should, but I’m not going to. He wouldn’t understand, so it will be our
little secret. Just come home around 3:30, and he will never know. Is Willow
still coming for dinner tonight?
He can hear the smile in his mom’s voice, and Louis feels like he can breath
again. Panic is no longer gripping his chest, stopping him from taking in air.
He can feel the rest of the tension leave both his and Harry’s body, as he
looks down at Harry smiling. Harry is smiling back, fingers drawing
patterns into Louis’ leg now. He forgot Willow was supposed to come to
dinner like she does every Wednesday evening before Church. He will just
text her later, tell her he will pick her up at the normal time. It's not that big
of a deal. Harry didn't even react to the mention of Willow, maybe he is
getting used to it. Willow and Harry a friends now, so it's not surprising.
Harry is used to her being a constant presence in their lives.
“Yeah. She is and thank you.” He can feel Harry squirming a bit, probably
getting over sensitive, so Louis slowly lifts up, feeling Harry’s soft dick slip
out of him, barely concealing a hiss. If his mom heard that, it would be hard
to explain. Harry’s has his eyes closed tightly, probably trying to muffle his
own groan.
Okay. I’ll see you in a little bit. Don’t make a habit of this though, Louis. If I
hear you skipped school again, I will tell your father, and you will surely be
grounded.
She can’t be serious. Grounded? That is the stupidest thing he has ever
fucking heard. You can’t really ground someone who isn’t allowed to do
anything in the first place. That’s like punishing a bird who has spent its
whole life in a cage by telling it that it can’t fly. It doesn't know anything
else, so it’s not really a punishment. Regardless he agrees to her terms, then
exchanges goodbyes and hangs up. As soon as the call is disconnected, he
literally deflates on top of Harry, relaxing completely, not caring a single bit
about the dried come on them.
Harry warps his long arms around him, rubbing up and down his back for a
few minutes as they lay in silence, their breaths and heartbeats seeming to
sync up. Louis feels so relaxed by the rise and fall of Harry’s chest, he
thinks he could fall asleep. He hears Harry start to speak in his chest before
the words come out of his mouth. “What do you wanna do for three hours?”
He sounds nervous again, and Louis can’t have that.
“Nap?” Louis asks, looking up at Harry with a smile. Harry nods, pulling
the condom off and tossing it into the trash can beside his bed. He leaves,
coming back with a washcloth to clean them both off. Without another
word, he climbs into the small bed with Louis, pulling him so that Louis has
resumed his previous position with his head on Harry’s broad chest. He
covers them with the blanket, and Louis is suddenly feeling exhausted.
Harry is warm, the rise and fall of his chest, mixed with the sound of his
heart beat is so fucking relaxing. If Louis could recreate it, he could sell it
as a cure to insomnia.
“Are you feeling better, Hazza?” Louis asks, his voice tired. He isn’t even
sure where the question came from, but he feels like he has to know. He has
to know if Harry is feeling better after the events of the day. He will never
forget the sound of Harry crying and broken on the floor, the fear of the
moment. He doesn't know what happened to Harry, but he never wants to
see him like that again. Or if it does happen again, he wants to be with him
at the very least.
“Much. Thank you, Boobear,” Harry responds, and Louis can hear the smile
in his voice, his large hand tracing Louis’ spine. Moments later, they are
asleep.
_____________
“Are you sure you wanna do this, Haz? This is permanent, permanent. Not
like a sharpie or some shit,” Louis asks, his voice sounding slightly
panicked. Harry can’t stop the chuckle that escapes his lips at the question.
It is the seven thousand, two hundred and eighty fifth time Louis has asked
it today, but it is still kind of adorable. Thank the gods that Harry’s birthday
just so happened to fall on a Friday and a half day of school. Harry had
skipped school earlier in favor of getting his ID updated to reflect his new
status as an official adult, then he met up with Louis once Louis was done
with school. So they have plenty of time for Harry’s birthday present to
himself, then dinner with his family. He still isn’t sure how Louis convinced
his parents to allow him to come, but he isn’t questioning it. He suspects
Jay having something to do with it.
Harry couldn’t fucking believe it when Louis told him he was going to be
allowed to spend his birthday with him. He almost didn’t want to believe it.
This is the first time in six years that he has been actually looking forward
to his birthday. Niall usually tries to do something to make it special, but his
mom is hit or miss. Some years she would cook him his favorite meal, then
he, her and Gemma would watch a movie together while eating his birthday
cake. Other years, however, she left him completely alone. This year,
though, Robin and Anne are making him dinner and a cake, and Gemma is
coming in from college. They also told him to invite Louis, so of course
Harry did. He just hopes it isn’t as disastrous as the last meal he had with
his mom and Robin, although his mom has been making more of an effort
with him lately. He still isn’t sure if he wants to give her a chance though,
having been hurt by her for far too long.
“I did quite well on the English portion of the SATs, so I believe I know
what permanent means, Lou,” Harry jokes, looking over at the other boy,
but Louis isn’t paying him any attention. His blue eyes are trained on the
tattoo shop in front of them, his expression one of discomfort, his posture
stiff. Harry looks around to make sure no one is on the street, before he
grabs Louis’ arm, bringing his attention back to Harry. “What’s wrong?”
“I just...” Louis sentence trails off as he looks back at the tattoo shop in
distress, his eyes following the words on the window then to the various
designs displayed. Harry tightens his hand on Louis’ arm, trying to keep
him in the conversation. Louis looks more nervous than he feels, every
muscle in his body tense, his jaw clenched. He is looking at the tattoo parlor
the way Harry looks at church, with forlorn.
“You didn’t have to come with me, you know. If it makes you this nervous,”
Harry tells him, keeping his eyes and voice soft. He doesn't want Louis to
think he would rather do this alone, but at the same time, he doesn’t like
seeing him this distraught. He felt less anxious about the whole thing when
Louis offered to come with him in the first place
“No. I couldn’t let you do this alone. It’s just-- like-- what if you regret it?
What do you even know about this place, really? They could have dirty
needles or some shit,” Louis rambles, his voice getting higher with each
word, alarm evident in each syllable. Harry wants to kiss him as a way of
comfort, but he can’t. Not in the open, in broad daylight where anyone
could see. Even if they are in the next town over, it is still a place the locals
of their town frequent, since it has more places for shopping and such.
“Hey. Hey. Hey. Calm down, Lou. I won’t regret it. It’s just a tattoo.
Another mark to add to my body,” he pauses, realizing his slip too late. He
recovers quickly, taking a deep breath to plough on before Louis notices his
obvious pause amongst his own panic. “Mac’s friend owns the place. Mac
says he is really clean and good. He even called for me to set up the
appointment, so that his friend would be the one doing it. Relax, babe.”
“Okay, if you’re sure.” Harry nods, and Louis takes a deep breath,
physically relaxing under Harry’s fingers. Just a tiny bit, but it’s a start. He
thinks Louis will feel better once they are in there, and he realizes not all
tattooed people are scary. Harry smiles at him, and pulls him through the
door, listening as the little bell rings above signally a customer has entered.
The room is large and open with comfy looking black leather couches along
the walls, tables with various magazines, and pictures of tattooed clients
hung all around. The atmosphere is almost inviting and warm, not dark,
cold and scary. The woman behind the counter smiles brightly, the bars in
her nose, septum, eye brow, and lip gleaming in the light. Her hair is short
and bright red, with orange streaks throughout. She also has a fair bit of her
body tattooed, from what Harry can tell. He notices Louis has fallen behind,
so he grabs him by the elbow and pulls him to the counter with him.
“Hi. I have a tattoo appointment with Bowen,” Harry says politely,

suddenly feeling nervous. Louis must sense it because he grabs Harry’s
hand and squeezes. Louis hand is slightly sweaty, but Harry appreciates the
comfort. He doesn't think it will hurt too bad. He has probably inflicted
worse on himself, but the anticipation is killing him.
“Harry Styles?” She asks, eyeing him and Louis up, her eyes glancing down
at their clasped hands. Harry swallows and nods. “I need your Driver’s
Licence, and for you to fill this out.” She slides a paper in front of Harry
that looks to be some sort of survey.
“I don’t have a licence, will an ID work?” Harry asks, reaching into his
back pocket for his wallet, covertly avoiding Louis’ eyes. Harry never told
Louis that he didn’t know how to drive. It never came up in conversation,
and it wasn’t something Harry was proud of or wanted Louis to know, but
now he does by default. Harry feels even sicker at the thought, making the
anxiety in his stomach roll. Fuck.
“Yes. That’s fine, hon. Just need to take it to the back and make a copy of it
for our records,” she responds, reaching to grab Harry’s ID. She glances
down at it and smiles broadly as she says, “Happy Birthday.”
“Thank you.” Harry can feel the blush rising on his cheeks at her remark as
he takes the offered survey on the clipboard and moves to sit down on a
sofa. Louis follows, plopping down beside him. The sofa is so deep, Louis’
feet don’t quite reach the floor, and he swings them back and forth. Harry
would tease him about it because it is fucking adorable, but he is busy still
trying to avoid his gaze, acting as if the survey is the most difficult exam he
has ever had to take.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you don’t have a driver’s licence?” Louis asks
after a few moments, and Harry freezes. He didn’t phrase it as if he was
accusing Harry of keeping stuff from him, just more curiously, but that
doesn't make Harry feel any better.
“Never came up,” Harry answers with a shrug, keeping his eyes trained on
the page, filling in his birth date. He can feel Louis’ fidgeting beside him,
probably wanting to ask another question but doesn't want to upset Harry.
Harry sighs, putting the pen down on the page and turns to Louis who looks
surprised to have his attention. Harry never gives information about himself
unless he is asked directly, and even then he probably still won’t answer
honestly. Today, though, seems like a day of first. “I never got it because
my mom never taught me. My dad fucked off when I was in middle school,
and since then, my mom has been too busy to teach me to drive. We don’t
have an extra car, so I can’t teach myself, plus that’s illegal, so yeah.”
Harry releases the rest of his breath, his heart beating wildly. He has no idea
why that was so hard for him to do. It’s Louis. Louis has never made fun of
him or said anything negative about his life in any way. He should trust
Louis. It’s just so difficult. He can feel his cheeks burning. It’s
embarrassing. How is he eighteen years old and never learned to drive a
vehicle. Everyone he knows has their licence, yet he has never even sat
behind the wheel of a car. He hates it, but there is nothing he could do about
it. He does his best to keep eye contact with Louis though, feeling strangely
vulnerable. Even more so than when Louis found him under the stairs a
week ago. That moment was far from his control, but this, Harry chose to
share this. Louis’ eyes dawn with understanding, the blue feeling like it is
cutting into his heart.
“I’ll teach you,” he says after a few moments, and Harry wasn’t expecting
that. Not at all.
“What? How? You’re parents are so strict, plus I can’t ask you to give up
your time to teach me how to drive,” Harry argues, picking his pen back up
to fill out the rest of the survey. The sooner he completes it, the sooner they
will start his tattoo. He had almost forgotten the reason why he was there in
the first place due to the direction of their conversation.
“Mark usually works until five, and school lets out just after three. I think
mom will be understanding if I tell her what I’m up to. We can do it on days
that you don’t work. Baseball doesn't start until March, so that gives us a
month an half. Even then, I can probably still teach you after practice if
Mark is working late or whatever,” Louis says, and Harry realizes very
quickly that Louis has put a lot of thought into it, which does something to
Harry. It makes his heart warm. As much as he wants to believe otherwise,
it really feels as though Louis doesn't want to go anywhere. That what they
have is more than just a passing fling. Harry doesn't know how their
relationship will fit into Louis’ faith, but he has a feeling that Louis’ faith
may be changing, waning even.
“I’ll think about it,” Harry answers, glancing over at Louis who is beaming,
eyes crinkling in the corners because they both know that will most likely
result in a ‘yes’. The realization that Louis knows his mannerisms so well
startles him. Louis can read him. Holy fucking shit balls. Louis can actually
read him. It is partly Harry’s fault for letting his guard down more and more
around Louis, but he is also strangely okay with it. It feels good not to
always cover his facial expressions and wear a mask around him. It is
almost like he can be himself around Louis without fear of judgment. He
has that with Niall, of course, but this feels different. Niall is just a friend
because eww, but Louis is so much more than that.
“Harry Styles?” A deep voice asks, causing both Louis and Harry’s
attention to snap up. Harry had just finished filling out the survey, so he
gets to his feet. The man that said his name is an older guy, about Mac’s
age. He is tall with short gray hair and tattoos on every exposed surface of
his skin except his face.
“That’s me,” Harry responds, shaking the man’s hand, returning his smile.
He glances over at Louis who is back to looking scared.
“Mac’s told me a lot about you,” Bowen says, gesturing for Harry to hand
him the survey as he gives Harry his ID back. Harry quickly slips it into his
wallet as Bowen’s brown eyes scan the page. “So you want to get a heart.
What kind of heart?”
“Just a black one. Not an anatomical one or anything, just a simple black
heart, filled in,” Harry tells him, slipping off his jacket. Louis reaches out to
hold it as Harry points to the location on his bicep he wants the tattoo,
indicating with his fingers the size while Bowen nods a long.
“Alright. That shouldn’t be too hard. Hold tight for a minute and let me
sketch something up, then I’ll take you back.” Harry nods and watches
Bowen disappear into the back room. He returns a minute later with the
sketch of a black heart. He shows it to Harry, and it is exactly what he
wants. He looks at Louis who just shrugs as if to say ‘it’s your body’.
“This is perfect,” Harry says smiling at Bowen. He likes the man. He has
kind eyes despite his intimidating outward appearance.
“Alright come on back. You can bring your boyfriend with you if he wants
to come,” Bowen responds, already turning towards the back rooms, but
Louis and Harry both freeze at his comment, glancing between each other,
neither really knowing how to respond. Harry feels like his heart has moved
up to to the region of his throat, closing off his air way with each new beat.
Louis looks just as petrified, as if he doesn’t know if Harry wants him to
correct the man. Harry doesn't know if he wants to correct Bowen either.
Finally, Louis just shrugs, takes Harry’s hand, and follows him in the
direction that Bowen had just gone. What the fuck?
__________
“So that’s it?” Louis asks, watching as Bowen applies some kind of
ointment to the new tattoo on Harry’s bicep. The black heart is looking red
and angry on Harry’s porcelain skin, but Louis finds he doesn’t dislike it. At
first, he thought he would hate it, always being told tattoos are bad and
against the Bible. Mark has even gone as far as to say ‘if God wanted a
picture there, he would have done it when he made you.’
“Yup. Just wash it twice a day with unscented soap and warm water and
apply lotion when it starts getting itchy. Try not to scratch at it, you don’t
want an infection,” Bowen says, covering the area with shrink wrap, telling
Harry more instructions. It suddenly dawns on Louis why Harry’s choice of
tattoo looked familiar. He drew a heart on Harry’s arm a few months ago to
distract him from a difficult conversation that looked strangely similar, even
being placed close to the same location. Harry couldn’t have chosen that
particular design from that, could he? Louis would ask, but he doesn't want
to make Harry feel uncomfortable on his birthday, and he could be wrong.
If he is, he will look like a total jackass, and it could also bring up another
more unpleasant conversation therefore he pushes the thought into the back
of his mind where it shall stay, forever.
“Ready to go, Lou?” Harry asks, snapping Louis out of his thoughts. Louis
hadn’t even been paying enough attention to notice that Harry has already
put his coat back on and paid the artist.
“Oh yeah. It was nice meeting you, Bowen,” Louis says, and he means it.
When he first saw the guy, Louis will admit, he was scared shitless. The
man looked intimidating and gruff, but once they went back, Louis quickly
realized that he was the exact opposite. While doing Harry’s tattoo, he
talked to them about his garden, and how he couldn’t wait for spring to get
back out there and plant some more vegetables. He seemed like a big teddy
bear to Louis, even though a part of his job is to inflict pain.
“You boys have a good day, and Happy Birthday again,” Bowen responds
with a wave before he heads into the back room. Louis and Harry both
wave at the girl behind the desk as they make their way outside, back into
the cold.
“So how did you get your parents to agree to spending my birthday with
me?” Harry asks as they climb into Louis’ car. Louis isn’t surprised by the
question. He knows Harry is curious, and he was just waiting for him to
ask.
“Mark is out of town for the weekend. Something to do with the Army or
whatever, so Mum said it wasn’t a big deal as long as I’m home by 9. She
also said to tell you Happy Birthday,” Louis informs, pulling out onto the
road, heading in the direction of Harry’s house, glancing over to see Harry
smile at the comment.
“Your mom is so nice. I don’t see why she is with Mark,” Harry remarks,
reaching for Louis’ hand to hold it on the center console. Louis’ heart
flutters with the action, knowing Harry isn’t usually the one that makes a
move, but that has slowly been changing lately, Harry’s confidence in
himself and their relationship growing more every single day.
“You and me both,” Louis agrees with a roll of his eyes. He hates Mark. He
realizes that now, but it is a hard pill to swallow because he feels guilty for
it. Mark wouldn’t love him if he knew who Louis really was though; Louis
knows this. Doesn’t stop the shame that rises in his throat from the thought,
especially after everything Mark has done for them. His mom didn’t have to
struggle with Mark. She could stay home and raise their kids while he
provided for them. It may be a very 1950s way of thinking, but Jay seems
happy with the arrangement.
“Why doesn't she divorce him?” Harry asks, his question genuine, and
Louis glances over at him. Louis is surprised to find he doesn’t really know
the answer to that. They aren't very affectionate with one another, and they
have been arguing a lot more lately however she would probably never
divorce him.
“I dunno. I think there are two big reasons. The first is because she depends
on him for financial security, and the other is because divorce is against the
Bible,” Louis says, nodding his head deciding that had to be the case.
“You do realize that marriage isn’t a strictly Christian principle, right?”

Louis recognizes that tone. It is the same tone Harry uses every time they
have these types of conversations. It is calm, measured, and reassuring.
Louis, it seems, it about to learn something new today. Still, he disagrees
with what Harry just said.
“Marriage is definitely a Christian tradition,” Louis scoffs glancing over to

see that Harry seems unbothered by the comment.
“What makes you think that?” Harry asks, and it seems he honestly wants
to know Louis’ reasoning behind it, however he can see Harry’s brain
working under all of those dark curls. His green eyes gleaming with
intellect, probably trying to predict Louis’ next rebuttal, but Louis is
actually fairly knowledgeable on this subject, having talked to a preacher
about it when gay marriage became legal in the US. He remembers that
conversation well, ultimately deciding that marriage should be between a
man and woman, even if he, himself, had a sinful secret life.
“The Bible states that marriage is a divine covenant made before God and
with God. In Matthew, it says that man shouldn’t separate that of which
God has joined together,” Louis tells him, noticing that Harry still hasn’t
removed his hand. He knows Harry doesn’t get mad when Louis argues
back, though. In fact, he seems to enjoy a good debate, and Louis feels as
though he just got a point.
“Marriage existed well before Christianity and exists in many cultures

outside of Christianity. It is believed that ancient Egyptians even had some
type of marriage ceremony that ended it a celebration. They also allowed
for divorce. Celtic people had hand fasting before Christianity took hold of
their culture. In fact, the Church didn’t even get involved in marriage until
800 CE. Even after that, the Roman Catholic church still felt that marriage
was impure, which is why their priests aren’t allowed to marry. If it was a
Christian tradition, then why are so many within the church forbidden from
ever doing it?” Harry asks, gaze on Louis’ face. Louis glances over,
meeting Harry’s eyes for a brief moment before glancing back.
“Other religions don’t allow their leaders to marry, asking them to take a
vow of celibacy,” Louis points out, smiling. Harry looks slightly impressed
by Louis’ statement, and Louis feels strangely proud.
“That’s true, but that just reinforces my point that marriage isn’t strictly a
Christian tradition,” Harry replies, and Louis should have known better. He
walked right into that one which he tends to do with these discussions it
seems.
“It is still sacred. A sacred bond between a man and a woman,” Louis
counters, realizing it is off topic, but he really doesn’t know how to respond
to the information Harry just provided. He had no idea that the idea of
marriage existed before Christianity. He knew that there were obviously
people who had a ‘marriage’ in royal lines and what not, but he just never
really thought about what that meant until now.
“There is nothing sacred about marriage,” Harry scoffs, and Louis can
almost hear him rolling his eyes. “Historically speaking, marriage has been
about property, wealth and ownership. Fathers used to auction their
underaged daughters off to the highest bidder. Men used to have multiple
wives as a symbol of wealth and prosperity. What’s so sacred about that?
And why does it have to between a man and a woman?” Louis blinks a few
times, feeling as though he has been hit by a Mack truck. Louis feels sick at
the answer. If what Harry is saying is true, which it always is, then there is
nothing sacred about marriage, but he can answer the second question.
“Marriage is for procreation, and homosexual relations can not lead to

procreation,” Louis responds, pretty much reciting word from word what
the preacher had told him. He has it memorized, repeating it like a mantra
on days when he thought that maybe his homosexuality isn’t so wrong, but
Louis has always wanted a family. He can’t do that with a man. Men can’t
give birth. Their anatomy doesn’t match his, so it is against nature. Right?
“Louis, I’m sorry, but that is the biggest load of bullshit I have ever heard.
By that logic, then men and women who are infertile should not be allowed
to marry. Because a woman is infertile, something that your God made her,
does that mean she should not be allowed to marry?” Louis feels like the
words hit him square in the chest, knocking the breath from him. Holy
fucking shit. Harry’s right. That logic is flawed, and Louis feels dumb for
ever believing it. He just, he believed what the preacher told him without
question. He believed what he wanted to believe and didn’t even try to
question it or draw his own conclusion. He followed blindly.
“I don’t think there is anything wrong with divorce. I think it is a good

thing. It means less people are in unhappy marriages where they may be
abused. If God punishes people for saving themselves from abuse, how
does that make him good?” Harry asks, and that’s a damn good question
that Louis doesn’t have the answer to. He would normally say that if
someone chose to marry their partner, then they knew what they were
getting into, but that isn’t always the case, is it? People change. Mark
certainly has since he and Jay got married. He feels Harry squeeze his hand
as they fall into a heavy silence, while Louis drives the rest of the way to
Harry’s house.
“You still wanna come in, right?” Harry asks, his voice small when they
pull up in front of Harry’s house. It looks empty. Harry said they would be
alone for the first few hours until the rest of his family arrives.
“Of course, darling,” Louis responds, kissing Harry’s knuckles as a way to

show him. Harry doesn't look like he believes him though, and he waits for
what he knows Harry is about to say.
“I thought I may have… I don’t know-- pissed you off or something.” To be

fair, Harry did upset him, but not in the way Harry believes. He is mostly
upset at himself for just blindly following his entire life. It is a hard
realization to come to terms with, and it probably won't happen for him in
an hour or so. He feels like it has been slowly building since he met Harry,
each conversation about religion between them another brick lost in his
tower of faith. It hasn’t come crashing down quite yet, but it is definitely
swaying in the wind.
“No, love, you didn’t. You were just telling me facts like always, which is
something I appreciate. Sometimes it feels like I have been lied to my
whole life,” Louis responds, and he can almost see the sentence ‘you have’
escape from Harry’s lips even though he doesn’t utter a single word. His
green eyes are wide and honest, almost as if he feels sorry for Louis. Louis
can’t take it any longer. He closes the gap between their lips and kisses
Harry in broad daylight in his car, where any passing person can see. He
doesn't think there is anyone around, but their kiss gets heated quickly, his
dick twitching in his jeans as Harry’s tongue delves into his mouth.
“Inside,” Harry mummers into his mouth, and Louis doesn't need to be told
twice. Their lips separate with a wet pop as Louis pulls away to reach for
the door handle. He quickly gets out of the car, following Harry’s long
strides and watches as Harry fumbles to unlock the latch. The door isn’t
even fully shut behind them when Louis launches himself into Harry’s
strong arms. Harry barely even stumbles before he grips Louis’ ass, picking
up off the floor. Louis wraps his legs around Harry’s hips, moaning when he
can feel Harry’s hard dick rub against his own through the fabric of their
jeans.
“Fuck.” Through Louis’ lips that are currently attached to the long column
of Harry’s neck, he can feel the word as it travels from Harry’s chest to his
mouth then out into the air. Louis nods, biting his favorite spot where
Harry’s jaw meets his ear, extracting another curse from Harry.
“Harry,” Louis whines, grinding down again as Harry rips his coat off his
arms with one hand, keeping the other firmly wrapped around Louis’ back,
helping him keep his balance. He tosses the offending item into some
undisclosed location, his now free hand coming back to cup Louis’ ass. He
pushes Louis up against the wall, the surface cold through the fabric of
Louis shirt, grinding their clothed dicks together, moaning into each other’s
mouths with abandon.
“Yeah?” Harry responds on a breath, kissing Louis’ lips as he uses both

hands to push Harry’s coat off his shoulders, letting it pool to the ground at
their feet. One hand comes down to grip Harry’s shoulder the other his
bicep. He is confused for a split second when he feels something that
doesn't quite feel like skin. He looks down to find the plastic wrap covering
Harry’s tattoo. He remembers Bowen said to only leave it on for half an
hour after the appointment, and it has been about that therefore Louis
removes it carefully, looking at the red raised skin under it leaning back
against the wall for support.
“Does it hurt?” Louis asks, his finger itching to trace the jet black heart. He
refrains, knowing that he shouldn’t get germs or debris in it. He will have
plenty of time in the future to inspect it, trace it, possibly with a pointed
tongue. Where the fuck did that thought come from? He didn’t think he
liked tattoos, but on Harry, he is finding it kind of sexy. He won’t say that
outloud yet, but he kinda… likes it.
“Not really,” Harry shrugs, and Louis has a newly desperate urge to kiss his
lips, so he does, tightening his legs even more around Harry’s slim waist
and grinding, moaning into Harry’s mouth. Using strong arms and legs,
Harry removes Louis from the wall and carries him up the stairs into his
room. Harry isn’t as uncoordinated as he likes to believe because that move
requires quite a bit of strength and balance. The room is cool on Louis’
overheated skin as they tumble onto Harry’s small bed.
“This. Off,” Louis demands, grabbing Harry’s muscle T and yanking it over
his head, watching as his curls fly with the momentum. He can feel Harry’s
big hands on his stomach, then his shirt comes off a moment later, being
thrown in the same vicinity that Harry’ shirt lays. Louis moans when their
torsos align, loving the feeling of Harry’s skin against his own. Harry’s
mouth is back on his in a punishing kiss as he grinds their dicks together.
Louis feels like he is about ready to jump out of his skin if something
doesn’t happen soon, so he pushes his hands down between them, easily
undoing Harry’s jeans and pushing them down his hips, allowing Harry to
do the rest.
Once Harry’s jeans, underwear and socks are in the floor somewhere, he
sits back on his haunches, looking down at Louis with hungry eyes. Louis
wants to squirm. He has been under Harry’s intense gaze a number of times
now, but it never fails to make him feel like he is both going to fold in on
himself and explode at the same time. Harry runs his hands up and down
Louis’ torso, warm and sure. Louis closes his eyes and moans in response,
just wanting Harry to do something. Harry laughs, as if he read his mind,
and carefully begins removing Louis’ jeans.
“Please. Do something,” Louis begs when his aching shaft springs free, just
wanting more. He watches with hooded eyes as Harry reaches into the
nightstand pulling out the lube and a condom. Louis then makes an
executive decision to give Harry something nice for his birthday. He grabs
Harry’s hips and pulls him down on on the bed. He kisses him soundly, the
lube and condom being dropped on the side. Just when Harry doesn't expect
it, he flips their bodies over so that he is on top of Harry.
“Has anyone ever given you a rim job for your birthday?” Louis asks even
though he knows that Harry has never had his ass licked, but he wants
Harry to know he has the option to say no. Harry’s green eyes widen in
response, his throat bobbing with a swallow. His mouth is hanging open in
surprise, but he looks interested.
Louis knows Harry has watched porn, and he has a sneaking suspicion that
Harry reads romance novels even though Harry will never admit it. He
knows Harry is aware of what a rim job entails, so he waits with bated
breath. His mouth waters. He wants to fucking do this. He wants to taste
Harry where no one has tasted him before. A thrill goes up his spine every
time he and Harry do something new, feeling as though he gets to share
another exclusive moment. Another first for Harry. He feels as though he is
special in some way, Harry trusting him with all of these new sexual
experiences. It is a lot, and does weird things to his heart and stomach that
he can’t explain. He knows one thing for sure though, he wants to give
Harry this for his birthday.
____________
“No, but if-- if you want to, I wouldn’t say no,” Harry stumbles out,
nervous moths blooming in his stomach at the idea. He knows what one is.
He has read about it and seen it in porn, but he never thought he would ever
actually have it done to him. Louis just smiles down at him, seemingly
happy with his answer. He taps Harry’s hip once, and Harry understand the
silent gesture, kicking one long leg over Louis’ head to turn over. When he
is on his stomach, Louis smacks his ass lightly, prompting Harry to laugh
into the pillow, relieving some of the tension in the room.
“Hands and knees, love,” Louis tells him. Harry looks over his shoulder to
see Louis watching him with hooded eyes as he gets into position. Harry’s
hard cock is swinging between his legs, the tip almost touching the
comforter below, not relieving any of the pressure that has built in his balls.
A dusky pink tongue comes out to lick Louis lips, as if in practice. Harry
wants to moan at the site, the anticipation making his stomach jump again.
Harry turns his gaze toward the pillow as Louis’ begins to lean in, afraid he
will come if he watches even for a second. The image of Louis’ firm pink
tongue and thin lips is almost enough to take him over the edge as it is, so
to actually see it in real life sounds like a recipe for coming too early. He
feels it when Louis’ small hands come up to his cheeks spreading him,
making him feel more exposed than he ever has before. Well that’s a lie.
Harry felt far more exposed and vulnerable when he was having a panic
attack under the stairwell with Louis holding him. Louis has proven himself
time and time again, so he tries to keep his breath even when he knows
Louis is leaning in.
“Holy fuck,” Harry hisses when he feels a broad tongue right over his hole,
licking a fat strip. He feels it when Louis chuckles, his breath ghosting over
his now wet entrance. Louis has barely even started, and Harry already feels
like he is going to explode. Louis stops licking for a moment to bite and
kiss Harry’s right cheek, kneading the other one with a firm hand. Then
Louis goes back in, licking the area with a pointed tongue making Harry’s
whole body shake.
“Lou,” Harry whines, feeling as though all of his senses have been
assaulted by the man currently licking him into a pile of skin and
sensations. Harry never thought in a million years a guy would give him
this for his birthday, but here he is bent over and begging for something as
Louis tongue splits him in two.
“That’s it, love. Relax for me,” Louis whispers, the words flowing over
Harry, making him melt into his bed even more while fisting the pillow
under his head for purchase. He can’t talk. He can’t think. His mind has
been taken over by a blue eyed boy with a sinful tongue who is able to
teach him all types of things. It has been that way for months, but for the
first time, Harry is okay with that. He doesn't want to fight it. He doesn't
want to pretend it isn’t happening. He wants to welcome it. What would be
so bad about letting Louis in? He doesn't have time to ponder the questions
when Louis’ pointed tongue licks into him again.
“Ah. Fuck. Shit. Lou. Gods. Fuck,” Harry curses, far past forming coherent
sentences. He has no idea how Louis manages to do it. He just feels like he
needs more somehow. He doesn't know what, and he can’t fucking think
with Louis’ tongue buried in his ass. When it curves inside of him and hits
his spot, the sensation is so overwhelming, he tries to pull away, but two
firm hands on his hips keep him in place. Shitting hell. He moans deep and
low when it happens again, squirming under Louis’ grasp. Holy fucking
shit. His balls feels like they are going to explode yet his cock hasn’t even
been touched.
“More,” Harry begs, his voice muffled by the pillow, and he isn’t even sure
what the fuck he is begging for. His breathing is heavy and uneven, coming
out in quick huffs. He is pretty sure he has tears in his eyes from the both
overpowering and pleasurable sensations. Holy hell. If this is what pressure
on your prostate feels like, it’s no wonder Louis loves bottoming. Perhaps
Harry will ask Louis to fuck him someday. He’s not ready to go there yet,
but maybe someday.
“Okay, babe. Want a finger?” Louis asks, and Harry freezes, the question
running through his mind at light speed. Does he? On the one hand, if he
says yes, Louis may want him to fully bottom, however, he knows Louis’
wouldn’t push him to do anything he is uncomfortable with. All he would
have to do is tell Louis ‘no’. Louis even fucking asked before just doing it
like most people. That’s got to count for something. Right?
“Yes,” Harry answers, nodding into the pillow. He feels it when Louis’
mouth his back on his hole, sucking and licking with a newfound furiousity.
He doesn’t add a finger right away, and Harry almost forgets he is going to,
too lost in the sensation of Louis’ mouth. He barely registers it when the tip
of Louis’ finger begins prodding around his hole, getting him used to the
feeling of it being there. When he pushes past the tight ring of muscle,
Harry tenses up at the intrusion. It feels… weird.
“You’ve gotta relax, love. It will feel so much better if you relax,” Louis
says, his soft voice muffled by Harry’s skin. Harry tries to relax, it is just a
new feeling for him. When Louis begins licking around his finger, though,
Harry feels like he is melting. His body goes pliant with the sensation,
allowing Louis enough room to crook his finger and touch his spot,
prompting Harry to cry out in pleasure. Harry isn’t going to last long at this
rate. Fuck.
“Louis. Feels so good,” Harry manages wanting Louis to know how crazy
he is making him as his eyes roll back in his head when Louis touches his
prostate again with a firm finger. He feels like he can’t breathe, but he isn’t
sure he even needs air anymore when he has discovered this. All he needs is
Louis and his magical tongue and his wicked finger. Holy shit balls. Yes.
He’s dying because this feels too good to be happening while he is alive.
This is as close to heaven as he will ever be.
“Fuck. Harry. You taste so good. Can’t get enough of you,” Louis responds,
and Harry’s head is spinning. He doesn't know up from down. Fuck he
doesn’t even know his name at the current moment, he just needs to come,
but he has no friction on his cock. None. He is so incredibly turned on, his
shaft is aching. He can’t imagine how Louis must feel. He doesn't think he
is touching himself, if the movements of the bed under him are anything to
go by. Louis is focusing on him, and Harry kind of wants to cry. Right now
he feels like the center of Louis’ world, and he has never felt like that
before. Ever. He never felt like his happiness mattered to anyone, but with
Louis, he feels like he matters. He suddenly wants Louis to come with him.
“Fuck my thighs,” Harry says abruptly, turning to look at Louis. Louis has
stopped mid lick, his finger halfway into Harry’s ass, as he looks at him
with wide blue eyes. He looks shocked by Harry’s words, as if he doesn’t
quiet believe what Harry is asking for. Harry knows what he is asking for
though. He isn’t ready for Louis to fuck him, yet, but he wants something.
This is as good of a first step as any, plus they can both get off. Harry wants
Louis to get off for his birthday.
“What? Are you sure?” Louis asks, raising up a bit so Harry can see him
better. He looks fucked out and sinful. His brown hair is messy on top of his
head, eyes glassy, and his chin and lips are wet with spit. Harry finds
himself nodding before Louis even gets the question out, completely sure in
what he wants. He wants Louis to come with him. He knows this like he
knows he needs air to live. He wants Louis to come on him. He wants to
feel Louis between his thighs.
“Yes. Please, Lou,” Harry begs trying to put as much sincerity into his eyes
as possible alongside the need to come. When Louis nods and grabs the
lube, Harry stays where is, unsure of what position Louis will want. Louis
taps his hip, so he lays down on his side, feeling it when Louis’ gets behind
him. He holds his breath, suddenly nervous, when he feels a sticky hand
come between legs, coating the inside of his thighs in lube. He feels hot all
over, despite the cool temperature of the house. He hopes his thighs are
good enough for Louis. He knows it won’t feel as good as him bottoming,
but he hopes it will work for now.
“Not gonna last long,” Louis says, kissing Harry on the cheek as he gets
into position behind him. Harry opens his legs, allowing Louis to slide his
hard cock in between them before he closes them again, tightly, hearing
Louis hiss in his ear. A spark of arousal floods his system. He didn’t realize
he would find this so incredibly hot. Harry cranes his neck to capture Louis’
lips as he braces his legs even more. He moans when he feels Louis’ hot
cock scrape against his balls with every thrust.
“Me either,” Harry mummers into Louis’ mouth as Louis snakes his sticky
hand down Harry’s torso, grabbing his cock to match the rhythm with his
thrust. Holy fucking hell. Harry’s now empty hole tightens around nothing,
as Louis continues his movements, licking into Harry mouth. Harry can feel
the pull behind his navel that he knows means he is going to come soon.
“Holy shit,” Louis curses when he matches the rhythm of his hips to the
timing of his strokes on his cock. Harry seconds that. Holy shit indeed. He
can almost feel what it would be like to be fucked by Louis, and he loves it.
The way his hips are meeting his own with every thrust, the sounds he is
pulling from Louis just from his thighs. The idea of being fucked by Louis
like this, his thick cock pulsing inside of him has him teetering on the brink.
“‘M, close, Lou. Fuck,” Harry warns, getting lost in his own imaginings of
Louis cock being buried deep in him, making the same movements instead
of just between his thighs. He almost stops Louis to tell him to open him up,
and just fuck him. He doesn't. They are both far too close, neither of them
would be able to last through the process, plus they don’t have time. He also
doesn't want to regret his decision. He wants to come to it when they aren’t
in the heat of the moment. He knows Louis wouldn’t agree to it when they
are in the middle of anything sexual anyways, arguing that Harry isn’t
thinking clearly. To be fair, he’s not. All he is thinking about is Louis inside
of him. The way his thick cock is sliding on his thighs, and how it may feel
sliding against the walls of his hole, pressing on his prostate with every
thrust. Fuck.
“Come for me, babe,” Louis responds, biting his lower lip hard, quickening
his strokes and thrust. All Harry can feel is Louis’ hot firm body behind
him, his small tummy pressing into his lower back with each sharp breath.
With the way his hand is fisting his length perfectly and his hard cock
between his thighs, Harry topples over the edge. His whole body tightens
with his release, prompting Louis to moan because of the nature of their
position. Spurt after spurt of hot come coats Louis’ hand as he works Harry
through it, making a mess on the bed. Once he is finished, Louis releases
Harry’s cock, grabbing his hip with a messy hand as he begins to fuck
faster. Harry crosses his legs and squeeze, too fucked out for much else.
“Fuck. Louis. Please come. Need it. Need it on me,” Harry begs. He isn’t
sure where the fuck that came from, but it seems to spur Louis on. He
watches Louis’ face out of the corner of his eye, and he knows Louis is
about to come. He can tell from the crease between his brows, his wide
eyes, his firm lips opened into a small ‘o’. Harry has Louis’ orgasm face
memorized to the point that he could probably paint it if he was any good at
art. Not even three seconds later, Louis is coming, coating his thighs and the
bed in his sticky release. Louis releases his grip on Harry’s hips, bringing
his hand to rest on Harry’s stomach while Harry can feel Louis’ own
stomach against the small of his back, breathing starting to regulate.
“Wanna shower?” Harry asks quietly, after their heartbeats have calmed
down and synchronized, twinning his fingers with Louis’. They are sticky
with come and lube, but Harry doesn’t care. The moment feels perfect, but
he knows his family will be home very soon. He can almost feel the
minutes ticking by in his brain. He is nervous about dinner with his mom,
Robin and Gemma, but this has already been the best birthday he has ever
had. Not even an argument with his mom could change that at this point,
and it is all because of Louis. The man who is currently holding his hand
like he never wants to let go. Harry gets that.
“Love to,” Louis responds a moment later, kissing Harry on the forehead.
Harry freezes at the L word. Louis calls him love all the time as a term of
endearment, but for some reasons Harry’s brain processed the sentence as
‘love you’ instead of ‘love to’. Harry shakes his head, trying to get some
semblance of logic back before he turns his face to smile at Louis kissing
him on the lips.
___________
“So you’re the guy that has been making my little brother smile more?”
Gemma asks as soon as Harry opens the door, and Louis feels like his heart
may actually stop. He knows he is staring at her open mouthed, probably on
the side of gaping, but he doesn’t know how else to react. Louis is so caught
off guard by the question, he didn’t take in her appearance until now. She
has long dark hair, the same shade as both Harry’s and Anne’s, and a
dimpled smile. All three favor each other, and Louis isn’t surprised that she
is also gorgeous. He doesn't know if Anne could make an ugly child.
“Uh…” Louis knows it’s not an answer, so he glances at Harry for help.
Harry’s cheeks are red, and he isn’t making eye contact with Louis or his
sister. Louis is hardly ever at a loss for words, but right now he truly is.
Then it dawns on him. Harry talks to his sister about him. Holy fucking shit.
Louis’ can’t believe it. The realization hits him square in the chest, making
him feel as though there isn’t enough air in his lungs and his heart is too
big.
“Relax. He talks about you. It’s all good things,” she confirms his
suspicions with a wink, taking off her coat and throwing it on the back of
the couch. Harry’s face is still the same shade as a tomato, as he returns his
sister’s hug. She isn’t what Louis was expecting at all. She is bright and
vibrant, smiling easily, very different from Anne and Harry, even though
Harry has been smiling more. Harry didn’t shy away from the hug,
wrapping his long arms around her lower back pulling her in, smiling into
her shoulder. He clearly missed her, and Louis can’t help but smile, seeing
his boy so obviously happy. “You’ve gotten taller, H.”
“Yeah. He’s grown like two inches since I met him,” Louis pipes in, finally
finding his voice. Gemma turns to him, smiling. When she hugs him, Louis
is completely caught off guard again, but returns it after a few moments.
She doesn’t give him any indication as to why she hugged him, just pulls
away and looks at both of them with a smile.
“Happy Birthday! The big one eight. How do you feel?” She asks, hitting
Harry on the shoulder, and Louis notices her accent is just a bit thicker than
Harry’s but not nearly on Niall and Liam’s level. Harry has told him that he
has worked to obliterate his accent over the years, and he hates when it
shows however Louis loves it. It’s adorable. It only comes out when he is
tired, drunk, or upset, and Louis loves every second of it even though he
never wants Harry to be upset. He wonders if Gemma lost some of it
because she is in college with a more diverse group of people, and not like
Harry who worked to actually stop speaking with it.
“The same as seventeen, but with more freedom. Bought myself a tattoo for
my birthday,” Harry says, smiling brightly and pushing up his left sleeve,
having changed shirts after their shared shower, for her to see. She whistles
low, pulling his arm to get a better look at it. It looks red and angry, but still
good. Louis has decided that he doesn't hate it. He isn’t sure he likes it yet,
but he definitely doesn’t hate it.
“Nice. When did you get that done? Does mom know?” Gemma asks, her
questions coming out quickly unlike Harry’s speech pattern.
“A few hours ago with Louis, and yeah I told her. You know she doesn't
give a fuck about me, Gem,” Harry responds, with a shrug. Gemma frowns
but doesn't correct him. Not for the first time, Louis wonders what the fuck
happened with Harry and his mom to make their relationship so strained.
He obviously has a good relationship with Gemma. They seem close. Close
enough for Harry to talk about Louis. He doubts that Harry has told her the
nature of their relationship however she at the very least knows that they are
friends, and Harry is somewhat happy again.
“When are Mom and Robin supposed to get back?” She asks, and as if on
cue, the front door opens to reveal both Anne and Robin, holding grocery
bags and smiling brightly while walking in from the cold. They greet the
party, then go into the kitchen to dispose of the groceries. It’s weird being in
Harry’s house when it is full of people. He is so used to the eerie quiet that
enveloped him in the past, the noise is a stark contrast.
He talks to Harry and Gemma in the living room while Robin and Anne
prepare dinner in the kitchen. He finds he likes Gemma. They have similar
senses of humor, and poor Harry is getting teased left and right by both of
them. He notes that Gemma tries to make him laugh almost as much as he
does, which is right by him. She is smart, and Louis can easily see how she
managed to secure a scholarship to pay for her college education. If he has
anything to say about it, Harry will too.
“Dinner is ready. The cake is cooling. Figured we could eat and give Harry
his presents, then have cake,” Robin tells them, popping his head through
the door separating the kitchen and living room letting a delicious aroma in.
Harry looks surprised at the mention of presents, but he knew Louis had
bought him something. While they were waiting for dinner, Louis ran out to
his car to retrieve his gift to Harry. He just hopes Harry likes it. They all
make their way into the kitchen, Louis sitting between Harry and Gemma at
the small round table. In the middle is a steaming pan of lasagna, and
Louis’ mouth is watering. It looks and smell delicious. After their activities
earlier, he is starving.
“So Harry, show us the tattoo,” Robin prompts once everyone has been
served with a portion of lasagna and some garlic bread. Harry pulls up his
sleeve to show the table his new tattoo, even though both Gemma and Louis
already saw it. Anne and Robin both smile, examining it closely.
“What made you decide to go with a heart?” Anne asks, eyes coming up to
meet Harry’s. Louis is very curious to hear Harry’s answer, so he quietly
puts down his fork, attempting to hear exactly what Harry has to say
without being obvious and making Harry even more nervous.
“Oh well-- I mean-- umm-- I draw stuff on myself all the time, so I wanted
it too look more like a doodle. I figured a heart would be great because it
could mean a lot of things and is up for interpretation,” Harry answers even
though it’s not really an answer. Harry did that thing again where he
answers a question but doesn’t really answer it. He is good at that, Louis
has found. He decides not to push further, figuring that Harry would tell
him his reasoning behind it if he wants. He knows Harry would never say it
in front of his family.
“I like it. Want to get any more?” Robin asks, taking a bite of his lasagna
followed by a bite of garlic bread.
“Yeah. I already have the next few planned. I am gonna start saving up for
another one now that I got this one,” Harry says excitedly, face lighting up.
Louis makes a mental note to ask Harry what others he wants to get and
how soon. He is beginning to get curious about tattoos. He doesn't think he
will ever want one for himself because it is against the Bible, but he doesn't
know if he minds them as much on other people. Harry specifically.
“Okay, Harry. We can’t wait any longer to give your present, so this is from
me and Robin,” Anne says once dinner is almost finished, smiling so
widely, both dimples are popping. Louis doesn't think he has ever seen her
smile this much. From what he has gathered over dinner, she seems kind,
but there is a definite invisible barrier between her and Harry, one that
Gemma and Robin are obviously trying to break.
“And me!” Gemma adds prompting Harry to smile at her obvious lie, and
Anne rolls her eyes but nods anyways. She hands Harry a white envelope,
and he looks confused. Louis suspects he probably doesn’t get a whole lot
of presents from his mom, so he is most likely surprised by the gesture.
Louis feels guilty for being surprised as well however he suppresses it, and
gives Harry an encouraging smile. He watches as Harry opens the envelope
with shaking hands, pulling out what looks to be two tickets, but Louis
can’t see what they say.
“What are they?” Louis asks, putting his chin on Harry’s shoulder and
peering at them. It may not be exactly the most bro thing they have every
done in front of people, but Harry’s family aren’t even batting an eye. He
loves watching Harry’s big hands as they flip the tickets over, then glances
to see his profile is in a wide smile, dimples coming out again as he looks at
his mom and Robin. Louis has the sudden overpowering urge to kiss that
dimple, making an appearance more in the past month or so than it ever has
before. He doesn’t though because Harry’s family have their eyes on him as
well as Harry.
“They are tickets to see Metallica in March,” Harry tells them, an
unconvinced look marring his features. Louis removes his head from
Harry’s shoulder to get a good look at him, and yes, he does look doubtful
of the new turn of events. Louis knows that Metallica is a band that Harry
adores, and he thinks they have listened to a few of their songs together
however he can’t be sure. Either way, Harry should be excited, not
skeptical. “You can’t be serious.”
“We are,” Robin says, nodding his head. “Got you two tickets then I got one
for myself, so I could take you. In This Moment is opening for three
headliners: Volbeat , Disturbed , then Metallica is on last. Figured we could
make a day out of it then grab a hotel room for the night. You can take
whoever you want, even though I suspect who you want to take is already
sitting beside you.” Robin gestures to Louis with one large hand.
“I can’t. My parents would never allow me to go to a rock concert,” Louis

gets out when all eyes of the table land on him. He lets the disappointment
he feels lace his tone as he looks down at the table, feeling suddenly sad
that he is going to miss out on such a special moment for Harry. He could
take Niall though. He would probably be happier with him anyways since
they have been friends for so long. Niall probably even knows the bands
and music. Louis doesn’t know any of it.
“But I want you to go,” Harry says the words so low, Louis wonders if
anyone has heard them but him. He looks over to find Harry’s bright green
eyes on him, sparkling with his happiness of the occasion, and it breaks his
heart just a tiny bit more that he can’t. He would never be allowed. Mark
would never ever allow him to go anywhere, much less a rock concert. It’s
hopeless.
“Let me talk to your parents. Perhaps we can come to an understanding if I

tell him that I am taking you boys to the Biblical Museum that just so
happens to be in the same city. We will be going with a group from my
church,” Robin replies, a sly smile on his face. Hope blooms in Louis’
chest. That may actually fucking work. Holy shit.
“Do you even have a church?” Harry asks, giving Robin a small smile.
“Hell no,” Robin responds, and Gemma cackles prompting the rest of the
table to laugh as well. Louis decides right then and there that he likes him.
He has the sneaking suspicion that Harry is also starting to like him as well,
but he knows Harry won’t admit it or even allow himself to. Harry is
convinced that Robin will leave like the rest of them, but Louis thinks that
he may just be around for a while. He looks at Anne as if she hung the
moon, and he obviously cares for Harry and Gemma, going out of his way
to make sure they have what they need. Harry told him that Robin bought
him a winter jacket a few weeks ago when he noticed all Harry had was a
single hoodie. Louis likes anyone that takes care of Harry.
“You’re awful,” Gemma chuckles, fond smile on her face looking so much
like Harry it’s strange. Anne pats Robin’s hand as he smiles at her.
“I just think that he is eighteen years old and should be able to make his
own decisions about that kind of thing. If he wants to go with us, we can
find a way,” Robin says with a shrug. “Do you wanna go with us?” He asks
Louis, all eyes back on him. Louis thinks about it for a moment weighing
the pros and cons in his head. On one hand, he doesn’t know anything about
any of the bands that are playing, but on the other, he really wants to be
with Harry during his first concert, their first concert really.
“Yes, but only if Harry promises to make me a playlist on Spotify, so that I

can actually know the music,” Louis responds, smiling at Harry. Harry nods
his head in agreement, his own dimpled smile lighting up the room and
Louis’ universe.
“Okay, it’s settled then. Hope you boys don’t mind sharing a hotel room,”
Robin says, looking between them as if waiting for one to protest, or maybe
waiting for them to agree. Louis isn’t sure. His head is spinning with the
new information. Holy shit. He is going to his first concert with Harry. It is
going to be so much fun. He is going to have to borrow something black
and decidedly less preppy to go. He doesn't want to be a poser, but he also
doesn’t want to stick out like a sore thumb, plus the idea of wearing Harry’s
clothes does something to him.
“I think we are okay with that,” Harry responds, smirking at Louis then
reaches his hand under the table to squeeze his knee. Louis returns the
smile, not wanting to seem too eager, but fuck he is. A whole night alone
with Harry, where they could sleep together without having to sneak out at
the ass crack of dawn.
“Okay. I don’t know how I am going to follow that up, but here is my gift,”
Louis says, reaching beside himself to the floor where he placed the badly
wrapped present. He did manage to wrap it in birthday paper and not news
paper, so that’s got to count for something. There is tape in awkward areas
and the bow is crooked, but he tried. He hands it to Harry, suddenly feeling
nervous over his choice of present.
“Thank you.” Harry takes the gift with one big hand and wide eyes. Louis
knows he is probably confused. It looks like a notebook, but it is so much
more than that. Harry begins opening it slowly, popping the random bits of
tape instead of just ripping into it like Louis tends to do. He mostly keeps
his eyes on Louis, not the gift he is slowly opening. It makes Louis feel hot
and squirmy under the intensity of his gaze.
“Oh my Gods, Lou! This is so cool!” Harry says, finally unwrapping it and
holding it in his hand, looking through the pages.
“Yeah. It’s a Songwriting Journal. I know you write in your journal a lot,
and now that you have a guitar I know you have been learning how to read
music and stuff. I figured it would be a great way to combine two things
you love and are passionate about,” Louis rambles, his nerves making the
words come out quickly, all in one breath.
“I love it. It’s amazing. Honestly, Lou. Thank you. You have made this the
best birthday ever,” Harry tells him, whispering the last part so that only
Louis can hear. His smile is bigger than it has been throughout the whole
dinner making Louis’ stomach flop and his heart feel like it has been filled
with helium and will float out of his chest any moment now.
“Happy Birthday, Hazza,” Louis responds returning his smile and wanting
desperately to kiss him at that very moment. To do something physical to
reflect the feeling in his chest. Instead, he grabs Harry’s hand under the
table, squeezing it tight, never wanting to let go. Harry squeezes back,
seeming to have the exact same thought.
Chapter End Notes
Avalanche
Chapter Summary
Harry and Louis spend Valentine's day together. Later, Liam confronts
Louis about something he has noticed while Harry has a 'family night'.
Chapter Notes
Cut me open and tell me what's inside
Diagnose me 'cause I can’t keep wondering why
And no it's not a phase 'cause it happens all the time
Start over, check again, now tell me what you find
'Cause I'm going out, I'll fake what's real
Can anyone respond?- Bring me the Horizon

“Jesus, Hazza, could you be any louder?” Louis hisses when Harry climbs
through the window of his room the night of Valentine’s Day. It took
everything in Louis’ arsenal to even get Harry to agree to come over in the
first place. Harry, in true Harry fashion, hates everything about the holiday.
He didn’t even want to exchange presents, insisting that the present Louis
got him for his birthday was enough, but Louis still has something for him.
Not a present perse, but something Harry can take home with him.
“I could, but I’m pretty sure you don’t want that,” Harry responds, smirking
at Louis when he brings his other impossibly long leg through the window,
setting both feet on the floor of Louis’ room. Louis has most of the lights
turned off, in case one of his sisters gets up to go to the bathroom and tells
his parents that he was up later than allowed. His parents and sisters are
supposed to be in bed, asleep, but there is always the chance of getting
caught.
“I’m glad you came, though,” Louis says, pulling Harry down for a hug,
breathing him in. He smells like winter, vanilla, and something so Harry
that Louis just can’t identify. Harry wraps his long arms around him,
placing his cold hands on the small of Louis’ back under his shirt causing
Louis to yelp in surprise, and Harry to chuckle in his ear. Louis knows he
just saw Harry a few hours ago at school, but that was different. They can’t
really do this at school except for when they sneak off together during free
period, which happens more often than not these days.
“Not yet,” Harry quips, pulling his head back to smirk down at Louis. It
takes Louis’ brain a moment to process what Harry is referring to before he
smiles at the innuendo, smacking Harry on the chest even through his thin t-
shirt. It is far too cold outside for Harry to have just gone out in a thin shirt,
but Louis isn’t going to argue. Harry hardly ever wears anything warm, it
seems. Louis lets him go, allowing Harry to remove shoes before they sit on
the bed together.
“Okay. I know you said you didn’t want presents because you think this
holiday is stupid and was only created by the chocolate companies to sell
merchandise, but I still wanted you to have something.” Louis says the
sentence quickly, having it practically memorized from rehearsing it in his
head all throughout the day. Harry’s green eyes are wide in the low light,
blinking at him.
“But I didn’t get you anything,” Harry responds, looking at Louis in

confusion. Louis uses one finger to push his thick rimmed glasses up his
nose because they started to fall, and Harry’s eyes follow the motion, a look
of hunger there that wasn’t present before. He didn’t think anything of it
when he took out his itchy contacts an hour ago, replacing them with his
glasses, but Harry seems to like the change.
“I didn’t buy this for you. It was already mine; I just want you to have it,”
Louis tells him, reaching over to the other side of his bed grabbing the item
and holding it behind his back. Harry now looks curious, knowing that
Louis is hiding whatever it is behind his back. Louis can’t take the
anticipation any longer and thrusts it into Harry’s hands.
“Your football jersey?” Harry asks, holding up the item between his index
fingers and thumbs, inspecting it. It looks small in Harry’s big hands, the 28
on the front and back catching the low light, causing it to almost shine.
Louis loves that number. He isn’t sure why, but he loves it. Maybe it’s
because he was wearing the number when he and Harry shared their first
kiss. It feels like it means something to him now, and it isn’t just a number.
“Yeah. Thought you may-- umm-- want to wear it when you’re home alone.
You know, kind of like I’m with you,” Louis whispers because he is too
nervous to say it any louder. He can just blame it on the fact that they are
supposed to be being quiet. It’s probably a stupid present, and Harry
probably hates it. The boy hates sports in general, so why on Earth would
he want Louis’ old jersey? Louis wants to smack himself for thinking it was
a good idea.
“I love it. Thank you, Lou,” Harry says smiling widely, both dimples
popping, eyes shining and Louis fucking melts. He is so far gone for this
boy, he doesn't even know what to do at this point. It makes his chest ache
and his stomach knot up in the best kind of way. Louis can’t help but
picture Harry wearing the jersey in his room when he is lonely. It will
probably be a tiny bit too short and tight on him, hugging his body in all the
right places. Louis’ dick twitches at the thought. Maybe one day he will get
to fuck Harry while wearing it. Fuck. Now he is definitely hard.
“You’re welcome,” Louis responds, leaning in to kiss Harry on the lips.

Harry’s big hand comes to cup Louis’ jaw, keeping him there to deepen this
kiss, tongue delving into Louis’ mouth. A spark of pleasure races through
Louis’ system as he reaches for Harry’s shirt, tugging it up over his head,
letting his hands come down to rest on Harry’s chest. He tweaks his left
nipple, being rewarded with a deep groan from Harry straight into his
mouth. Before Louis even knows it, his own shirt is off and tossed
somewhere on the floor, and Harry’s hands are already in the waistband of
his sweatpants, pulling Louis on top of him so that he can yank the
offending item of clothing off. Louis kicks them to the floor when they are
at his ankles, working on Harry’s jeans as well.
“Fuck. Harry,” Louis moans when Harry flips them over easily, laying his
naked body on top of Louis so that their dicks are aligning. Harry’s feeling
warm and hard against his own, making Louis even more turned on. Holy
shit. He doesn't know how much longer he is going to last at this rate. He
loves it when Harry takes control and tells him what he wants. He loves
seeing the confidence in Harry grow because of him. Louis takes off his
glasses, placing them on the bedside table beside the lube. Harry pouts but
doesn’t say anything. Louis just rolls his eyes, not wanting to get his glasses
messy with whatever bodily substances they exchange.
“Wanna suck you. I promise, no sex,” Harry says, one hand coming up to
cup and fondle Louis’ balls, making his eyes roll back into his head. Louis
knows Harry won’t push him into sex. He knows Louis isn’t ready for that
and may never be, and that makes his heart ache. Louis pushes that ache
aside, deciding to instead concentrate on the ache in his balls and dick.
Louis just nods, unsure if he can form actual words at the current moment.
When Harry kneels between his legs and begins licking the head of his
dick, Louis thinks he may actually pass out.
“Oh God,” Louis moans when Harry takes him all the way in, his nose
rubbing against the trimmed patch of hair at the base of Louis’ groin,
breathing him in. When the fuck did Harry learn to deep throat? Has he
been practicing on a banana or some shit? Louis isn’t fucking complaining
though because he is definitely reaping the rewards of that practice right
now.
“You’ve gotta be quiet, babe,” Harry whispers, coming off Louis’ dick with
a slick, wet pop making Louis bite back a groan. Louis can barely see
Harry’s eyes in the semi darkness of the room, but he can definitely see that
he is smirking. His full lips shiny with spit. It’s their first Valentine’s Day
together, however, Louis is getting all of the pleasure and that just won’t do.
He pushes the pillow off to the side so that his head is level with the rest of
his body as Harry sinks back down, his wet, hot mouth feeling perfect.
“Why don’t you preoccupy my mouth? Come here,” Louis tells him, but
Harry looks at him with confused eyes, big mouth still wrapped firmly
around Louis’ dick. It’s obscene, and Louis almost comes at the sight. He
doesn’t, though, liking his idea much better. “Straddle my face,” Louis
explains further, and Harry’s eyes widen with the realization. He doesn't
remove his mouth, as if Louis’ dick is his most favorite toy as he swings his
body around. Louis helps him maneuvers his legs so that he has a knee on
either side of his head. Louis looks up, licking his lips at the sight of
Harry’s length right in front of his face.
He grabs Harry’s hips, pulling him down into his waiting mouth feeling
Harry moan around his own dick as he sinks down. He can taste the
saltiness of Harry’s precome on his tongue, and he moans for more. It’s a
bit easier to be quiet with a dick in your mouth, though. The pull behind his
navel is already present, signaling that his orgasm is imminent. He can feel
Harry’s thighs twitching around his head, so he spreads Harry’s cheeks
resting a finger against Harry’s dry hole. He really isn’t going to last long at
this rate, then Harry pulls off, probably struggling to concentrate on both
things at the same time.
Harry holds himself up on two hands as he begins fucking into Louis’

mouth, with Louis barely able to suppress his gag reflex, nearly choking.
He is, for all intents and purposes, completely pinned down, but he is kind
of enjoying it. A moment later, Harry uses two large ringed hands on his
knees to spread his legs, and Louis feels a spit slicked finger tracing his
hole. Harry leans down again, but instead of taking his dick into his mouth,
Harry begins licking Louis’ balls as he presses the tip of his finger past his
tight ring of muscle. Louis feels around on his nightstand blindly until he
comes into contact with the lube that he had gotten out of his Bible case
before Harry got there, knowing they would probably need it. He tosses it
on the bed beside Harry and hears it open up a moment later. If Harry isn’t
inside of him soon, Louis thinks he may actually die.
“You’re so tight,” Harry mummers, the words ghosting over Louis’ tight
balls, making his dick twitch against Harry’s broad chest. Harry wastes no
time slipping his finger down to the last knuckle, seemingly just as
desperate as Louis. Louis moans around Harry’s length when Harry begins
thrusting his finger in and out, adding a second one just minutes later. Louis
has never felt so helpless and turned on at the same time. The pressure of
Harry’s weight on his torso, plus the fact that he can’t communicate with,
him is taking him even closer to the edge. He doesn't have any friction on
his dick though, so he doesn’t think he will be coming any time soon. Fuck.
“You take my fingers so well,” Harry whispers, and Louis isn’t sure he even
heard him. Maybe Harry didn’t want him to hear the words, however Louis
did, and his dick is fucking throbbing now. Harry doesn’t talk much during
sex, and Louis thinks it may be because he feels stupid or insecure doing so,
but he has been becoming more vocal recently. Louis is loving it. Loving
the sexually confident side of Harry he always knew would be there. Louis
wants to tell him to talk louder and that he loves it, but he can’t because he
has Harry’s dick down his throat, which may or may not turn him on even
more. Knowing that he can’t talk.
He reaches for the lube, finding it laying against his hip. He opens it,
making sure Harry hears what he is doing. Harry makes no move to stop
him as he squeezes a bit onto his finger, placing it against Harry’s tight
hole. When he applies a bit of pressure, Harry’s hips stutter, forcing his dick
deeper into Louis mouth, a low moan escaping his chest. Now who’s being
too loud? Louis would mention that, but his mouth is otherwise occupied.
He isn’t sure if that pisses him off or turns him on. He is going to go with
both. Harry’s hips soon regain their rhythm, and Louis notices Harry is
withdrawing his hips more from Louis’ face, forcing Louis’ fingers in
deeper. Harry’s moans are muffled, as if he is biting down on something to
stop them from escaping.
Harry is tight around his fingers, but relaxed enough that Louis decides to
add a second finger. Harry had two fingers in him on his birthday, even
though he may not have been aware of it. He uses the same technique as
before, starting with just the tip of two fingers allowing Harry to control
how much he takes. Before Louis’ knows it, he is two fingers deep in Harry
while Harry fucks his mouth. Harry also has two fingers inside Louis, but
he is still not touching his dick, driving him mad. Louis just wants to come.
He is surprised Harry hasn’t yet, even though Louis has been trying to only
touch his prostate every other thrust.
Louis moans when Harry adds a third finger, nodding his head in hopes that
Harry can feel it through his dick. He doesn’t know if that is possible, but it
is worth a fucking try because he can’t do much else. Harry keeps the pace
of his hips, gagging Louis with almost every thrust then pulling back to sink
Louis’ fingers deeper into him. Louis is now pressing against his prostate
with every thrust, just wanting to get Harry to the point of no return. He
wants to taste Harry on his tongue again. He is dizzy with it and lack of
oxygen. He moans around Harry’s shaft when Harry’s hips stiffen, his hot
come filling Louis’ mouth a moment later. Louis tries to swallow every
drop, but knows some has managed to make its way out of his mouth and
onto his chin. He doesn't care.
“Where do you want to come?” Harry asks after a few seconds, turning his
body so that his dick is no longer near Louis’ mouth. He watches with
hooded eyes as Louis licks his lips, using a finger to smear the come off his
chin then plops it into his mouth, sucking the salty substance off. Louis was
so wrapped up in Harry’s pleasure, he almost forgets he hasn’t come yet. He
is just confused by the question. It also dawns on him that Harry isn’t
freaking out over coming first, like he would have a few months ago. Louis
is so proud of how far he has come with his confidence he could cry, but
Harry is looking at him expectantly. Right. What was the question again?
“What do you mean?” Louis asks, still not understanding the question. He
just knows he suddenly feels empty without Harry’s fingers in him. He
almost wishes they would have had sex, but Louis isn’t ready for that yet.
He’s not ready to do that under Mark’s roof, where God can really judge
him for his misdeeds. He would not only be sinning, but also breaking a
commandment. He is pretty sure fucking a boy under his parent’s roof is the
exact opposite of honoring them.
“Since I didn’t get you anything for v-day, you can come anywhere on my
body you want,” Harry responds, holding out his arms to emphasis his
point. Louis’ eyes widen with realization as to what Harry is saying.
Anywhere. Holy shit. Louis has imagined coming on every inch of Harry’s
body. His pert ass. His long legs. His toned stomach. His broad chest. Most
of all, though, Louis has imagined coming on one place in particular.
“Your face,” Louis responds before he can stop himself. He holds his
breath, waiting for Harry’s reaction. Most guys don’t really like facials, and
he is sure Harry has never had one, however, he desperately wants to do it.
Harry doesn’t seem to mind come though. In fact, Louis actually thinks he
likes it. He has licked it off of Louis’ skin enough times to prove that.
Maybe it’s not an outlandish idea.
“Okay. Where do you want me,” Harry says all in one breath, his eyes
darker than before. Louis is so surprised by his quick response, his brain
short circuits and his dick throbs painfully. He uses his strong legs to flip
them over, wincing when the bed creaks under them. He reaches over to
turn the lamp on the bedside table on, praying that no one will wake up and
notice it because he really fucking wants to see this. Harry’s mouth is open
in surprise, and Louis definitely wants to come on those red lips. Fuck.
“Lay there,” Louis tells him as he shimmies up Harry’s torso, finally

coming to a stop on his broad chest. Louis’ dick is aligned with Harry’s
lips, and he almost slides it inside, however, that would just distract him
from his intentions. Louis then begins wanking himself right over Harry’s
beautiful face. Fuck. He isn’t going to last long, especially with the fact that
Harry is watching the movement of his hand with dark green eyes. Louis is
surprised when Harry lifts up his hips, slipping two fingers into his already
wet, loose hole easily. Louis bites his lip to suppress a moan and quickens
his pace, gripping Harry’s tattooed bicep with his free hand. Holy fucking
shit.
“Oh my God, Harry. Right there. Please,” Louis begs, wanting to close his
eyes but also wanting to keep them open because he is so fucking close to
coming on Harry’s face, and he will probably die if he misses it. He presses
his hips down on Harry’s fingers grinding slowly in contrast to how quickly
his hand is moving over his shaft. Harry brings his other hand to clap over
Louis’ mouth in order to keep him quiet, and Louis’ nods in thanks because
he is getting ready to fucking scream. All of his senses are being assaulted
by Harry. His smell. His face. His body. Everything.
Louis cries out, the sound muffled thanks to Harry’s hand, when the first
spurt of come is released from his aching shaft and lands right across
Harry’s full, red lips. The second hits his eyes, Harry closing them in time
as the white substance lands on his eyelashes and cheeks. The sight is so
incredibly obscene, Louis releases a third and final ribbon that lands in a
vertical line from Harry’s cheek down to his sharp jaw. Louis thinks he
would come again just from the sight alone if he wasn’t spent. Harry drops
his hand, and Louis wants to take a picture of the beautiful boy below him.
Then his tongue comes out to lick the come from his lips, and Louis decides
a video would be a much better alternative. Instead, he just commits it to
memory, knowing he is going to masturbate to this moment over and over
again for the rest of his fucking life because Harry Styles is the definition of
spank bank worthy.
“Shit. Hold on,” Louis says, reaching onto the floor and grabbing the first
item of clothing he can find to wipe Harry’s face off with. He almost doesn't
want to. It’s like erasing art. How would Leonardo Da Vinci have felt if
someone threw water on the Mona Lisa? Louis hopes Harry will give him
the opportunity to recreate it in the future. Many, many times. Or possibly
on other body parts, maybe over his tattoo. Where the fuck did that thought
come from? Louis hates tattoos. They are against God. Then again, so is
having sex with a man.
“Cuddle?” Harry asks, once most of the come has been wiped off his face
by Louis’ sure hands. He cracks his eyes open, peering up at Louis with a
smile, and if Louis’ heart melts just a bit more, nobody has to know. Louis
nods his head and shimmies back down Harry’s torso then, moving his body
to lay on his side, his body touching Harry’s. Harry’s hand comes up to rest
on his waist, and Louis thinks he could fall asleep. He shouldn’t. Harry
should leave, or they may get caught. Harry can leave in a little bit though
because Louis is comfortable.
“Good night, Lou,” Harry says, shutting off the bedside lamp and kissing
Louis’ eyelids. Harry then maneuvers their bodies enough to cover them up
with Louis’ thick blanket. Thank God because Louis was starting to shiver
from the sweat drying on his skin. He sighs happily, feeling warm and safe
in Harry’s arms.
“Good night, my Hazza,” Louis responds tiredly. He should probably

remind Harry to leave in a little bit. He should probably tell him what time
his alarm is going off for school the next morning, but he doesn’t. He lets
his body settle deeper into Harry’s side, concentrating on the way Harry’s
long finger is now stroking his spine as his breathing begins to even out.
Louis is surprised to hear Harry’s voice, but tries to keep his breathing even,
wanting to hear whatever Harry is about to say even though his heart feels
like it is frozen.
“I’ve got scars, even though they can’t always be seen, but when I’m with
you, I don’t feel a thing,” Harry whispers, and Louis is almost positive he
wasn’t supposed to hear that. Harry probably thinks he is asleep, only
wanting the walls to know his secret. Louis wants to cry, but he doesn’t. He
has seen Harry’s scars. The physical ones at least, and he can’t even begin
to understand the mental ones. He thinks Harry may let him in on those
eventually, too. Instead of asking the question on the tip of his tongue, he
allows the warm feeling to take over his chest again letting his mind fall
asleep.
__________
“Louis! If you don’t come down right this second, you are going to be late
for breakfast. Don’t make me come up there!” Louis hears Mark’s booming
voice, startling him from his peaceful sleep. What the fuck? He is
disoriented so it takes him a few moments to realizes he is in naked, in bed,
beside a sleeping Harry. He rubs his eyes and squints at the clock. He thinks
it reads 7:15 am, but he isn’t sure. The seven could be a fucking two for all
he knows; his eyesight is so fucking bad. Then the words Mark just yelled
sink in.
“Fuck!” He curses loudly, waking Harry up. He climbs over Harry’s naked
body, hearing a small ‘harumph’ as he does so and scrambles into the
bathroom. He quickly brushes his teeth and puts in his contacts. It is
definitely going to be a hat day because he has zero time for a shower now.
When he comes back into the bedroom, Harry has sat up in the bed and is
blinking sleepily at him. Louis allows himself a moment just to fondly
smile at the boy. He looks so soft, Louis just wants to climb back in bed and
cuddle him, but he can’t. If he doesn’t get down stairs, Mark is going to
come barging through his door, and they are going to be fucked. Not in the
fun way either.
“I’ll be down in a second. Sorry, I overslept!” Louis yells, opening his door
a crack so that the rest of his family can hear him. He doesn't give them
time to respond before he shuts it again, turning back towards Harry who
looks decidedly more awake and is looking on the floor for his discarded
clothing. Louis goes into his closet to find something to wear. The options
are limited, he needs to do laundry, so he grabs a white t-shirt with skinny
red horizontal stripes and a blue zip up hoodie. He slips his legs into his
jeans then walks out while putting the shirt on. Harry is looking at him in
panic.
“My shirt from last night has come on it. I can’t wear it to school!” Harry
exclaims in an alarmed whisper, glancing at the door then back at Louis.
The direness of the situation must have sunk in as Harry woke up. Fuck.
Louis thinks for a moment as Harry pulls on his jeans. Louis would watch,
loving to see Harry wiggle into those ridiculously tight things, but he is too
busy trying to think of a solution.
“Wear one of my shirts,” he says finally, the answer dawning on him. He

may as well have a fucking light bulb over his head because the idea is
fucking brilliant. He knows it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out
that solution, but it is far too early in the fucking morning. His brain isn’t
functioning well as it is, so he thinks it is genius really, given the
circumstances.
“What? Lou, you don’t even own anything black,” Harry says, as if the very
idea of wearing anything other than black is preposterous. Louis is
offended. Well, not really. Harry isn’t wrong. Louis has maybe one black
shirt, and he is almost positive it is dirty and would be far too small on
Harry. All of his clothes are going to be snug on Harry, but they don’t have
much of a choice.
“Does that fucking matter?” Louis asks, wanting to yell. They don’t have
time for this. “I thought you didn’t care what people think of you.”
“But, Lou, I haven’t worn anything preppy in fucking years,” Harry whines,
and Louis is surprised he didn’t stomp his goddamned food. Louis would be
amused and endeared if Mark wasn’t possibly halfway up the stairs at that
very moment.
“Haz, are you going to tell me that you would rather wear a come stained
shirt to school than something ‘preppy’ as you call it, out of my closet?”
When Harry looks torn, Louis can’t believe it. “Seriously?!?” He whisper
shouts.
“Fine. Give me a damn shirt,” Harry relents, pouting. It’s so fucking cute
Louis wants to kiss him, but, at the same time, he also wants to punch him
on the nose for being so fucking stubborn. Christ. How can he be both so
infuriating that Louis could fucking strangle him, and so endearing Louis
wants to hold him and never let go? Louis nods and goes into his closet.
Finding the one thing left on a hanger that would probably fit Harry. It will
still be small, but it will have to do.
“Here,” Louis says, throwing it at Harry. Harry surprisingly catches it with

one hand. Maybe his reflexes are getting better.
“Light fucking blue? Seriously, Lou? I haven't worn light blue since I was
like five,” Harry grumbles, holding the item up and pouting at Louis. Louis
barely suppresses a smile, far too smug to see Harry have to walk around
school wearing something that is almost very clearly his.
“At least it’s not my Hollister hoodie, plus light blue looks fabulous on
you,” Louis responds with a shit eating grin. Harry rolls his eyes, pulling
the shirt on. It is almost too small on him, fitting snugly around his
shoulders and barely touching his jeans. Louis loves it.
“I don’t even have a hoodie to wear over it,” Harry complains, pulling a
gray beanie over is his curls at the same time Louis pulls one of the same
color on his head.
“Why didn’t you wear a hoodie last night?” Louis asks, brows creased in
concern. He didn’t ask last night, but now his curiosity has gotten the better
of him. It wasn’t super cold outside, but it is still the middle of February
which is in the winter. He remembers Harry’s hands being cold when he
came through the window, but otherwise, he seemed fine. Harry just shrugs
in response, pushing his hands into his pockets, but Louis looks at him,
waiting for an answer.
“I wasn’t really cold last night,” Harry answers, and Louis thinks there is
more to it than that, but he doesn't have time to get it out of Harry. He may
never know, but if it was all that important, Harry would tell him. It wasn’t
really that cold outside, but most people in the south would think it is. Louis
is okay just wearing a hoodie, having grown up in many different areas with
different weather.
“Louis! You have five seconds!” Mark yells, and Louis feels like he is
going to be sick. He grabs his backpack from the side of the bed, stuffing
the jersey he gifted to Harry in it before zipping it up, figuring he would
just give to Harry before the end of the day. Heaven forbid Harry ever carry
a backpack.
“Meet me by the car in ten. Be quiet,” Louis says, as Harry stops and ties
the white strings of his hoodie in a bow with nimble fingers. Louis lets him,
even though his hoodie isn’t even zipped, and it probably looks strange. He
shoots Harry one last smile before he leaves his room, quickly going down
the stairs.
“I’m so sorry. My alarm didn’t go off for whatever reason,” Louis

apologizes as soon as he gets into the kitchen. Mark looks angry while the
rest of his family have already started eating.
“Pathetic excuse. Your mother worked hard on cooking you breakfast,

meanwhile your tardiness has rendered it cold, and you missed prayer,”
Mark says, and Louis barely suppresses an eyeroll. It is one fucking
breakfast. It’s not like he kicked a puppy or murdered anyone. He literally
just overslept, yet he is treated like it is the end of the fucking world. Louis
sits down at the table and eats quickly and quietly, an awkward silence
settling into the room. He makes two bacon, egg, and cheese biscuits, eating
one then sneaking the other in a napkin under the table for Harry.
“I’ve gotta get to school,” Louis says once he is finished, standing from the
table and stuffing the pilfered food in his hoodie pocket. He doesn’t even
spare Mark a glance as he kisses his mom on the cheek and his youngest
sisters on top of the head. He pats Fizzy and Lottie on the shoulder, then
leaves the room, feeling like he can breathe again. When he gets outside, he
sees Harry standing behind a tree near his car, waiting on him. Louis
glances behind him to make sure no one is looking out the window before
he unlocks his car with the key fob and waves Harry over, smiling at the
shirt on Harry’s torso. He can’t help it. He fucking loves it.
“Here. Grabbed you something,” Louis says, handing the food to Harry
once they are sat in the car. Harry appears surprised, looking down at his
hand with wide eyes, his mouth in the shape of an ‘o’.
“You didn’t have to. I would have been fine without. I hardly ever eat
anything before lunch except maybe the occasional piece of fruit if we have
any,” Harry tells him, which kind of hurts Louis’ heart. Their living
situation has gotten better since Harry began working and Robin came into
their lives, but it still isn’t the best. At least the bills are seeming to be paid
on time, and they have more food in the house. Louis still hates that Harry
had to do without for so long that it became normal to him.
“Course I did. I couldn’t forget about you,” Louis says, watching Harry take
a bite of the sandwich as he turns the key in the ignition, the car coming to
life. Harry is supposed to be taking his permit test next week, and Louis is
looking forward to teaching him how to drive.
“Do you have to pick up Liam?” Harry asks around a mouth full of food,
and Louis backs out of the driveway. His slightly greasy fingers fiddle with
the knob on the stereo, finding a radio station he likes. Rock music begins
playing softly in the background, and Louis isn’t surprised. That reminds
him.
“Nope. He is taking the bus because he wants to see Cordelia again. I guess
they did something for V-day, but I’m not sure. Anyways, I need to ask you
a favor,” Louis hedges, changing the subject.
“Sure. What is it?” Harry asks, finishing his sandwich and looking out the
window.
“Can you make me a Spotify playlist of the songs I should expect to hear at
the concert? I don’t want to be that person who just goes and doesn’t know
any of the music,” Louis says, feeling kind of embarrassed for asking, even
though he already joked about it when Harry was gifted the tickets. He
knows he has heard some of it. He has been listening to music with Harry
on more than one occasion and the bands they are going to see are among
his favorite.
“Yeah of course. Already told you I would, and I meant that. I will work on
it this weekend and text you a link when it’s done,” Harry says, smiling
brightly as if Louis has given him a present. Louis shakes his head and pulls
into a parking spot, putting the vehicle in park. They walk into the building
together, only gaining a few stares and whispers. Probably from Harry’s
outfit, never seeing him in anything other than dark shades. They could be
talking about their friendship, but at this point, the entire school knows they
are friends, especially after what happened with Travis and his cronies.
Louis doesn't even know why people bother talking anymore because it is
old news. They get there right when the first bell rings, signaling that class
is about to begin. They walk into class together, Louis following Harry to
the Baritone section even though that isn’t his seat.
“That’s an interesting shirt, Haz. And where is your hoodie? It’s colder than
a witch’s tit out there,” Niall says, and what the fuck? Colder than who’s
tit? A witch? This isn’t fucking Halloween, and why on Earth would a
witch’s tit be cold? Didn’t Harry say that witches look like everyone else?
Is there a way to tell if a person is a witch to feel one of their breasts to see
if it is cooler than the rest of their body? Louis will never ever understand
these southern idioms, and he isn’t even sure he wants to because Louis
isn’t going to be feeling anyone’s breast anytime soon, thank you very
much.
“Yeah. It’s from like middle school. I haven’t had a chance to do laundry,”
Harry lies, but Louis can see the faint blush on his cheeks. Niall is looking
between them grinning like a loon, while Liam looks suspicious. Fuck.
___________
“I got my permit!” Harry exclaims into the receiver right as Louis picks up
the phone. He just finished at the DMV, Robin taking him to try for his
permit since his mom is working. He can’t believe he passed it on the first
try, and glances over to see Robin smiling at his happiness. Once he
finished the test, and was told he passed, Robin clapped him on the shoulder
congratulating him immediately. He was itching to call Louis right away,
but somehow refrained until he got his picture taken and had the new permit
in his hand.
Congrats, Hazza! I knew you could do it.
“Thanks for staying up late last night and helping me study from your book
since I didn’t have my own,” Harry replies, glad that Louis’ book from two
years ago still had correct information. They were up until 1 am, Louis
quizzing him based on information from the book. Most of it was common
sense, but he was still glad to have Louis’ help.
It was nothing, Haz. I’m so proud of you.
“Thanks,” Harry responds, blushing. Robin said the same thing when he
announced it to him, texting Anne immediately. He then showed Harry her
response, and Harry was surprised to see in big letters ‘I’M SO PROUD OF
HIM’ with a crying emoji. Things have been slightly better between Harry
and Anne recently, but he doesn’t want to believe things have changed
forever. Maybe while Robin stays in the picture, and who knows how long
that will last for. It’s the longest his mom has been with a guy since his dad
left.
So what are you all doing now?
“We are meeting mom to go bowling. She just got off work. I guess we will
get pizza there,” Harry responds barely stopping himself from rolling his
eyes. He suppresses a smile, secretly excited to spend some time with his
mom. He hopes it’s not a disaster, but Robin insisted that they do some
‘family bonding’ even though Robin isn’t really a part of their family. He
doesn’t hate Robin, though. He can’t. He is too nice of a guy. Always
asking Harry about his life and being supportive. He even hung one of
Harry’s physics exams on the fridge because he earned an ‘A’ on it. Anne
hasn’t even so much as asked about his grades in years, but she is making
more of an effort. She even asked him the other day if he was planning to
go to college like his sister. Harry was shocked to say the least.
Don’t act like you’re not excited.
Harry can hear the smile in Louis’ voice, and this time he doesn’t try to
suppresses his own as he climbs into the passenger side of Robin’s jeep. He
didn’t even ask to drive because he knows he isn’t ready for the road quite
yet. “I am,” he admits, then changes the subject. “What are you doing?”
Getting ready to grab an early dinner with Liam and Niall. They told me to
invite you, but I said you were busy with a family thing. You should have
seen the look on Niall’s face. It was priceless. I’m surprised you didn’t tell
him.
“Yeah. I forgot to tell him,” Harry says, and it isn’t a lie. Niall knows that
Robin has been trying to bring Harry and Anne closer together, he just left
out the details as to how. He just didn’t want Niall to get all excited for him,
and it suddenly dawns on Harry that Louis is the first person he thinks of to
tell news to, not Niall anymore. It was Louis he told about the ‘family
night’, and Louis who he called as soon as he passed the test. Since when
did Louis become a more important part of his life than Niall? Maybe not
more important, but certainly something. Holy shit. Harry isn’t sure
whether to feel guilty, or petrified, or happy. He is going to go with all of
the above. He almost misses it when Louis speaks again.
Wanna do our first driving lesson next week?
“Yeah. I’d love to. Robin also said he would teach me, and I guess mom
offered. So between the three of you, I should have my licence in no time,”
Harry says, glancing over at Robin who smiles when he hears his name. It’s
odd to Harry how just a few months ago, Robin was a complete stranger,
and now he is starting to become a big part of his life. At first, Harry did
everything he could to push him away, but, much like Louis, Robin
persevered. He never pushed him too hard, just let him know that he was
there. Harry has visited his house on more than one occasion and met his
children from a previous marriage, Mike and Amy. Harry has decided,
begrudgingly and only to Louis, that he likes Robin, but he still refuses to
get attached.
That’s great, Haz. You’ll be a pro in no time. Oh, and thank Robin for me.
He somehow convinced Mark to let me go with you all next month. I don’t
know how he did it, but I am convinced he is a wizard.
“Fuck yeah!” Harry exclaims, excitement coursing through him at the news,
glancing over to Robin with his choice of language. Robin doesn’t seem to
care though. Harry has heard Robin cuss on more than one occasion, and
Harry knows he is not the hypocritical type, thank the gods. “You’ve been
reading too much Harry Potter,” Harry adds with a smile.
The Goblet of Fire killed me. I don’t know if I can mentally handle to Order
of the Phoenix, but guess what I started reading last night?
Harry can hear the smile in his tone, and it gives him butterflies and makes
his chest feel too tight. “The Order of the Phoenix.” It’s not really a guess.
He knows Louis couldn’t resist picking it up when Harry gave it to him at
school yesterday. He is addicted to the story. Harry told him once he
finishes with them, he can take the sorting quiz on Pottermore because then
he will be a true Potterhead. Louis is far too excited, convinced he will be in
Gryffindor. Harry doesn’t have the heart to tell him he thinks he will be a
Slytherin.
Yup. I swear to God, Harold, if this makes me cry like the last one, I am
never trusting your presents or book recommendations again.
“That’s simply not true,” Harry responds laughing at Louis’ threat. He

laughs harder when he remembers Louis texting him at exactly 2:07 am a
string of crying emojis. It scared Harry at first, thinking something was
actually wrong, but it turned out Louis had just finished The Goblet of Fire
and was a mess. He spent the next half hour consoling Louis about the
death of a fictional character, barely able to stop himself from telling him
what happens next.
You’re probably right. Well, I’ve gotta go, or I am going to be late. Want me
to tell Ni the good news?
“Nah, I’ll text him. Don’t want him to get too jealous that I told you first
even though he is my best friend,” Harry says, insinuating that Louis is
more than his best friend. He is, though, isn’t he? He thinks of Louis as so
much more than that, but he doesn’t know if Louis feels the same way. He
then begins to panic with the realization that statement may sound weird to
Robin. He glances over at him, but Robin seems to either be not be paying
attention or pretending to not pay attention. Either way, he doesn't look
shocked or outraged.
Alright. Text me with how things are going. Don’t be nervous. I have a
feeling it will go great. I’ll talk to you later and congrats again.
“Thanks, Lou, and I will. Bye,” Harry says, smiling at the fact that Louis
seems to still be able to read his mind even though there are miles between
them currently. He taps the call end button just in time to see that the
bowling alley is straight ahead.
“Sorry about that,” Harry apologizes shyly, realizing it may have been rude
to be on the phone that long when in the car with Robin. He looks down at
his phone, sending a quick text to Niall with the news.
“No need to apologize. Louis is a great guy. Your mother and I like him a
lot. He’s good for you,” Robin responds, his smile wide, and Harry isn’t
sure what that means. He’s good for him? Isn’t that what people say about
significant others, not just friends? Maybe Harry is looking too far into it.
Robin probably didn’t mean that at all. He is distracted when his phone
vibrates. He looks to see a gif of a dog driving a car, badly, with a string of
seemingly random emojis below it. Harry laughs and puts his phone in his
pocket, wanting to try to stay off it while he is with his family.
“He wanted me to thank you for convincing Mark to let him go,” Harry
says, looking at Robin.
“It was nothing,” Robin replies, waving him off. It wasn’t nothing though.
Mark is an dick on the best of days. How on Earth did Robin convince him?
“What did you tell him?” Harry asks, curiously. He would have loved to
have been a fly on the wall for that conversation. He’s not even sure how
Robin got a hold of him. Did he call him or did he go over to his house?
Harry wants to know, but at the same time that would feel as though he is
invested in Robin. He refuses because there is still a chance Robin will see
how fucked up his family is and leave.
“That we are going to a Biblical Museum, and that you boys would be with
me the whole time. Took a bit more convincing than I thought. Mark is a bit
of an asshole, however, Jay was on my side, so that helped,” Robin tells
him, pulling into a parking spot.
“Well, Louis is convinced you’re a wizard,” Harry remarks, opening the

door to the cab and getting out. Maybe Louis is right. Maybe Robin is a
wizard, and they haven't figured it out yet. Picturing Robin with a long
beard, in robes and half moon spectacles it quiet hilarious though, and
Harry has to bite back a smile.
“Just call me Dumbledore,” Robin responds, opening the door to the

bowling alley then following Harry inside. Harry laughs because that
sounds like something Louis would say and exactly what he was just
picturing. They find Anne quickly. It seems she had time to go home and
change into a long sleeved cream colored shirt. Her hair is down, and she
looks happy.
“Congratulations, Harry,” she exclaims as soon as she sees him, wide smile
on her face. She then comes over to him and Robin, smile still firmly in
place. She opens her arms slowly, and Harry thinks she is going to Robin,
but instead she tentatively wraps them around him as if she is unsure that he
will accept the hug. He is unsure as well and extremely shocked by the
action. He doesn't really remember the last time his mom hugged him, so he
isn’t sure how to react, but her arms are definitely around his waist, her
head hesitantly dropping to his chest. The last time he hugged her, they
were the same height, now he is towering over her.
“Thanks,” Harry responds, voice wavering just a bit. He finally wraps one
arm around her, not wanting to fully go there yet, but at least she is trying.
She is as warm as he remembers and smells exactly the same. He didn’t
realize how much he missed her touch until it was back again. He doesn’t
want to get too attached though, convinced it will go back to the way it was,
so he just soaks up what he gets for now.
“Take a picture of me with my licenced son,” She tells Robin, breaking

their embrace. She hands Robin her phone, and he takes a step back, aiming
the camera at them.
“It’s just a permit,” Harry responds cheeks heating with her words, but she
just pushes him so that they are side by side. She wraps both arms around
his waist, so he rests his hand on hers, leaning down so his cheek is
touching the top of her head. Robin snaps a few, smiling at them. It’s weird.
His mom has been getting a bit more touchy with him lately, gripping him
on the shoulder or squeezing his arm, but he wasn’t expecting her to hug
him or want a picture of them together. Maybe she really is trying to
change. Maybe he should, too. He just can’t help being wary after
everything that has happened. It’s hard to forget when your parent has
basically ignored your existence for the last four years.
He had almost forgotten that they used to go bowling together a lot when he
was younger. His mom even taught him how. It is just easy to suppress the
good memories when there are so many shitty ones now. It reminds him of
how his mom used to be before he fucked everything up. She used to
vibrant and smiling. He gets a glimpse of that today, and he realizes he
missed it. His chest aches with it, wanting to see her like that more often.
Harry is learning to be happy again because of Louis. Maybe Robin is
doing the same thing for his Mom. They can’t keep ignoring the elephant in
the room, but for now it’s okay. He doesn’t think they will ever have the
kind of relationship they used to have, but that isn’t necessarily a bad thing.
Everyone grows up. Maybe she just wants to be a part of his life now. Who
he is now, and maybe he should let her try. Let her in again.
They spend the next hour and a half bowling and eating far too much pizza.
Anne wins the first and second round, and Harry wins the third. Robin takes
the losses smiling and laughing. Harry texts Louis throughout the first hour,
but Louis stopped responding after his last text. He is a bit concerned; they
usually text when they aren’t in school however he figures Louis is just
having fun with Niall and Liam. He wishes he could have gone and is
surprised by that thought. Harry has never wished to go to a social function,
but he will admit, begrudgingly of course, that he does enjoy hanging out
with Niall and even Laim now. Ever since Liam stood up for him at school,
things haven't been as tense between them. He definitely trusts him more
because Liam didn’t have to do that. Harry’s blood runs cold when he looks
down at his phone then, to find an urgent text from Louis lighting up his
screen.
____________
“So I am convinced that Bigfoot lives in the woods behind my house,” Niall
continues his story, his accent thick with his laughter, barely able to contain
it to get the tale out. Louis is laughing more at Niall than the actual story,
while Liam is just smiling, his brown eyes twinkling in the low light of the
diner. “So I get Harry to agree to go on a Bigfoot hunt with me even though
he is skeptical of his existence. Typical Harry.” Niall rolls his eyes fondly.
“Typical,” Louis agrees, then adds, “It’s hard to believe some of these
stories you are giving us about Haz.” It is hard to imagine Harry being a kid
just like he was, exploring the woods with Niall. He seemed to have been a
bit free spirited, having fun like any normal boy or girl their age would
have.
“I know! But I swear on my momma’s life that they are true. Anyways, I go
into my house to grab the poker from our old wood burnin’ stove for
protection. We didn’t use it no more since we got central heat, so I don’t
know what the fuck I was thinkin’. I guess in our nine-year-old brains, a
poker would be a good a weapon as any to battle a giant fuckin’ ape man.”
Niall uses his hands to gesture how big, prompting Louis to giggle. He
fucking loves Niall. Louis doesn't know what a ‘stove’ is, however, he
would guess it is sort of like a fireplace, given that it uses a poker, and he
mentioned central heating.
“Okay. Did you find him?” Liam asks, seemingly intrigued now.
“‘Course not,” Niall scoffs with another wide smile. “We did, however, see
a tree that we thought sorta kinda resembled a monster of some sort. I was
so worked up when we saw it, I turned and hightailed it at full speed down
the hill with Harry hot on my heels. I fell jabbin’ the poker into the ground.
The damn thing bent quicker than a one legged man in a butt kicking
competition. I hold it up to Harry, and of course, it is crookeder than a dog’s
hind leg. Now, I knew that my momma was gonna be madder than a wet
hen, and my dad was gonna whip me good because I already tore up his
tape measure the weekend before, so we decided that the best thing to do
with it would be to bury it in the backyard.”
Louis only understood about half of that. Jesus Christ, he really needs a
dictionary or for Harry to be here as a translator. Right about now he would
look at Harry who would whisper what Niall actually said to him. He thinks
he gets the gist. They got scared and ran down the hillside. Niall fell and
bent the poker. He knew it would piss his parents off, so they decided to
bury it. He has never in his life heard the phrase ‘tore up’ and is completely
at a loss for what it could mean. Maybe that something is broken? He
should have recorded the conversation to send to Harry. That would have
been super helpful.
“So we bury it in the backyard, and everything was fine for about two
weeks. Then my dad is out in the backyard fiddle dickin’ around, and trips
over a piece that we didn’t do a great job burying. He was fuckin’ pissed. I
swear he was spittin' fire he was so mad at me. I thought for sure I was
gonna be deader than a doornail. Harry wasn’t allowed to come to my house
for a week, and it was the summer! It felt like it was a month of Sundays
before I saw Harry again, I swear. Lookin’ back on it, the shit we used to
get into is funny as all get out,” Niall finishes, wiping the tears of laughter
from his eyes. Louis and Liam are both laughing too, although Louis is
laughing more at Niall’s choice of phrasing than the actual story. Who
comes up with this shit? Is his dad a dragon and that is how he spat fire?
And what the actual fuck is a doornail? Louis fiddles with dicks all the
time, but he is pretty sure that is not what Niall’s dad was doing at all.
“Niall, you are ridiculous,” Liam laughs, and Louis nods in agreement,
sending a text to Harry who seems to be having a great time bowling with
his mom and Robin. Louis still can’t believe Robin convinced his mom and
Mark to let him go on an overnight trip. Louis has never spent the night
away from his parents house. He wasn’t even allowed to go to friend’s
houses to spend the night, sleepovers being strictly forbidden. He is so
excited about it, he can barely contain himself.
“Well it’s been great guys, but I’ve gotta get going. I’m supposed to be
babysitting my niece in less than half an hour,” Niall says, looking down at
his watch then getting up. They paid their bill a while ago, so they just say
their goodbyes, as he leaves the table. It suddenly feels quiet without Niall’s
loud personality and big presence. Louis is getting ready to say that he
should be going, too, because it is getting late, and he is supposed to be
home by seven when Liam speaks up.
“Lou, can I ask you something?” Liam asks, and he suddenly looks nervous
which has Louis feeling like he has knots in his stomach. His tone gives
nothing away, but Louis has a bad feeling. Those words have never been
good to him. He sits up straighter, giving Liam his full, undivided attention.
Whatever it is Liam wants to ask him, it’s going to be important. Louis
swallows and nods, not trusting his voice. “What’s going on between you
and Harry?”
“What do you mean? We just have a relationship built on mutual respect.
We’re friends,” Louis lies trying to keep his voice light and to phrase it as if
he is confused deciding to play it dumb, but his blood is running cold and
his heart freezing. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This can’t be happening. Liam can’t
be asking this. He feels sick, both at the possibility of Liam finding out and
hating him, as well as the fact that he just lied to Liam’s face. He feels
guilty about it. Liam is his best friend, and he just lied to him when Liam
has been nothing but nice to him.
“Mutual respect? Seriously, Lou? That's what you choose to go with? That's
the biggest load of bullshit I've ever heard. Louis, please don’t lie to me. I
know there is something else,” Liam argues, looking into Louis’ eyes as if
he is seeing into his damned soul. He probably should have gone with
something better than mutual respect, but he panicked, the question coming
out of nowhere. Liam’s eyes are kind though, not at all accusing, but Louis
isn’t ready to say anything outloud.
“Nope. Nothing else.” The words taste sour and acidic on his tongue,
almost getting stuck in his throat. He decides to go on the defensive, feeling
as though he is backed into a corner. “What are you insinuating, Liam?” He
puts a bite to his tone, almost hissing out the question, but he can feel his
limbs shaking. He suddenly wishes Harry was here. Harry is really good at
diverting a conversation, and he could use a little diversion right about now.
“Look, Louis,” Liam starts, tone still soft and calm, as if he is placating a
wounded animal. “I’m not stupid. I am around you two all the time. I see
the prolonged touches, the fond looks, the shy smiles when you think no
one is paying attention. You are usually with him if you are not at home or
at school. You text him all the time. You pass notes in class and do all of
your assignments together. You don’t act like bros, and I can tell in the way
you look at each other that it is more than that. You also get really upset if
he is upset and are quick to defend him. While you are like that with all of
your friends, Harry just seems special to you. Hell, you don’t even tease
him the same way you tease us.”
“No,” Louis denies, the word barely audible over the sound of blood
rushing to his ears. He mostly says it to convince himself that this isn’t
happening and not that Liam is wrong. His hands are shaking and he feels
like he can’t breathe. As if the walls of the old diner are closing in around
him. How could he go from happily laughing at Niall one second to feeling
like his world is burning in the eternal fires of damnation the next? Liam
can’t know. He has to be able to convince him otherwise. Everything he just
said is speculation right? He doesn't have anything concrete.
“You don’t do any of those things with Willow. I don’t even think you see
her outside of school, do you? Other than your once weekly dinner with
your parents, but that doesn’t count. I haven't seen you do more than kiss
her on the cheek, and you've been dating for months, yet both you and
Harry have at least two hickies on your neck on any given day. When he
came to school wearing your shirt the other day, I put the pieces together. It
only makes sense. Is that why he got so upset with you when he found out
you were dating Willow? I assume, given how you act around both Willow
and Harry, that your relationship with Willow is fake, and she knows about
you and Harry? I know you aren't a bad person, Louis. I couldn't ever see
you leading anyone on like that and being okay with it. But given how upset
Harry looked that day, I can only assume he either didn't know ahead of
time or didn't take the news well. You and Harry both were a mess that
entire week, but then everything suddenly went back to normal like nothing
had happened. I can't imagine how hard all of this has been for you Louis.”
Fuck. He did have something concrete, something that could break him.
Louis feels like he has been thrown at a window. His whole body hurts, and
he is surprised he’s not somehow bleeding.
Louis is definitely going to be sick; the dinner he just ate threatening to

make a return like the second coming of Christ. The second coming of
chicken, who knew that would happen first? Fuck. He thought they were
more careful than that. Blinking back tears, the realization that he has been
caught sinks in his gut like a ship with a massive fucking hole. He wishes
he could turn back time and never have this conversation with Liam, but he
doesn’t have a fucking time turner. Shit. This is not the time for Harry
Potter references. His life is falling down around him. His relationship with
Harry is about to be taken away from him before he has even had a chance
to properly grasp it.
Things will never be the same again. Liam will probably hate him, go tell
his parents who will then in turn tell Louis’ parents, then he will be sent
away. He will never see Harry again. He lets a tear trail down his face at the
thought, dripping onto the surface of the table in front of him. His heart
feels like it’s breaking. This is it. The beginning of the end. He knew it
would have to happen eventually. It has been a ticking time bottom from the
beginning, both knowing the rug will be yanked out from under them
eventually. That this would be over unless Louis was willing to give up his
faith, and he isn’t sure if he can ever do that. It seems the decision has been
made for him, unless he can convince Liam to keep quiet. He needs to at
least try. Try to fight for this. To fight for Harry.
“Please don’t tell anyone. I’m begging you. I’ll do anything you want. I
promise. Please, just don’t tell on us. I-- I know it’s wrong and against
everything we believe in, but I-I just d-don’t want this to be over. Please,”
Louis sniffles, more tears tracking down his cheeks with his pleas. Liam
looks surprised, his dark brows hitting his hairline. Louis hopes that his
eyes convey how much this means to him, though. He just needs Liam to
stay quiet. He doesn't need him to be his friend anymore if he doesn't want
to. Louis knew he was going to lose him eventually anyway, either because
of his penchant for boys or his family moving. Everything hurts. He is
going to loose his best friend and possibly his Harry. He just wants to save
one of them, even though both would be preferable. It is just not an option
since Liam is most likely disgusted with him.
“Lou. Lou calm down. Louis, I need you to listen to me. Calm down,” Liam
soothes, placing a warm hand on Louis’ shaking ones. Louis is surprised
Liam even wants to be near him, let alone touch him. He may catch his
penchant for men or something equally as absurd if he isn't careful, but
Liam doesn’t pull away quickly, realizing his mistake like Louis
anticipated. Instead he pats his hands, shushing him. Louis shakes his head
though, wanting to pull away with the irrational thought that maybe Liam
could somehow catch this ‘disease’, as some would call it. He knows how
stupid that is, but it doesn’t stop his brain from forming the idiotic thoughts.
“I-I can’t. Please. You can hate me. I deserve it, but he doesn’t. He’s been
so happy lately, and I can’t take that away from him. I won’t, so please
don’t make me. I’m begging you. Please don't. Please. He needs me. I need
him. I’m not ready to lose him, yet. I- I lo…” the sentence trails off, the
unspoken words hitting Louis square in the chest, knocking any breath left
in his lungs out. More tears run down Louis’ cheeks, the salty water pooling
on the table below him. He can’t think about that right now. He needs to
convince Liam to not tell on them. He needs to bribe him or something.
Louis isn’t finished learning all there is to know from Harry yet. He’s not
done learning about Harry yet. He doesn’t even know why Harry has scars,
and he may never know now.
“Look, I’m not gonna tell anyone. I promise, so you don’t have to worry
about that,” Liam says his voice soft, his brown eyes wide with concern.
Louis must not have heard properly. There is no way Liam said what Louis
thinks he just said. Liam should hate him for what he is and who he wants.
Liam should be running off to tell his parents, so they can move him away
from the sin or worse. But Liam is staying across from Louis, looking at
him with tender eyes. Louis feels like this is a lie or a figment of his
delusional and somewhat desperate imagination.
“What?” Louis asks, not being able to quite believe it. He feels like his
brain has shut down, and he is living in a fantasy land. He has finally gone
crazy, his mind has finally snapped, because Liam can’t be serious. He can’t
be. There is no possible way Louis is going to leave this scenario with his
and Harry’s relationship still intact. There has be something else.
“I said, I’m not gonna tell anyone.” He can’t stop the relief that floods his
system like a warm shower. Liam isn’t going to tell on them. Holy fuck. His
heart starts beating again, and he feels like he can take air into his lungs for
the first time since the conversation began. He is still shaking, and he thinks
he is still crying, however he can’t be sure. He may still be in denial that
this is actually happening. That Liam has found out his secret and this isn’t
just a nightmare. It definitely feels like one. Everything around him feels
foggy and disoriented, kind of like a dream feels, but he knows this is real.
The sick feeling in his stomach is real.
“I don’t think any one else has noticed, except maybe Niall. I think in order
for people to really notice, they have to watch you two and most don’t.
Believe me when I say, I’m not gonna tell anyone,” Liam repeats, but there
has to be a catch right? Liam has to hate him or want something in return.
Liam wouldn’t just keep his secret out of the kindness of his heart,
especially one that he doesn't agree with, or he finds wrong.
“Do you hate me?” Louis asks, looking down at his fingers, picking the
cuticles nervously, just needing something to do with his hands. He doesn’t
even want to ask the question, but he feels like he needs to know. He needs
to hear it. If Liam hates him, then Louis is justified for hating himself.
Hating what he does when he knows it is wrong. Harry would argue that it
isn’t wrong, and maybe he’s right, however, Louis isn’t thinking about the
conversations he and Harry have had about religion. All he is thinking
about is Liam, and how Liam probably hates him. How this is a punishment
from God and a warning that he needs to change or he will lose everyone he
has ever cared about because of it, but he cares about Harry, too. A lot.
Possibly more than he cares about anyone else in the world.
“No, Louis. I could never hate you, regardless of your… preferences. The
Bible says love the sinner and hate the sin. Even though it condemns it, I
don’t think it’s bad nor does it change my faith in God. I am not gonna tell
you how to live your life, and I am not going to to judge you. I’ll save that
for God. I am just kind of hurt that you didn’t trust me enough to tell me,
but I could see why you didn’t. There are a lot of close minded people
around here,” Liam says, voice still soft as he tries to look into Louis’ eyes.
Louis finally meets the dark brown of his, only seeing kindness and honesty
there.
Louis wants to cry for a different reason now, but instead he wipes his eyes
and nose on a napkin, the evidence of his outburst disappearing with it. He
isn’t going to lose Harry. He isn’t going to lose Liam or his family. If Liam
can accept him, then maybe he can accept himself. Louis’ head is spinning,
and he is so fucking confused. One minute he hates himself and the next he
thinks he may be able to accept himself. He doesn't fucking know. He just
knows that he likes Harry. A lot. More than a lot and maybe even more than
likes, but is that enough? Is that enough to justify turning his back on God?
Is that enough to question if God is even real, or just some made up fairy
tale like Harry believes?
“Look. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Louis says, sighing, allowing some of
the tension to leave his body. “It wasn’t just my secret to tell though. Like it
is also Harry’s, and Harry isn’t very trusting, to put it lightly.” He chuckles
at that, Liam smiling, too, and he thinks everything may just be alright.
“I get it. I know Harry doesn't trust people easily, but I think I am starting to
win him over. Just, well you don’t have to hide around me anymore. I just
have a lot of questions,” Liam says, smiling at Louis. Louis returns it, not
being able to help himself. He didn’t realize how much not telling Liam was
weighing on his shoulders until after it was out in the open.
Louis then spends the next twenty minutes filling Liam in on everything,
including who knows about them and answering his seemingly endless
questions. He skims over a lot of details, ones that are Harry’s truths to tell
and not his, but by the end of it, he feels much better. Liam accepts him.
Liam who is religious and believes in God accepts him. After he leaves the
diner, he texts Harry telling him to call him ASAP, because holy fuck.
Chapter End Notes
As always, kudos and comments are always welcome. I can't believe
so many people are enjoying this story so far.
Nothing Else Matters
Chapter Summary
Harry has his first driving lesson, then the boys enjoy their time at the
concert.
Chapter Notes
I highly recommend listening to the playlist for this chapter, which is
linked below. Also, they get into a pretty heavy theological discussion
in this chapter. Not all points are going to be represented because I
could talk about religion for hours, and you all don't want to read all of
that. If you feel like something else should have been said, feel free to
DM me or something. I try to keep their conversations as organic as
possible. Most of what is said has been a conversation between myself
and someone else.
Trust I seek and I find in you
Every day for us something new
Open mind for a different view
And nothing else matters- Metallica
“Okay, Haz, now that you’ve moved the mirrors, all you have to do is put
the car into drive,” Louis instructs, smiling over at Harry who looks
nervous at being sat in the driver's seat of a vehicle for the first time. They
are on some graveled backroad in bum fuck nowhere that Louis didn’t
know existed, but Harry insists this is where everyone learns to drive. Louis
has no idea why anyone would want to learn to drive in a place that looks
like the set of Wrong Turn , but he went with it, taking Harry after school
one day. Louis is feeling nervous too, but he tries not to let on, not wanting
Harry to think he doesn’t trust him. It’s not that. Louis is kind of nervous
about the upcoming concert.
“Got it,” Harry responds, and with a shaky hand, he puts the car into drive.
Louis feels it shift into gear, the doors automatically locking with the
action. He watches Harry take a deep breath and close his eyes. He looks
pretty in the March sunlight that is filtering through the windows, and he
looks even better behind the wheel. The bastard smirked at Louis when he
had to move the seat back to accommodate his long legs. If Louis hadn’t
had those long legs wrapped around his face in the back stairwell of school
earlier that day, he would have punched him.
“Now ease down on the gas pedal slowly, that's it,” Louis says, jolting a bit
when he feels the car jerk forward. It's fine. That always happens when
people are learning to drive. Louis did the same thing himself. He wouldn’t
say he is a driving expert, but someone has to teach Harry. Louis is more
than happy to accommodate. He can feel the anxiety rolling off of Harry in
waves as the car slowly moves forward, the gravel crunching under the
tires. He needs to distract him from overthinking this too much, so he may
as well talk.
“I have never seen this part of the area before. It is quite pretty with the
trees blooming and the mountains,” Louis starts, taking a deep breath of the
crisp spring air. He has lived in a lot of places in his life, but he has never
appreciated the beauty of God’s creation like he has here.
“I always say I hate this town, but I do love the Mountains. It is amazing
how over the course of 480 million years, tectonic plates moved below the
Earth’s surface to create something so breathtaking,” Harry responds,
picking up the pace a bit, becoming more comfortable maneuvering the
vehicle around the winding back road. Louis can’t stop the next sentence
that comes out of his mouth.
“The preachers at my churches growing up always said the earth is only
6,000 years old,” Louis tells him, thinking back on the first time he had
heard that. At the time, 6,000 years seemed like a long time, but now that he
thinks about it, it really isn't.
“Do you really believe that?” Harry asks, glancing off the road quickly to
look at Louis. The question isn’t malicious, just curious, but Louis can
already feel himself getting defensive.
“Of course, I believed it when I was eight, but now I’m not so sure, I guess.
It does say in the Bible that the Earth was created in six days and on the
seventh, God rested,” Louis says, having read Genesis several times, and
knowing the creation story by heart.
“According to one of the creation stories, sure,” Harry confirms, and what
does he mean by ‘one’ of the creation stories? Maybe Louis misunderstood.
He ploughs on though with his original point.
“We don’t know how long a day is to God. For all we know, it could have
been billions of years, but man couldn’t comprehend that, at the time, so
they wrote a day.” Louis thinks it is a valid theory. He would like to see
how Harry responds to this one. There is no argument against it. It’s
interpretation afterall.
“If God was writing it through man, then he would have said billions of
years, not a single day. He would have clarified. They knew what a year
was. At the time, they didn’t have science, so they didn’t know that the
Earth was formed over billions of years. All they knew of was a day and a
year, so that is probably what they wrote. Wouldn’t that be more of the
logical explanation?” Harry asks, eyes on the road even though Louis
knows that Harry wants to despartley look in his direction.
“Turn here. Try a three point turn. Make sure to use your mirrors,” Louis
instructs, seeing the perfect spot for Harry to turn around to go back down
the small incline. They will repeat the process until Harry is comfortable
enough to go out on a more busy road. He talks Harry through the turn, then
goes back to the conversation at hand. “Like you said, they didn’t have
science. They couldn’t comprehend billions of years, so it would make
sense for them to put what they knew.”
“If you believe it that way, then you are admitting that the Bible, because it
was written by man, can be flawed if the man writing it interpreted God’s
word incorrectly. You can’t cherry pick what you choose to believe and not
to believe. It doesn’t work like that. If you think there was a
misunderstanding about how long a day is, then who is to say there aren’t
others in the Bible? Others that you have based your life around and you
condemn people for. If that’s the case, then how can you believe a single
thing that is written? How do you justify that?” Harry asks, and holy
fucking shit. Louis walked right into that one. Harry’s right, though. If
Louis chalked the day up to a misunderstanding, then who is to say the
person who wrote Leviticus didn’t misunderstand God’s word about
homosexuality? They could have easily only written what they
comprehended at the time.
“Still doesn’t change the fact that God created all of this.” Louis gestures to
the surrounding wooded area with the statement. He knows it’s weak, and
he knows he didn’t rebut Harry’s statement. He just doesn't know how, not
without either saying that the Bible is flawed and full of bullshit or stating
that he actually believed the Earth was created in seven days despite
scientific evidence that proves otherwise.
“There are two creation stories in Genesis, though,” Harry says, and Louis
freezes. What? His stomach drops. Shit. He thought he misunderstood
Harry’s statement the first time, but apparently not. He meant what he said.
There are two? How did he not know that?
“No there isn’t,” Louis insists, wracking his brain for the last time he read
that particular book. He is sure there is only one story though. He thought
he knew it by heart. Harry has to be wrong on this.
“Yes there is, Lou. They both sound very similar, but there are a few key
differences. In Genesis 1, God creates light and darkness first, then the
water and land. On day two, he creates the plant life. Day three is confusing
because he creates dark and light, again, and the stars, even though he
already made light, and dark on day one, and that is how the days are
established in the first place. Then on day four, five, and six, he created
ocean animals, animals on earth, and males and females in that order,”
Harry tells him, and Louis already knew all of this.
“Maybe it just means that he created the concept of night and day, but then
created the actual sun and moon on day three,” Louis points out, feeling
triumphant in his analysis.
“How can there be light without a sun? Louis it literally says ‘Let there be
light : and there was light. And God saw the light, that it was good: and
God divided the light from the darkness. And God called the light Day, and
the darkness he called Night. And the evening and the morning were the
first day’. Then in the very same chapter it says ‘ And God made two great
lights; the greater light to rule the day, and the lesser light to rule the night’,
” Harry quotes, and well fuck. Louis grabs his phone, quickly looking up
the first chapter of Genesis to see that Harry is correct. God made light on
the first day then again on day three. What the fuck?
“I would hardly call that two creation stories,” Louis responds, even though
his mind is spinning. Why would God create light twice? It doesn’t make
any sense, but one inconsistency doesn’t necessarily mean it is incorrect.
Right? But how did he miss that for all of these years? He knows he has
read that verse several times and has been to countless sermons on that
exact topic. How could none of those preachers mention this fact? Because
it goes against their narrative the voice in his head answers, a voice that
sounds suspiciously like Harry’s slow drawl.
“That is just Genesis 1. There is a second creation story in Genesis 2. It

starts right around verse 4; I believe. It begins with God creating man from
the dust of the earth, so not in his image as stated in the previous chapter.
Plants followed after, then animals, for which he allows Adam to name,
even though God already named whales, cattle, and fowls at that point,
according to Genesis 1. It is in a completely different order. He later divides
the man into male and female, using one of Adam's ribs. So he kind of
creates females twice. The first time, it says he created her with man and the
second he created her from man. Now, a lot of scholars actually believe that
Adam had two wives. Most call the first woman, created in Genesis 1,
Lilith. While she is never really mentioned in the Bible, she in mentioned in
other ancient Jewish text. Lilith, though, immediately didn’t like the role
she was given. She refused to submit to Adam and flew from the Garden
refusing to come back when God sent Angels to retrieve her. She is said to
have given birth to demons, so God made another woman, from Adam’s rib
this time, in hopes that since she was made from him, she would submit to
him,” Harry informs. Louis’ plan of distracting him seems to have worked.
Harry is a lot more comfortable now, and has been gaining speed. Not going
too fast, of course, but definitely more secure behind the wheel. Too bad
Louis wasn’t more secure in his faith. He is having quite the opposite
problem. He is shocked at the story of Lilith.
Louis knows he has heard the name Lilith, but he didn’t know that she was
considered to be Adam’s first wife. Louis is going to ignore that since she is
actually mentioned in the Bible, but as Harry has pointed out before, there
are a lot of texts that aren’t in the Bible simply because the church refused
to recognize them. He doesn't blame her for not wanting to submit to man.
Every single day, Louis sees his sisters are treated differently than him just
because they are women. Louis wants to ask more questions about Lilith,
but he doesn’t think his brain can handle it right now. Maybe he will just do
some research on his own.
“What you said about Lilith is interesting, but she isn’t mentioned in the
Bible at all. The stories are not too different, though. Like maybe the first
chapter is about how he created the heavens and the second his about how
he created the Earth,” Louis suggests, glancing back down at his phone to
read the words of the first chapter over again, then reading the second with
the same critical eye. A critical eye is something he has never turned on the
Bible. He isn’t sure he even believes his point, and he made it.
“Okay, we will ignore Lilith for now and just focus on the text at hand.
They may not be that different, but they are different. In the first one, I
don’t think he is referring to only creating the heavens since the author
included the creation of plants, animals, and man. That doesn’t make any
sense. Why would he create man in Heaven then also create him on Earth,
and tell him he has to be a good person to get into Heaven. God also created
them in different orders between Genesis 1 and 2. Genesis 1 had man being
the last creation while Genesis 2 said that man was created first. There are
so many inconsistencies in those two chapters alone. I mean, honestly the
literary style between both of the stories is totally different. The first is
organized and divided into days, while the second just says it happened.
Either way, there are two,” Harry concludes, taking a hand off of the wheel
for a second to hold up two long, ringed fingers before he quickly places it
back on the wheel. Louis looks down at his phone to read the second
chapter again while Harry waits patiently. Harry’s right. They are very
different, and it could easily be argued that there are two distinct stories.
Not for the first time, Louis has the feeling that his whole life has been a lie.
“I guess I see your point,” Louis concedes, and if he is slightly turned on by

Harry’s knowledge on the subject then no one needs to know. It is the first
time he has said that he sees Harry’s point outloud to Harry. The other boy
glances over at him, obviously surprised, before his green eyes quickly go
back to the road. He turns the car again and goes back up the hill with very
little instruction from Louis, but that is mostly because Louis’ mind is
somewhere else. “Someone had to start it right? A series of random events
couldn’t have created a universe. Like you don’t throw the pieces of a clock
on a desk and expect it to create a clock. Someone has to put it together. We
are the only life forms in the universe, so someone had to create us.”
“We are the only known life forms in the universe, but there billions of
planets and stars in our galaxy and billions of more galaxies. The universe
is never ending. Do you really think that we are the only planet within all of
that, that was able to sustain life? Just because we haven't found evidence of
other life yet, doesn’t mean it isn’t out there. As for your clock analogy, you
can. Statistically speaking, if you throw the pieces of a clock on a desk, they
will eventually land in a way to make a working clock. Why do we need
divine intervention for the universe to work properly when it can all be
explained with science?” Harry questions. Louis’ dick is hard. Harry using
big words just does something to him, but he shakes his head trying to focus
on the conversation and the question Harry just posed.
“What do you mean?” Louis asks for clarification. He isn't sure he

understood Harry’s question or maybe it’s just because all of the blood in
his body is running to the opposite direction of his brain. He has never
really thought about Aliens that way, but he supposes what Harry is saying
makes sense. Maybe they are out there, we just haven't discovered them yet.
There are billions of other planets in our galaxy alone, and scientist don’t
have the capabilities to visiting planets outside of our own galaxy.
“Well religion was created as a way for people to explain events that, at the
time, were unexplainable. Like if there was a drought, it wasn’t due to
temperatures increasing but due to God being angry. Mentally ill people
were oftentimes diagnosed with demonic possession. We know now, how
droughts are caused and how to properly treat the mentally ill, but at the
time, religion was used as a form of explanation. Why do we need religion
anymore when we have science?” Harry asks, and Louis understands now.
“Science can’t explain everything . There are people cured from ailments or
that have successful medical procedures every day that doctors said would
never happen,” Louis says, remembering hearing about that type of thing
when Mark watches preachers on TV.
“So you're telling me that someone who has a life saving procedure done
should be thanking God and not the doctors who did it? The doctors who
attended years of school, who along with the nurses and other staff, worked
tirelessly to save someone’s life?”
“Yeah. God probably helped them along. Watched over the procedure. He
even set the doctor and nurses on the path to the medical field because he
had a plan for them,” Louis tells him, knowing they already had the
conversation about ‘God’s plan’, but he still thinks his point is valid in this.
Just because the Doctor did the work, doesn’t mean that God didn’t have a
hand in it. Right?
“Louis you have completely discredited the doctors in all of this. The
doctors are the people doing the saving. If God was all powerful, then why
would he even need the doctors? Why not just cut out the middleman and
heal the person himself? What would be the point of science, if preachers
could heal people through God?” Harry asks, and shit. Those are good
questions. Louis had asked himself similar questions when it came to
Harry’s living situation. Louis’ head is spinning. Harry has a good point
about religion originally being used to explain phenomena before science,
but now that society has science, where does religion fall into all of that?
How many other inconsistencies are in the Bible that Louis never bothered
to look for? All because he believed every word blindly and every
interpretation of the words that the church gave him without question.
After that, Harry has mercy on him and changes the subject to the
upcoming concert for the rest of the driving lesson. By the end of it, Harry
is much more confident and can even pull off a three point turn. He is no
longer tapping his painted nails on the wheel nor is he stiff. He is more
relaxed and comfortable. Louis wishes he could say the same about how he
felt at church, but it feels like he is slipping.
___________
“Come on. This way, Haz,” Louis says, snapping Harry out of his panic. He
has never been in a city before. The tall buildings are making him feel both
claustrophobic and exposed. Despite it only being March, the black expanse
of the asphalt and sidewalk are hot. There isn’t the normal green that he is
used to or the smell of the outdoors, just buildings looming over him and
angry looking people as they walk to their destination. There are far too
many noises for Harry to make out an individual one, horns blaring, people
yelling, and the ticking of the crosswalk signs. He has never seen so many
traffic lights in his life.
“Coming,” Harry replies, swallowing around the lump in his throat. They
have already checked into the hotel which wasn’t terrible, but it is the walk
to the restaurant they are planning to have dinner at that is making Harry
feel sick. He tries to keep his head down and eyes trained on Louis’ feet as
they begin walking, Robin taking the lead, however his heart is racing, and
he can feel his limbs beginning to shake. He needs to hold it together. If he
is this bad now, then he doesn’t know what they are going to do when they
get to the actual concert. A stadium filled with 70,000 screaming people
sounds like a nightmare. The very thought makes his heart skip a beat. He
doesn’t think he has ever been around more than 3,000 people at once.
“What’s wrong, Haz?” Louis asks, and a moment later he can feel his hand
on his arm. Harry glances up, which is a mistake because they are
surrounded by people. Harry can barely see the sun, as it is tucked behind a
large, dark building with no name. He closes his eyes and opens them again,
trying to focus on Louis. His reaction is nothing short of embarrassing. He
is eighteen. He shouldn’t be freaking out over a big city, but he is.
“I’ve never been to a city before,” Harry whispers, eyes stinging with tears.
He knows it’s stupid and childish. Louis has probably lived in loads of
cities in his life, most likely even preferring them over the quiet country
roads that he grew up on. His senses are overwhelmed here, and all he
wants to do is curl up into a ball along the side of one of these ridiculously
enormous buildings, cover his ears, close his eyes, and rock back and forth.
He feels like he is suffocating, but there is literally nowhere to run. They are
surrounded, but at the same time he feels unprotected. As if everyone in the
world can see him. He has never felt like this before, and it is making him
feel dizzy, his stomach in knots.
“What? Really?” Louis’ tone isn’t mocking, just surprised. He is looking at

Harry with his brow creased in worry. They have stopped in the middle of
the sidewalk. Harry looks up to find Robin a few feet away, decidedly not
looking in their direction. Harry likes Robin. He thinks that Robin may
know something is going on between him and Louis, but he has never once
pried. He has also never asked Harry if he had a girlfriend, which Harry
appreciates. That was the only thing his mom’s other boyfriends ever talked
about: girls. Harry thought it was disgusting and couldn’t stand it, but Robin
is different.
“Yeah. I know it’s stupid.” Harry shakes his head, his curls bouncing up and
down with the movement as he looks down at their feet again. He hates
himself. He has never felt so small. Maybe he should just go back to the
hotel. This was probably a bad idea. He swallows again, but it does nothing
to wet his throat or help him breathe.
“Okay, love, just take a few deep breaths with me,” Louis says, pushing
Harry over to the side, against the cool surface of a building. Harry does as
instructed, taking a few deep breaths through his nose, releasing it out
through his mouth as Louis does it too. “It’s okay to be scared. Cities are
really overwhelming at first, but you’ll get used to it. I promise.”
“It’s just a lot,” Harry admits, wringing his hands together, playing with his
rings to keep Louis from noticing how shaky he is. If Louis does notice, he
doesn’t let on. Harry can tell by Louis’ posture that he wants to hold him,
probably run his fingers through his hair like he does when he is trying to
sooth Harry or get him to fall asleep, but Robin is only a few feet away
from them. He can’t. Harry knows it is killing him.
“I know, baby, but you can do this. You’re already here, may as well make
the most of it,” Louis reasons, and Harry knows he’s right. He’s come this
far. It’s only a few more hours, and he would never forgive himself if he
missed his favorite bands playing live because of his fears.
“I just… I know this sounds crazy, but we both know I am a little crazy,”
Harry starts, but Louis cuts him off with a smirk.
“The best kind of crazy.”
“I just feel vulnerable and confined. Like I can’t move, yet someone could
scoop me up with a fork at any moment,” Harry tries to explain, finally
looking up at Louis. He gives Louis a small smile to show he appreciates
Louis’ remark and the attempt to cheer him up.
“That makes sense. I get it, but you don’t have to feel like that. It’s okay
that you do, of course, but you’re safe with me and Robin. You know I
won’t let anything happen to you, baby,” Louis tells him, his blue eyes soft
and earnest. Harry focuses on those eyes, allowing himself to get lost in
them. Louis is his safety. He always feels that way when he is with Louis,
more secure than he has ever felt in his own home even. You’re supposed to
feel safe in your own home, but Harry only ever feels that way in Louis’
arms.
“Yeah. I can do this. I’m good,” Harry replies, taking a few more deep
breaths before he nods his head, stiffening his resolve. He gives Louis a
small smile before Louis’ mouth breaks into a proud grin, white teeth
gleaming in the afternoon light. He takes Harry’s breath away more than
any city on Earth could.
“That’s my boy,” Louis says, putting his arm around Harry’s waist,
sneaking it under Harry’s jacket, protectively, as they make their way
towards Robin. If Robin finds it odd, he doesn’t say anything or even
glance in the direction of Louis’ hand. He just smiles at them, stepping
away from his place against the building as well.
“You good, H?” Robin asks, looking at Harry with concern. Harry nods his
head in the affirmative, and together they walk to the restaurant. Louis was
right. Once Harry got a bit more used to the people and constant noise, it
wasn’t so bad. Louis does everything he can to distract Harry, making up
stories about people as they walk by, but his hand never leaves his waist.
“Is this the first time you have been away from your family over night,
Louis?” Robin asks, taking a sip of his beer as they wait for their food.
Harry glances over at Louis. They are sat in a booth together, Robin sitting
across from the pair which is perfectly fine by Harry since Louis’ small
hand hasn’t left his since they sat down. It may look strange that Harry is
only using his left hand while Louis is only using his right, but Robin hasn’t
commented.
“Yeah. It’s kind of nice though. I have never been able to do something with
just my friends because they didn’t trust me,” Louis says, taking a sip of his
drink through a straw, his firm lips wrapping around it. His cheeks are
hollowed just a bit from sucking, making his high cheekbones more
prominent. Harry’s cock twitches in his jeans. They are going to be alone
tonight in a hotel room with one bed because Robin said ‘a queen was
cheaper than two fulls, so I figured you boys wouldn’t mind sharing’. Harry
wants to kiss Robin sometimes.
“Harry, I have something I wanted to ask you about. Regardless of your

answer, I will still be here. This trip isn’t to bribe you or sweeten the deal. I
just thought it would be a good time while we were alone,” Robin starts,
and Harry freezes. He feels sick. What on Earth could Robin want to ask
him, and why did he preface it like that? He glances over at Louis who
squeezes his hand, silently communicating that he is there for him no matter
what. Harry is so thankful that Louis is with them.
“Okay,” Harry answers, swallowing thickly. He reaches for his pop, taking
a sip before sitting it back down on the table. His mind is running with
every possible scenario that he can think of that Robin would want to ask
him. Does he want to leave Anne? Is that what he wants to talk to Harry
about? Maybe he wants to tell him that it’s not his fault or some shit when
he knows perfectly well that it probably is his fault. Harry can’t stop the
disappointment that seeps into his body, settling heavy in his chest. Harry
told himself not to get attached to Robin. He knew this moment was
coming, but he couldn’t help it. Robin is just a great guy, but maybe not so
great since he is going to leave him like everyone else.
“I want to ask your mom to marry me, but I wanted your permission first,”
Robin says, and that is not what Harry was expecting, at all. What? Harry
must have heard wrong. Robin was supposed to tell him that he wants to
break up with Anne and leave his life forever, not marry her and officially
become a part of their broken family.
“What?” Harry asks, still not being able to actually comprehend what Robin
is saying. Why would anyone actually want to be in Harry’s life? Harry
glances over at Louis then, realizing that Louis wants to be in his life. Has
fought for it since he met Harry, so maybe Robin isn’t so different. He still
had to have heard wrong. Robin can’t want to actually marry his mother and
become a part of their fucked up family. He can’t. What kind of insane
person would want to do that?
“Like I’ve said before, I don’t want to replace your Dad, Harry, but I love
you and your mom and sister. I want to be a part of your family, officially.
However, she is your mom, so if you don’t want me to ask her, I won’t. I
won’t break it off or anything. I will continue to be around until you change
your mind or until I’m dead, whichever comes first,” Robin responds with a
shrug. Holy shit. He’s fucking serious. He wants to marry Anne. He wants
to be Harry’s step dad, and he is asking his permission to do so as if he
respects him and his opinions. He said he loves Harry. How is that possible?
How could he love a kid that isn’t his and is nothing but a disappointment?
Harry thinks about the past few months since Robin came into his room to
have a conversation with him after that disastrous dinner. Harry said he
would think about trying, and he did. He thought about it a lot, and he
thinks he has tried. Robin and his mom have, too. Things aren’t perfect, but
they are better. The relationship with his mom is leaps and bounds better
than it was even a few months ago. They can stand to be in the same room
with each other and talk without arguing. She touches him now and smiles a
lot more. It almost reminds him of how things used to be, but they still
don’t address the issues. They still don’t talk about what happened which
makes things feel strained. Maybe she isn’t ready for that, yet. Harry doesn't
think he is ready either, but maybe they can get there, together, with the
help of Robin.
“Yeah. Okay, you can ask her to marry you,” Harry says, coming to a
decision. He nods a few times at Robin, and Louis squeezes his hand,
telling him he agrees with Harry’s choice. Robin in beaming at him as if
Harry made his whole fucking day. Maybe he did. Maybe he does
legitimately want to be apart of Harry and Anne’s life. Harry won’t admit it
out loud yet, but he wants Robin to be a part of their lives, too. Things have
been so much better since he came around. He makes her happy and who is
Harry to deny her happiness? He doesn't always like his mom, but he loves
her. He may have just a tiny bit of hope that things can get better between
them like they have been. Maybe they can be close again. Maybe.
“Now I just need to ask Gem,” Robin says, taking another sip of his beer,
smiling around the opening.
“She’ll be okay with it,” Harry tells him honestly, having talked to Gemma
about Robin on several occasions. Gemma continuously tells him to give
Robin a chance, much like Louis. They are a lot a like, so it’s no surprise
they got on so well when they met on his birthday. Niall also said the same
thing. He is glad, now, that he gave Robin a chance. Robin has even been
teaching him to play guitar. He can play three songs now, one being a very
shaky version of a Metallica song. He has also taken him driving once since
his initial driving lesson with Louis a couple of weeks back. He almost feels
like his dad, and it is strange to Harry. He doesn’t remember how to have a
dad, but he is starting to think that maybe he can.
“Yeah. I figured you’d be the hard one to convince, so that’s why I started
with you,” Robin replies, smiling at the waitress when she sits their food
down in front of them. Louis’ hand immediately goes to Harry’s plate,
stealing one of his onion rings and plopping it in his mouth instead of one
of his own fries. Harry just smirks at him, far too used to his antics now.
Louis eats more of Harry’s food than he does his own during lunch, but
Harry can’t say much since he picks off of Louis’ plate too.
“So how are you gonna do it?” Louis asks, finally piping into the
conversation. Harry isn’t shocked that he hasn’t spoken yet. Louis didn’t
want to interrupt something that Robin clearly wanted to speak to Harry
about. Harry uses that moment to take a fry from Louis’ plate, dipping it
into the side of ranch Louis ordered before he plops it into his mouth,
chewing as he waits for Robin to answer.
“I don’t know, honestly. Got any ideas?” Robin answers his question with
one of his own, a smile on his face as he cuts a piece of his steak off to dip
in A1. Robin is actually asking if Harry has ideas on how to ask his mom to
marry him. What the actual fuck? Why would anyone want Harry’s opinion
on this? Louis is looking up into the air, as if in thought, his burger hanging
from one hand. “I was thinking about maybe taking her to our favorite
restaurant.”
“Nah. That’s too cliche,” Louis says, taking a large bite of his burger while
Harry steals another fry. Louis just rolls his eyes and smiles at Harry around
a mouthful of food. Harry nods in agreement, chewing as he thinks.
“How did you all meet?” Louis asks, sitting down his burger.
“He was a regular at the restaurant she works at. He always asked to be
seated in her section and flirted with her, but apparently she was having
none of it. After like a solid two months, he finally got her to agree to a
date,” Harry tells him, smiling at Robin as he does so. He hadn't known the
exact details either, until a few weeks ago when he’d finally got curious and
asked them during dinner one night. They all try to have dinner together at
least once a week now. It’s odd, but Harry isn’t really complaining. His
mom cooks, and some days he even helps her.
“That sounds strangely familiar,” Louis says, grinning at Harry and
elbowing him in the ribs. Harry smiles back with a laugh. He knows they
are being obvious in front of Robin, but he can’t find it in him to care. He is
happy. He is with Louis, and Robin is taking them to see some of Harry’s
favorite bands. He doesn’t want to hide everything. Robin also doesn’t
seem to care. In fact, he is just smiling at their antics, almost proud. “Maybe
you can do something at the restaurant.”
“Yeah. That could work. I just don’t know what,” Robin responds eating
some of his mashed potatoes. A quiet settles over the table as they eat and
think.
“I’ve got it,” Harry says finally, an idea popping into his head. His heart
begins beating with excitement, blood rushing through his veins at light
speed. It could work. He just hopes Robin likes it. “Maybe you could go
there for breakfast or something. You said you always ordered coffee when
you were trying to see her. Maybe you can get one of those temperature
changing mugs. You know, the kind that if you pour something hot into it, it
changes. Get one that looks like the mugs at the place she works. So when
you pour your coffee, have it facing her. When the cup gets hot, the
question ‘Will You Marry Me?’ will appear, then take a sip so that she sees
the message.”
Harry watches Robin’s face as he considers the idea. He is nervous. He

wants him to like the idea for some reason. After what feels like an eternity
when it was probably closer to twenty three seconds, Robin’s face splits
into a wide grin. He feels a smack on his shoulder, prompting him to glance
over at Louis who is grinning as well. “That’s perfect, Harry! I love it!”
Robin exclaims, reaching across the table to clap him on the shoulder.
“It really is. Ties them back to how they met, and it’s original. I had no idea
you were so romantic,” Louis says, and Harry can feel the blush creeping
on to his cheeks at both the praise and Louis’ comment. Harry didn't know
he could be romantic either, but he guesses he learns something new every
day. He hopes that Louis still thinks so tonight when they get back to the
hotel. Harry is nervous, but he thinks Louis will like the surprise he has
planned for him. He thinks he is ready.
They spend the rest of dinner talking about the proposal, Robin telling them
he doesn't want a long engagement. Harry doesn’t foresee his mom wanting
one either, so he doesn’t think that will be an issue. It is kind of exciting,
but also terrifying. It’s a change. Something changing that Harry wasn’t
expecting and doesn’t know if he will like. His mom will probably move in
with Robin, his house being much nicer. Would Robin want Harry to move
in as well, until he gets to college?
__________
“Are you sure I look okay?” Louis asks, looking around at the sea of people
dressed in black clothes, silver piercings gleaming in the low light of the
stadium. A lot of them have tattoos and random colored hair with painted
nails, but despite their scary appearance, they are all smiling and talking
happily. Robin bought them each a tour t-shirt of their choice, also buying
one for himself, and Louis is feeling nervous as they head for the pit. He
sticks out like a sore thumb despite the fact that he is currently wearing one
of Harry’s old band t-shirts. He also borrowed a pair of Harry’s black
skinny jeans for the occasion, rolling them up.
He has to admit; he likes the way he looks in them. Harry had barely been
able to keep his hands to himself when they went back to the hotel room to
change, admiring his ass in the tight jeans. He also has the sneaking
suspicion that Harry likes the fact that Louis is wearing his clothes. Louis
can’t blame him; he loves it when Harry wears his clothes, too. It does
something to him, but it is also doing something to him to wear Harry’s
dark clothes, his smell seeping into Louis’ every pore, making his dick
slightly stiff, which he can’t afford in these jeans. They are definitely tighter
than anything Louis has ever worn before, hugging his curvy frame
perfectly. Maybe he will get a pair when he gets to college and not under
the thumb of his parents.
“You look great,” Harry replies with a smile, his green eyes lined in black.
Harry has also donned black lipstick for the occasion, making his teeth look
even whiter. Louis never thought he would find black lipstick on a boy hot,
but here he is, wanting nothing more than to see those very same dark lips
wrapped around his dick as he chokes on it. Louis blinks his eyes, trying to
snap out of it because, as already established, he cannot afford to get hard in
these pants. How Harry manages to conceal anything is beyond him. What’s
the line from that Disney movie? Conceal don’t feel? Maybe that’s Harry’s
motto. Louis needs to live by that shit tonight because holy shit, if he isn’t
careful a shit ton of metal heads are going get an eyeful. He knows he isn’t
supposed to let them know, but they will know if he doesn’t stop imagining
Harry’s black lips on various parts of his body.
“Thank you,” Louis mummers, pulling down his shirt even though it is far
too big on him. The neckline exposes his sharp collar bones as he does so,
Harry’s eyes automatically going to them. Harry definitely has a thing for
Louis’ collarbones… noted. He can tell that Harry wants to kiss him; Harry
even leans in to do so before he thinks better of it, Robin being nearby and
all. Louis isn’t sure Robin cares, though. The man has been dropping hints
that he knows there is something more between Louis and Harry all night,
but Louis isn’t going to push Harry to share something he may not be ready
for.
“You boys hang on to each other and follow me,” Robin instructs, waving
his hand. Louis grins at Harry, looking down to find familiar black painted
nails and rings on long fingers. He entwines those fingers with his and
follows Robin through the crowd. Louis is so proud of Harry for how well
he has done so far, but this is a lot, even for Louis. Louis had no idea this
would be Harry’s first time in a city. He probably hasn’t ever been around
this many people in his life.
“Lou,” Harry whispers, his voice low and wavering. Louis looks over at
him and recognizes the trapped look in his eyes. He needs to intervene
quickly, or this is going to be an issue. He will be damned if Harry’s night is
ruined. They are almost clear of the crowd, he just needs to get Harry there.
He grabs him and pulls him, so that he is mostly in front of his body,
wrapping one arm around Harry’s waist. His hand is resting on Harry’s
belly so that he can make sure his breathing is mostly normal. The other
hand, he uses to squeeze Harry’s shoulder, moving it to the side every now
and again to keep the people at bay. He widens his stance, attempting to
keep Harry’s feet between his own, so he doesn’t feel other concert goers as
they step around him. He tries to keep his hold gentle, not wanting Harry to
feel restrained while his eyes stay trained on Harry’s face, even though the
other boy is much taller than him. He just needs to gauge how he is doing,
and if Louis is going to need to start actually pushing people out of the way
because he will fucking do it to keep Harry safe.
“You good?” Louis asks, feeling Harry’s body relax once they break the
crowd. He hopes that Harry will be too distracted by the excitement of the
concert when they get into the pit to freak out. Harry nods a few times, then
Louis grabs his hand to continue following Robin through a much less
crowded area. They show their passes to the attendees, gaining entrance
into the pit. Thankfully, they are relatively early, so there isn’t a shit ton of
people standing around. They get as close as they can, and Louis is
beginning to feel excited. He has never been to an actual concert before. He
also genuinely likes a lot of the music that will be played now that he has
actually listened to it.
They stand around and talk amongst themselves until In This Moment
comes on stage, getting the crowd hyped up and ready. Louis can see why
Harry likes them so much. There are a lot of religious undertones to their
songs, and their performance on stage is very theatrical, the lead singer
mesmerizing. Louis is shocked to find that he knows most of their songs,
fist moving to the beat of the music in the arena. The pit still isn’t full.
Louis suspects more people will show up once the concert gets nearer to the
headlining act. He glances around, seeing Robin is in front of them
watching the show, so he grabs Harry’s hips, pulling him back so that they
are lined with his own.
“This next song is called Oh Lord, from our new album. So sing along if
you know it!” The lead singer says, once the notes of the last song die
down. Yes! Louis loves this song. It is probably his favorite of all the songs
Harry put on the play list. He pulls Harry closer to him and begins swaying
his hips to the beat of the music, while he sings the words into Harry’s ear.
Oh Lord won't you save me

Save me from myself
Oh Lord won't you forgive me
For I have lost control
Oh Lord won't you tell me
Am I the righteous or the damned?
Oh Lord won't you please hear me
Do I obey or do I command?
Oh oh (Exorcise the demon)
Oh oh (Save my soul)
Oh Lord can't you save me from my twisted little mind
Oh Lord won't you please show me how to turn the water to wine
Oh Lord won't show me
Am I the sinner or the saint
Oh Lord won't you please tell me was all my suffering in vain
Oh oh (catch the devil, why)

Oh God have mercy on me
Hold me down under holy water
I fear I been laying with the devil
I been laying with the devil
Oh Lord please forgive me for what I'm about to do
Oh Lord won't you believe me I burn in hell for you
Oh Lord won't you teach me
Teach me how to see
Oh Lord tell me you love me
Am I Lillith or am I Eve
I been laying with the devil (save my soul)
Oh oh God have mercy on me

Louis’ dick is impossibly hard as it rubs against Harry’s perky ass in his too
tight jeans. Harry looking over his shoulder, a small smile playing on his
black painted lips isn’t helping matters. His eyes look ever more green with
the black eyeliner surrounding them. His knees are bent, so that his ass is
perfectly aligning with Louis’ crotch as he grinds against him, threading
their fingers together on his hips. He is going to be lucky to survive this
concert without coming in his jeans at the rate they are going. Does Harry
have any idea how incredibly sexy he is?
The next band, Volbeat, takes the stage, the lead singer’s accent is thick, but
Louis can mostly understand him. Louis was shocked when he first heard
their music. It is almost a mix of old country and rock, and Louis didn’t
know the genres could mix so effortlessly. Louis continues to sing some of
the lyrics to Harry, as they dance. The devil’s spawn no longer breathes;
descending angels and fallen kings. They gathered children outside the
church; and never would they know what went on there.
He can feel the excitement coming off of Harry in waves as they get closer
to seeing Metallica, even though Harry loves the other bands. Robin has left
them alone for the most part, only glancing back at them periodically to
make sure they are still there. He doesn’t even bat an eye when he sees
Harry grinding on Louis. Louis’ dick has been hard through two sets now,
and he doesn't think that is going to change through the next two either.
Harry screams when Disturbed take the stage, more people gathering
around to do the same.
Harry gets back into their previous position, Louis not even having to
prompt him this time. Harry has to know how hard Louis is. There is no
way he doesn’t since Louis has been nestled against his crack the entire
fucking show. His dick is now throbbing, his balls are probably the same
shade as his eyes. Harry is teasing him, and Louis can’t bring himself to be
mad at him. Louis would gladly have blue balls for the rest of his life if that
meant he got to continue to see this side of Harry. The more confident and
playful side.
When the demon that's inside you is ready to begin
And it feels like it's a battle that you will never win
When you're aching for the fire and begging for your sin
When there's nothing left inside, there's still a reason to fight
Louis means the words he is singing, hoping Harry understands what he is

trying to say through the words of another. He knows that Harry has his
demons. They both do, but he will continue to be by Harry’s side to help
him fight.
I won’t give up, so don’t give in

You’ve fallen down, but you will rise again.
I won’t give up
Thankfully Louis’ hard on is starting go away with the slow pace of the
song, the two boy’s swaying back and forth with their phones up in the air.
Louis kissing Harry’s cheek between the bridge and the chorus; he can feel
Harry smiling into it.
Don't let it take your soul

Look at me take control
When knowing to fight this war
This is nothing worth dying for
Are you ready to begin?

This is a battle that we are gonna win
The feeling in Louis’ chest feels like it is crushing him as the lyrics slip
from his lips. He doesn't want to lose Harry ever. He wants to win this battle
within himself. He wants Harry to win whatever internal battle he is
fighting as well. They may be broken and damned, but together they will
find a way. A way to fight and win their battles, hand in hand. Louis wants
to cry, the lyrics of the song so powerful, touching him in a way that no
other song has. He has heard it before, obviously, but it is a completely
different experience having Harry in his arms and listening to it live, the
deep voice of the lead singer drifting around the stadium.
Louis feels like this is a religious experience more so than he has ever had
in church, as the music flows through his system, into his very soul. His
heart beats to the same rhythm as the song, his entire being moved by it. He
had no idea that music could affect him so much, but it has. He has never
felt this way during a church service or during one of the songs that they
sing during church that makes people scream and cry. I’ll be your reason to
fight; give you a reason to fight, Louis finishes, the song coming to an end
while he blinks back tears. He has no idea if Harry is affected the same way,
but he thinks he can hear him sniffling as well.
Finally, Metallica’s intro music starts to play, the visuals of an old western
taking over the screen, images of crosses and gravestones dotting the giant
screen, and Louis is worried Harry is going to jump out of his skin with
elation. His smile is wide, both dimples popping as he jumps up and down
screaming like a teenage girl at a boy band concert. Louis thinks he is going
to cry, seeing his idols on stage, and he couldn’t be happier for him.
Louis didn’t grow up listening to this group, but they have obviously been a
huge part of Harry’s life, having gotten him through some difficult times.
Louis doesn’t know if he has a group like that, but maybe he will someday
when he is able to discover and listen to music he has an interest in. He
knows for a fact that he could see all of these bands becoming important to
him because of, if nothing else, this memory. The entire stadium erupts into
screams when the music picks up, the band playing their instruments. Louis
gets chills; he feels like all 70,000 people’s hearts are beating as one with
the pulse of the drums.
What I've felt
What I've known
Never shined through in what I've shown
Never free
Never me
So I dub thee unforgiven
The song is slow, much like the Disturbed song Louis sang to Harry. He
looks around for a moment, seeing thousands of flashlights or lighters on
around them, glimmering like fireflies in the dark. The atmosphere in the
stadium is electrifying, and to think Louis was somewhat scared of these
people before due to how they looked. He will never make that mistake
again because they all have one unifying thing in common. They are all
moved by these lyrics and the bands that have taken the stage. Louis closes
his eyes and takes a deep breath, hoping to soak some of it up forever.
They dedicate their lives,

To running all of his
He tries to please them all
This bitter man he is
Throughout his life the same
He's battled constantly
This fight he cannot win
A tired man they see no longer cares
The old man then prepares
To die regretfully
That old man here is me
He can feel the chills on Harry’s skin as they sing the rest of the song, their
hips swaying to the gentle drums and base line while their voices blend
together effortlessly. Louis’ dick is back to being hard, Harry’s bum rubbing
on him with each sway. Jesus fucking Christ how does Harry stand to wear
such tight jeans? How the fuck does he conceal an erection in these? Louis
has the urge to adjust himself, but Harry would surely notice seeing as his
back has been pressed against Louis’ front since the beginning of the
concert.
When Metallica begins to play their encore, a tall man steps in front of
Louis and Harry. Harry can see over him, but Louis is too short. Without a
word, Harry pulls Louis in front him, a moment later, hoisting Louis upon
his shoulders. Louis screams, gripping Harry’s outstretched hands for
balance, the erection he has been sporting on and off for a few hours
pressing against the back of Harry’s head. Harry smiles up at him, then
looks back to the stage, banging his head along to the beat.
Before they know it, Metallica has left the stage for a final time after
throwing picks and drum sticks into the crowd. Louis caught a pick for
Harry, but he hasn’t told him yet, looking forward to surprising him when
they get back to their room. Louis feels sad when the people around them
begin to disperse, sliding down Harry’s long, lean body. He feels like a part
of him left with the bands on stage, as if he lived through something life
altering that he will never, ever forget. His ears are ringing and his heart is
beating quickly, the blood in his veins feeling as though it is moving at light
speed.
Thankfully the walk back to the hotel is quiet and quick. They say
goodnight to Robin as they head to their room, unlocking the door and
quickly stepping inside. The room is small and standard. A queen bed, a
TV, a desk, and a bathroom. It will do. The room feels overly quiet
compared to the noise of the concert and the chatter of fans afterwards.
Harry seemed okay as they walked through the crowd to get out of the
stadium, but he can tell he feels better now that they are alone, his body
much more relaxed.
“I’m gonna go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back,” Harry tells him with a
shy smile then leaves. He seems nervous again, but Louis chalks it up to
their first night alone in a hotel room. Their first real night alone, period.
They don’t have to wake up early and sneak out before the ass crack of
dawn, or fear getting caught in bed together. Louis is excited but also fairly
nervous, too, about the proposition. He lays down on the bed, fully dressed
after he discards his shoes while he waits for Harry. A few minutes later, he
hears the bathroom door open, bringing his attention to Harry who walks
out. Louis stops moving. He stops breathing. His brain is no longer
working. Holy hell.
Harry still has his makeup on, his eyes and lips painted black to match the
color on his nails. The silver of his rings, necklaces and details of his
bracelets glint in the soft light of the room, but that isn't what Louis is
focusing on right now. No. His focus is on Harry’s chest, the number 28 in
large blue, blocked letters imprinted on the jersey. Louis’ jersey. It is tight
on him, hugging his lean muscles and coming down to his hips, touching
his hard exposed dick. Harry is wearing nothing but Louis’ jersey it seems,
and Louis definitely can’t breathe. He thinks he is dying.
Harry’s eyes are cast down, looking at his pigeon toed feet as Louis takes in
the sight, attempting to swallow down the dryness in his throat. Holy
fucking shit. Harry can’t be real right now. His pale skin almost looks
translucent as he begins to slowly walk toward the bed, his hard dick
bobbing with the action. Louis licks his overly dry lips, suddenly hungry for
Harry. It seems like it takes a millennia for Harry’s long legs to carry him to
Louis, the steps barely audible over the sound of blood rushing to Louis
ears and dick.
Louis can’t take it any longer. He can’t wait for Harry to get there, so he
stands up and grabs Harry, pulling him down in a punishing kiss. Harry fists
the material of his shirt at the small of his back, moaning into it. Louis
probably has black lipstick all over his face, but he can’t find it in him to
fucking care right now. Not when Harry looks like every dude in a goth
kid’s spank bank while wearing his jersey. The very same jersey Louis was
wearing when they first kissed. He feels Harry’s hand palm on the bulge in
his jeans, then quickly undoes the button and zipper, pulling them down just
enough for Louis’ erection to spring free. Louis pushes Harry down on the
bed, but Harry looks confused.
“Hands and knees,” Louis instructs, his voice high and raspy, yet
commanding. Harry scrambles to do so, the angle almost perfect. Harry will
just have to bend his elbows a bit to accommodate. He looks up to find a
mirror poised behind Harry, giving Louis the perfect view of his pale ass
and dry, tight hole. Louis isn’t going to make it. He reaches into his tight
pocket holding up the black guitar pick that he retrieved. Harry looks
confused for a second before his eyes widen in realization, putting the
pieces together.
“Is that?” Harry asks on the a breath, gesturing towards the item. He looks
in awe, his green eyes wide, his mouth open just enough for Louis to see the
red of his natural lip color contrasting with the black. He looks so sexy,
Louis feels like his balls are going to explode at any moment now.
“Yup,” Louis confirms with a nod, popping the ‘p’. “It’s yours, you just
have to get it.” Louis then places the pick at the base of his dick, balancing
it on his heated skin. Harry’s eyes widen even more. “Without using your
hands,” Louis adds, with a smirk. Harry licks his lips, the black lipstick not
budging with the action. It is then Louis realizes that it must be transfer
proof or resistant. It’s isn’t even smeared from their makeout session just
moments ago. Interesting.
Louis cards his fingers through Harry’s curls as Harry leans in, bending his
elbows, giving Louis the perfect view of ‘TOMLINSON’ painted in big,
bold blue letters across his back, Louis’ football number right below it. He
isn't sure whether to look at the image in the mirror or the actual thing, so
he allows his eyes to bob back and forth, getting the best of both worlds. It
shouldn’t turn Louis on as much as it does, but he almost comes at the sight.
His name on Harry’s back while Harry bends to suck him off will be
something Louis will never ever forget. Harry bows his back, pushing his
perky bare ass into the air, then Louis feels his breath on his dick a moment
later. Harry licks the head, teasing him before he takes it into his mouth,
Louis hisses out a breath. It is gone before Louis can even enjoy it. He
looks down to find Harry tilting his head to the side, using his big lips to
grasp the pick, taking it off Louis’ shaft.
“I win,” Harry says, the pick held between his teeth, while Louis exclaims,
“You little shit.” Harry giggles, actually giggles, and smiles up at Louis, a
mischievous glint in his eyes as he uses his fingers to take the pick out of
his mouth, placing it safely on the nightstand. Louis sighs, fisting Harry’s
curls to bring him back down to his dick, Harry going easily. He feeds his
length through Harry’s black painted lips, the site almost doing him in. He
has imagined what those lips would look like wrapped around his dick all
night, but seeing it is a whole different experience. Louis almost wishes
there was a ring of residue left every time Harry sinks down, his mouth hot
and wet. Holy fucking shit.
“You look so good in my jersey, baby. Fits you perfectly,” Louis says,
needing to talk, or he will come. He feels it when Harry presses something
cool into his free hand. He looks down to find a bottle of lube there, Harry
looking at him with too green eyes and a dick in his mouth. He nods his
head and sticks his ass up further into the air, the jersey falling down his
hips a bit more with the action. He can’t be fucking serious. Holy shit.
Harry wants Louis to finger him while he sucks him off. Louis gives him a
look as if to say ‘are you sure’, and Harry moans in confirmation, sinking
deeper. Well alright. With shaking hands, Louis uncaps the top of the lube,
squeezing a generous amount on to his fingers.
“Wanna wear it at school, hmm? Want everyone to know who you belong
to? Who’s name you are wearing on your back for all to see?” Louis asks,
Harry moaning around his shaft apparently liking the idea just as much as
Louis. Louis can almost picture it. Harry walking around school wearing
Louis’ jersey and his tight skinny jeans. Everyone would know then who he
is with. Who is responsible for marking his neck and making him happier.
He wouldn’t have to hide it anymore. He could show off the relationship
that he is proud of, tell everyone how proud of Harry he is. When Harry
moans again, he snaps out of his fantasy, remembering he is supposed to be
fingering Harry.
“You want my fingers in you, don’t you? You like the way they fill you up.”
He uses the mirror as a reference, being able to see what he is doing with it.
Harry moans when Louis traces his puckered hole, his dick hanging heavily
between his legs, as he slips the tip of his finger in easily. They have done
this before on several occasions now, and Harry seems to enjoy it therefore
he isn’t really all that surprised by Harry’s request. Louis watches Harry’s
hole stretch around his fingers as he works up to two, scissoring them to
stretch him even more, as if there is a purpose to this. Harry continues to
moan loudly around his dick, sending vibrations through Louis’ whole body
like the bass at the concert just hours before.
“You’re so fucking tight,” Louis says, remembering he has a voice as he

crooks his fingers, grazing Harry’s prostate. Harry, in return, bucks his hips
back, grinding on Louis’ fingers while not releasing his cock. It’s obscene
the way Louis’ last name across Harry’s shoulder blades moves with their
ministrations. Louis has no idea how he hasn’t come yet, everything feeling
like too much yet not enough. He makes an executive decision to use the
fingers in Harry’s dark hair to pull his head off his dick, bringing him eye
level. Harry gasps for air, his eyes wide in surprise, Louis doesn’t remove
his fingers as he gets on the bed, knee walking over to Harry.
“What do you want?” Louis whispers against Harry’s mouth, then kisses
him before he gives him a chance to answer, delving his tongue between his
sinful lips. The kiss is messy, all teeth, spit, and moans while Louis
continues to press his fingers inside Harry, wanting desperately to add a
third. He breaks the kiss with an obscene pop, looking into Harry’s eyes
waiting for an answer. Harry looks like he is thinking about it, eyes darting
all over Louis’ face. He bites his lip, as if he knows what he wants to say,
but he is afraid to say it. Louis cups his sharp jaw, in hopes that it will give
him the strength to say whatever he is thinking.
“I want you inside me,” Harry tells him, looking down with the admission.
All of the breath leaves Louis’ body with the muttered sentence. He hadn’t
even realized the was holding his breath until that very moment, and he is
still sure he misheard. Harry can’t have said what he thinks he said. Louis’
dick though, thinks he heard correctly because now it is painfully throbbing
between his legs. As if Harry is reading his mind, he says, “I want to
bottom. I want to try it. I want to feel you, Lou.” His voice is impossibly
deep and gravelly, the words sounding as if they were put through a grinder
before the were even allowed to leave his chest.
“Okay, if you're sure,” Louis says, and Harry nods quickly in the
affirmative, bringing his plump bottom lip between his teeth, the black
making them look even whiter. Louis’ chest is aching, his heart feeling as if
it is about to burst out of his rib cage and attach to Harry forever. He is sure
if this were a cartoon, that is exactly what would happen. He looks into
Harry’s eyes, not seeing any hesitation or doubt there, so he adds a third
finger, Harry feeling impossibly tight around him. He doesn't want to hurt
him, though, so Harry needs to be ready. Harry hisses out a breath in
surprise, his eyes closed in pleasure. Louis can’t help but kiss him gently,
pressing his fingers in deeper. They continue to kiss, the movements slow
and unrushed as Louis fingers Harry open. Eventually, Harry begins to pant,
grinding down on his digits wanting more.
“Ready for me, baby? Are you ready for my dick?” Louis asks, a thrill
going up his spine followed by gut wrenching nerves. He hasn’t topped in a
long fucking time. He doesn't even remember the last time he has topped,
but he wants this to be a good experience for Harry. Not every guy likes it,
and that’s okay, however Louis really wants Harry to like it. He is also
proud of Harry for even wanting to try it out, most guys automatically
dismissing the idea.
“Fuck. Please, Lou,” Harry begs, eyes wide and pleading. He already looks
fucked out. His curls are a mess from Louis constant grip. His green eyes
are dilated so much, they look black to match the eyeliner that surrounds
them. His lipstick has come off a bit, the natural color coming through
some. He has never looked so beautiful to Louis. Louis wants to devour
him. His dick twitches with the need to be inside of Harry for the first time,
to feel his tight heat wrapped around him. His fingers suddenly aren’t
enough, so he slowly pulls them out, pushing Harry down on the bed. Louis
quickly undresses himself, getting off his ridiculously tight skinny jeans in
record time, finally laying on top of Harry. Harry is still wearing Louis’
jersey, so Louis pulls it up, exposing his stomach and chest. He doesn’t
want to pull it off completely, though, enjoying the material on Harry’s skin
far too much.
“Don’t be nervous, love. We don’t have to do this. All you have to do is say
stop, and we will stop. You can open me up an fuck me. I don’t care. I just
love being with you,” Louis tells him, sensing the return of Harry’s anxiety
as he pets his hair, searching his face for possible signs of apprehension. He
doesn’t find any, just nerves. Louis understands that. He is nervous, as well.
He would rather hurt himself than ever hurt the boy in his arms. Harry has
suffered enough, he doesn’t need Louis to add to it. Louis hopes he never
does.
“No. I want you. I want this. I trust you,” Harry whispers so low, Louis
wouldn’t have heard if he wasn’t inches away from his face. Louis freezes
when he hears the word trust, his whole body reacting to it. Trust. He has
been wanting Harry to trust him since the very beginning. Harry has begun
to trust him more, Louis can tell. He is more open with him, and Louis
holds on to hope that someday, Harry will tell him all of his secrets. He
wants to know Harry’s story. He wants to understand him and help him heal
from whatever pain he has endured at the hands of others and maybe even
himself. He wants to be that for Harry.
__________
“Okay, love. I’m gonna put the condom on,” Louis tells him, and Harry
nods his head dumbly. He isn’t sure if he is more nervous now or the first
time he and Louis ever slept together. He thinks he may have been more
nervous then, scared to hurt Louis and be bad at it. He is feeling more
confident now, sure in his decision. In this moment, it is mostly the fear of
the unknown, not knowing how it is going to feel when Louis is finally
inside of him. He knows that Louis’ fingers feel amazing, so he can’t
imagine his cock being anything less than spectacular. He watches with
heavy eyes as Louis rolls the condom on his length, adding more lube,
before giving it a few swift tugs.
In a matter of minutes, Louis is back on top of him, his warm skin seeping
into Harry’s. He looks lovely looming over him, his hair falling down into
his eyes, the light permeating his long eyelashes, creating shadows on his
freckled cheeks below. An indescribable feeling grips Harry’s heart then,
like a vice, not letting up, stopping the breath from leaving his chest. It’s not
the first time he has had it around Louis, and he doesn’t foresee it being the
last. It keeps getting stronger, almost as if it will stop his heart completely
unless he proclaims it to Louis. He just can’t. Not yet. Maybe his
stubbornness will kill him.
“Ready, love?” Louis asks, snapping Harry out of his thoughts. Harry looks
into his eyes, seeing something in them that he doesn't think he has ever
seen before. Harry swallows and nods, not really trusting his voice to talk
right now. He moans when Louis’ small hand wraps around his throbbing
cock, stroking him slowly, just enough to keep him hard but not enough to
make him come yet. He leans down, capturing his lips in a sweet and slow
kiss, his tongue timed to the rhythm of his hand. Harry almost doesn't
notice it when Louis begins sinking in. The stretch hurts a bit, burning in
the way his fingers did when Louis first had them in him, but it’s not
unbearable.
Once Louis is all the way in, his hips touching Harry’s ass, he doesn’t
move. Harry feels tense from nerves, trying to concentrate on the constant
motion of Louis’ hand and mouth. “Relax, love. It will feel better if you
relax for me,” Louis says, voice soft and gentle, kissing him again, parting
his lips and delving his tongue. Harry takes a few deep breaths,
concentrating on the feeling of Louis’ tongue on his own, allowing his body
to relax. Louis moans when Harry releases the tension from his muscles,
prompting Harry to loosen up even more, bringing his hand up to card his
fingers through Louis hair, effectively messing up whatever style he had it
in for the concert. The concert. Fuck. Hearing Louis’ raspy voice singing
the lyrics to his favorite songs in his ear was almost enough to make him
come, and only solidified his decision to bottom tonight.
“Move. Please. Lou, move,” Harry breaths out, breaking their kiss long
enough to utter the words before he grips Louis’ hair, pulling him back
down. Louis moans into it, beginning to move his hips agonizingly slow,
keeping the same pace on his cock. Louis’ coordination is top notch. Must
be all of the sport he plays. Harry has never been so thankful for sports in
his entire life, because his body feels like it is on fire from pleasure, the
blood in his veins being substituted by hot lava, frying his brain.
“You’re doing so good, Harry,” Louis praises, removing his hand so that
both of them are resting beside Harry’s head. The friction on his cock
doesn’t stop though, the soft skin of Louis’ tummy rubbing against it with
every thrust, driving Harry mad with desire. He feels like he is possessed,
his eyes rolling back into his head as his back bows off the bead. If this was
hundreds of years ago, Louis would have surely called a priest, convinced
that Harry’s body is inhabited by a demon. Thankfully though, they live in
the time of science, so Harry is safe from that shit. Safe to feel the pleasure
coursing through his system.
“You’re so fucking tight. You feel so good, baby,” Louis says, his his slow
pace building, his hips going faster. Harry wants to talk back, but he can’t.
He is too consumed by Louis, so he just nods his head and mouths at Louis’
prominent collarbones. The same collarbones that had been exposed all
night long in Harry’s shirt that was too big. They are so deep, Harry is
almost positive he could drown in them if they were filled with water. Holy
fucking shit. He doesn't want to drown, because he feels alive. Louis is
someone to live for. Someone to fight for. Louis is everything. He is the sun
in Harry’s solar system, the very beacon that gives Harry life.
“Lou, I…” Harry starts, but his sentence cuts off with a particularly deep
thrust, Louis hitting his spot dead on, making Harry’s legs twitch. He isn’t
going to last much longer. He can feel his orgasm quickly approaching like
a freight train, and given Louis’ now desperate rhythm, he thinks Louis is
feeling the same. Louis grabs his ass, spreading his cheeks, and presses in
deeper. Harry releases a moan from deep within his chest, feeling
impossibly full, as if he is being split open, but it feels so fucking good a
tear is brought to his eye. Louis’ small hands continue to clutch his flesh,
laying his body heavily on Harry’s kissing him passionately.
“Fuck. Harry. I’m so close. Baby, you feel so good. Fuck. Ohmygod,” Louis
rambles against his lips, sending a jolt of pleasure through Harry’s system,
ending at his cock. Harry wants Louis to come. He suddenly wishes there
wasn’t a condom separating them, wanting to feel Louis inside of him,
claiming him in every way. Harry feels like if he doesn't get Louis’ come he
may actually die, so he pretends there isn’t a piece of latex between them.
“Need it, Lou. Need your come in me. Please. Fuck. I’m so fucking close.
Shit. Please. Fill me up,” Harry says, finally finding his voice. He is afraid
he has thrown Louis off with the impromptu roleplay, if you could even call
it that, but it seems to have the opposite effect. Louis growls, gripping his
hips so hard he will probably leave bruises as he fucks into him, deep and
fast. Harry just moans with abandon, feeling like his cock is about to
explode at any moment.
“Harry!” Louis screams bringing his lips down to his in a punishing kiss,
his hips stuttering. Harry is probably imagining it, but he feels Louis empty
into the condom, prompting Harry to topple over the point of no return, his
come coating his and Louis’ chest and stomach. His whole body is tingling
as he kisses Louis back, screaming into his mouth with his release. He feels
like his entire being is altered somehow, one of the walls around his heart
came crashing down in a giant heap between the beats that Louis managed
to fit in. Harry doesn't know how many walls he has left, how many
defenses he has against Louis in his arsenal. Fuck. If there are any, he may
tear them down himself sooner rather than later.
They lay wrapped in each other’s arm for a minute, kissing lazily, Louis not
moving as if he doesn’t want to because it may break the moment, but
everything is made to be broken it seems. Harry groans when Louis slowly
pulls out. His shirt is bunched under his armpits, Louis seeming to not want
to take it off completely. He doesn't blame him. Harry kind of likes the way
he looks in it as well. It is sticking to his skin. They need to shower. They
have been sweating all night, and his makeup is probably a mess.
“Shower?” Harry asks, breaking the silence. Louis smiles and nods, getting
off the bed to dispose of the condom. Harry follows him, wincing at the
pain in his ass. He is going to be sore tomorrow, but he doesn't regret it.
Louis looks at him in concern.
“I don’t regret it, you know,” Harry tells him once they are in the shower,
the hot water cascading over their tired bodies and sore muscles. He can tell
that is what Louis is thinking, his brows drawn down, his firm lips in a
small pout. Louis looks up at him, relief washing over his features. Harry
reaches for a makeup wipe, scrubbing his face when he hears Louis’ voice.
“I don’t think I could ever regret anything we do, even though it goes
against everything I was raised to believe,” Louis tells him, and Harry
removes the wipe to look into Louis’ eyes. It is an interesting choice of
phrasing. He didn’t say it goes against everything he currently believes, just
everything he was raised to believe. Louis hasn’t said it, but Harry thinks he
has been questioning his blind faith more and more. Every single
conversation they have about it, Harry can feel his tower crumbling, much
like the walls Harry built around his heart. It is only a matter of time before
it all falls down, leaving Harry and Louis to shift through the rubble.
They are silent as they wash each other’s bodies from head to toe, both
sensing the other is deep in thought about their relationship and where they
stand together or a part. Harry hopes it is together though, but he can’t bring
himself to ask. He feels too uncertain about Louis’ feelings for him or even
his own feelings for Louis. He needs to talk to someone about it first. He
needs a second opinion because they are too young and too dumb to know
things like love. He doesn't even know what love is. Is it supposed to hurt
his chest and make his heart ache? Is it supposed to feel all consuming, and
as if he is literally going to burst with it? Is it supposed to make him feel
sick and shaky, yet happy and elated?
“This night has been amazing. I hope it was a good birthday present for
you.” Louis breaks the silence, smiling as he turns down the covers,
climbing in the middle of the bed. It is bigger than any bed they have slept
in together before, but Harry has a feeling most of the space won’t be used.
He climbs in behind him, smiling happily. He is happy. Happier than he has
ever been he thinks. He has kind of forgotten what happiness feels like, but
when he is with Louis, it’s easy to remember. Everything is easier with
Louis, it seems.
“It’s been perfect. Thank you for coming. It was better because you were
here,” Harry tells him, his limbs feeling suddenly heavy. He doesn’t think
he will have any trouble sleeping tonight, the long day settling into his
weary bones, making everything feel as if it is slow motion, even his blinks.
He pulls Louis’ arm so that his chest is draped over Harry’s back, spooning
him from behind. Harry has found, even though he will never ever admit it
to anyone, that he likes being the little spoon. He always feels so safe and
warm when Louis is holding him from behind. He can feel Louis’ naked
body pressed against his own, his cock twitching in interest. Maybe they
will have a quickie before they meet Robin for breakfast in the morning.
“I wouldn’t miss it, baby,” Louis responds, and he can hear the sleepiness in
his voice. It’s cute. Harry has come to learn it. Even if they don’t get a
chance to sleep together very often, they still talk on the phone most nights
until Louis is too tired to hold his head up. Harry could recognize the sleepy
rasp in Louis’ voice anywhere, different from the rasp when he is turned on.
“Good night, Lou,” Harry says, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Good night, my Hazza,” Louis responds, kissing Harry on the cheek.
Moments later, they are both sound asleep, warm and content, holding each
other like a lifeline.
Chapter End Notes
I love this chapter for many reasons. First... well Bottom!H. You know
I am a hoe for bottom Harry even though I think they share that really.
Brighter than the Sun
Chapter Summary
The boys go to play flag football at the park, but Louis has a surprise
for Harry. Later, Harry and Anne have a discussion
Chapter Notes
Again, they get into a pretty heavy theological discussion in this
chapter. Not all points are going to be represented because I could talk
about religion for hours, and you all don't want to read all of that. If
you feel like something else should have been said, feel free to DM me
or something. I try to keep their conversations as organic as possible.
Most of what is said has been a conversation between myself and
someone else.
Dana for being my guinea pig and reading this as well. She also added
some input to their discussion that I think really rounded it out, so
thank you, Babe!
Like a miracle you change me, raise me
Brighter than the sun till I'm ready to be me
And your love is the reason, yeah
Like a miracle you wake me, make me
Brighter than the sun when it used to blind me
I know your love is the reason
Love never goes out of season- Poets of the Fall

“Are you wearing a flannel?” Louis asks, kind of shocked to see Harry
wearing such an item. He is still wearing his normal black band t-shirt and
skinny jeans though, but the flannel threw Louis off. Harry looks down at
his outfit, then back to Louis. Louis watches with amused eyes as Harry
takes a hair tie from around his wrist, and ties the front part of his hair up,
out of his eyes. His curls are getting so long, and Louis has decided he
doesn’t want him to cut it. Ever. The early April sunlight hits his curly locks
just right, making it appear as though there are caramel streaks throughout
them. It is stunning. Harry is stunning.
“Yeah. It’s still kind of chilly,” Harry shrugs noncommittally. He had just
gotten off work and agreed to meet Louis along with Niall, and Liam in the
park for a late lunch and some touch football. Louis had to beg him for an
hour over the phone and promise him a blow job. It wasn’t like it was a
punishment for Louis to give him a blowjob. He was planning to anyway.
Harry still isn’t super comfortable around Liam, but they talk often enough
in the group. Louis just sees this as a bonding exercise, and if he has a
surprise for Harry by the end of it, that is neither here nor there.
“That’s true. I’m sure the sun will warm us up soon. It’s still kind of early,
even though I’ve been up since 4am,” Louis says, looking down at his own
jean jacket paired with a blue and white striped shirt. He wore something
different to church this morning, though. He had to look nice for Easter
Sunday, and he was kind of grumpy from being up at the literal ass crack of
dawn, however, seeing Harry always makes everything better. At least they
had coffee and food this morning at Church. He had barely even paid
attention to the sermon though, too busy being irritated for having to get out
of bed so early for something that may not have happened to someone that
may not have even existed.
“Why in the Zeus’ name were you up so fucking early?” Harry asks, eyes
wide with surprise because it is usually impossible to get Louis up before
10am on weekends. Louis thinks it’s hilarious when Harry replaces the
word God with other Gods that existed in history. He has never said it, but
he allows himself a chuckle.
“Easter Sunday. I had to go to the Sunrise Service at my parent’s Church to
celebrate Jesus’ resurrection,” Louis tells him, his words stuttering with his
slip of ‘my parent’s church’ and not ‘my church’ like he would have said a
few months prior. He had almost forgotten it was Easter until his mom told
him to go to bed early since he has to be up early. He was enjoying his
small spring break off of school then suddenly he had to be up far too early
to be acceptable. At least he got to see Harry during their three day break,
giving him a few driving lessons while Mark was at work and what not.
“You do realize that holiday was also ripped off of Pagan traditions, don’t
you?” Harry asks, his smirk in place. Louis was waiting for that. He knew it
was coming. Harry just can’t help himself, and Louis doesn’t mind at all.
Not anymore.
“Yes, I do actually. It came up when I was researching the other holidays.

The word Easter came from a Goddess who was associated with the Spring
Equinox, and a lot of our traditions are based on Pagans. Eggs and bunnies
are symbols of fertility, for example,” Louis replies, smiling when Harry
looks impressed by his knowledge. Harry isn’t the only one that can
surprise people, thank you very much. Hopefully Harry will be just as
surprised later.
“You know, it turns me on when you say shit like that,” Harry responds,
getting closer to Louis, almost whispering the words in his ear. A shiver
travels down Louis’ spine into his dick at Harry’s sinful voice. Louis is glad
he isn’t the only one that feels that way because when Harry talks religion,
Louis’ world is usually spinning and his dick is always hard.
“Still doesn’t change the fact that Jesus was resurrected after three days
though,” Louis responds with a smile, looking up at Harry who is still
smirking, despite Louis’ comment.
“Jesus isn’t special there. A lot of Gods have done that very same thing.
Osiris, who just so happens to be a God of fertility and the underworld, was
resurrected not once, but twice. His wife, Isis, did it once by gathering up
all of the pieces of his body and used magic, then the other Gods did it a
second time after Osiris was ripped to shreds again. If Osiris did it twice,
and Jesus only did it once, then why don’t you worship him instead?
Sounds like he is superior,” Harry points out with a wide smile, and Louis
isn’t surprised in the slightest. A few months ago, he would have been, but
now, after Harry has taught him so much about the stories of other gods, it’s
not shocking that the resurrection of Jesus is also similar.
“Are Ni and Li already here?” Harry asks changing the subject and looking
around the park. He doesn’t miss the nickname for Liam that slips from his
ridiculously full lips that Louis may or may not want to kiss in the sunlight.
Louis looks around for them, having just saw them a few minutes ago. The
park isn’t that crowded even though it is noon on the first sunny Sunday in
what feels like an eternity. It is probably because it’s Easter. There was a
community Easter Egg Hunt that took place earlier, but it seems to have
ended, remnants of plastic eggs littering the ground. It is the very same park
they played touch football with his family. The same location even. Louis is
a genius.
“Yeah. Over there,” Louis responds pointing to where Harry’s eyes are
already watching Liam and Niall throw a football back and forth. Niall’s
throw isn’t the best, but it also isn’t terrible. Definitely not a quarterback
though. Louis pulls on Harry’s elbow to lead him to the grass where Louis
had already bought two pizzas for them to share. He owed Niall and Liam
for this favor, after all. They sat down on the grass, and Louis waves the
other two boys over.
“Haz! Glad you made it!” Liam greets, far too cheerfully for having also
been up at an inhuman hour to go to fucking church. Liam sits down beside
Louis while Niall sits beside Harry, their normal seating arrangement when
they are in a group now if Willow and Tara aren’t around. Louis makes a
mental note to ask Willow how things are going with Tara. Last time he
checked, Tara was still oblivious to Willow’s advances, but she definitely
flirts back from what he has seen. He keeps telling Willow to just go for it,
but she has her reservations. He understands that. He feels lucky to have
found Harry, and even though the events that finally brought them together
were shitty, he feels like they were necessary. Almost as if they accelerated
everything, bringing Louis and Harry together. If that hadn’t happened, he
would probably still be flirting with Harry, dancing around their attraction
like Willow and Tara.
“What kinds of filthy things did Lou have to promise to get you here?”
Niall asks, clapping Harry on the back while helping himself to a slice of
pizza. Louis freezes, waiting for Harry’s response. This could go one of two
ways. Either Harry will take it in stride and possibly make a sex joke or he
will get upset because Liam is there and they really have not outwardly
spoken about their relationship in front of him, yet. Louis is praying for the
former even though he isn’t entirely sure prayer even works and hasn’t
really prayed in a hot minute.
“A blow job,” Harry responds easily, shooting a smirk at Louis. Louis sighs
in relief, maybe there is a God after all. Pride fills his chest at Harry’s
statement. He knows it is a dumb thing to be proud of, but the Harry he met
several months ago would have never made a comment like that in front of
anyone, let alone Liam. Louis almost hadn’t realized because all of the steps
have been small and over a long period of time, but Harry has come so
fucking far Louis could cry. They have come so far.
“How were you allowed to come here, Lou? I know Mark has you on a
pretty tight chain,” Liam asks, changing the subject. He didn’t even flinch
at Harry’s comment though, which Louis appreciates. They really should
have given Liam more credit in all of this. He has taken everything in
stride, and Louis couldn’t be more thankful for having such an amazing best
friend.
“I told him I was hanging out with Willow and her family for Easter since
we don’t really do anything outside of Church in the mornings and Easter
baskets. Anyways, he then gave me a wink and nudge with a ‘go get ‘em
son’. I almost puked on his perfectly shined shoes,” Louis responds with a
look of disgust. It really is disgusting how Mark views women as just
objects and not actual people. It is even more disgusting that he is the father
for four young, impressionable girls. Louis shudders to think what he is
going to say when they get older and begin to really think about boys or
girls. He has already forbidden Lottie from wearing makeup and dying her
hair blonde, like she has been begging to do. Louis didn’t see what was so
wrong with makeup and dying hair. He supposes it is along the same lines
as a tattoo: God didn’t make you that way, so why change it. Louis is
beginning to think that logic is flawed though, even with a tattoo.
“Eww,” Harry says, making a similar look of disgust. A-fucking-men.
Louis would agree with that more than half of the garbage people say
‘amen’ to in church these days. He hates going to church now, this morning
very much included in that thought. He absolutely despises it. He started
actually paying attention to the sermon, and a lot of the times, it just simply
makes no sense and is inconsistent rambling at best. Throughout the whole
thing, he has a little voice in his head, that sounds suspiciously like Harry’s,
that it picks apart. Louis can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad. He
thinks Harry would say that it’s good.
“No offence, but your dad seems like a real douche,” Niall remarks around
a mouth full of pizza, red sauce in several different locations on his mouth
and chin. Louis nods in agreement, Harry and Liam following suit as Louis
chews a bite of his own pizza thoughtfully, deciding how he wants to reply.
He doesn't feel offended by the statement at all, which is strange. He
should, right? A few months ago, he wouldn’t have been nodding in
agreement. Maybe Harry isn’t the only one to come far.
“Yeah. He is, but I kinda feel bad for saying that. Like, Harry and Liam
know, but he’s my step dad. He adopted me, and I should be grateful. I
mean, one of the commandments in the Bible is to honor thy father and thy
mother,” Louis says, seeing the commandment in his head as he says it.
They have been on the wall of every living room he has ever lived in. His
mom always hangs it up as soon as they move in, even though sometimes
Louis never saw a reason for unpacking since they were just going to move
again. This is the longest he has lived in one place since his mom and Mark
got married. He has seen the Commandments every day for as long as he
can remember and has read them more times then he could count.
“Yeah, but the commandments aren’t perfect,” Harry says with a shrug,
chewing a bite of pizza with his mouth closed looking up at the sky,
seemingly unbothered by his comment. What does he mean they aren’t
perfect? Louis can’t think of a single thing wrong with them. They are a
moral code afterall. Louis glances over towards Liam who is looking at
Harry with an intrigued expression.
“What do you mean?” Liam asks, and no Liam. That is the wrong thing to
ask Harry if you want to keep your faith intact. Louis knows this, but Liam
doesn’t. Oh yeah, Liam hasn’t had to witness Harry in all his breaking-
down-the-constraints-of-religion glory. Seeing the look of awe on someone
else’s face may be a nice change of pace, plus he already feels smug over
Harry’s knowledge and proud to call him his even if they don’t have a label
on it, yet.
“Well the commandments themselves mention other gods which is a huge

inconsistency in Christian’s teaching of only one God in existence,” Harry
responds, while Niall nods along, as if he and Harry have had this
conversation before. It suddenly dawns on Louis that he has no idea what
Niall believes. He has never heard the other man mention church or
anything of that nature. If he is best friends with Harry, he can’t be that
devout. There is just no possible way. Louis would have considered himself
devout before he met Harry even though he has an attraction to men.
“They do?” Liam asks, and Louis smiles because Harry is getting ready to
hit poor unsuspecting Liam with a bullet train of knowledge. Louis is
intrigued by the conversation, but he is also kind of glad that he isn’t the
only one who’s world will be shook by the end of it. Liam will have to
survive the experience with him which is somewhat comforting. He
watches as Harry sits down his pizza, fixing both of them with a look as if
to say ‘do you really want me to do this?’ Louis nods while Liam doesn’t
look so convinced, and Niall is just smiling like a loon. Louis almost feels
giddy over this, strangely enough. There is just something so incredibly hot
about Harry when he is arguing over religion. Something that makes Louis
want to drop to his knees with prayer as the last thing on his mind. Fuck.
Louis needs to calm down or he is going to get a hard in his sweatpants and
they're in a public park.
“Yup,” Harry says, popping the ‘p’ and leaning back on his hands, pizza
long forgotten. Niall did not forget it, though, because he is reaching for
another slice, stuffing it in his mouth while he watches everything unfold. If
he had popcorn, he would probably be eating it by the handfuls right now.
“What does the first commandment say?” Louis mentally looks at the
plaque mounted on the wall, reading the words in his head.
“Thou shalt have no other gods before me,” Louis answers, and hold the
fuck up. How did he never see that before? How the fuck has he read the
damn thing so fucking much and never noticed the fucking wording of the
first commandment. Holy fucking shit. He already knows what Harry is
about to say before he even says it because he figured out Harry’s point
himself with one simple fucking question. What does the actual
commandment say?
“Exactly,” Harry responds, pointing to Louis. Harry knows that Louis has
figured it out. He can tell by the look of pride in Harry’s eyes and the small
smile on his lips. Louis’ dick twitches. Holy fucking hell, this is hot. Hotter
than the hell he is most definitely going to for finding this so fucking hot.
Liam looks confused, so Harry looks at Louis challenging him to complete
the argument. Louis swallows. Can he do this? Can he verbally say what he
is thinking? Can he tell Liam that the Bible and man’s interpretation of it
could be wrong?
“The wording of that commandment infers that there are more gods other
than the Christian god. It says ‘thou shalt have no other gods before me’ not
‘I am the one and only god’ or something to that nature,” Louis finishes, the
words leaving him like breath from his lungs. He feels winded somehow,
like he has run a marathon when he has just been sitting here. It is the first
time he has said anything against his faith out loud, Harry usually saying
what he is thinking. Liam looks like he has is having similar thoughts, as
though his world has been shifted, but this is the first time for Liam that
Louis knows of. Louis has gone through this before. Every single time his
world shifts on its axis, his proverbial tower of faith begins groaning and
tilting with it not being built to withstand the force of nature that is Harry
Styles.
“Maybe it is referring to the worship of money or something along those

lines. Like how we worship money and wealth almost as if it is a God,”
Liam says, and Louis surprised by that thought. He thinks that is a very
good interpretation and looks over at Harry, expecting him to look shocked.
His features are still neutral though, giving nothing away, but Louis can
almost see the cogs in his brain turning as he thinks of a reply. Louis’ poor
cock isn’t going to survive this conversation.
“There are two things wrong with that statement,” Harry starts, and Louis
finds himself holding his breath. Harry’s voice is steady and sure, as if he
has already thought about this. “First, we are getting into the definition of a
God which is generally described as an all-powerful entity that created the
universe. Everything you worship isn’t a God, and not all Gods are
worshiped. We still consider Isis among the pantheon of Egyptian Gods,
however, hardly anyone worships Isis like the Egyptians did. I don’t think,
by that definition, money or wealth is what the Bible is referring to.”
“It’s an interpretation, though. It is how I interpret it,” Liam cuts in, and
Harry doesn’t look upset at all by the interruption. What Harry just said
made sense to Louis though. He’s right. Money has never been considered
something that actually created the universe. Ruled it maybe, but not
created it. Everything we worship isn't a God, so does that make Liam’s
previous point invalid? Louis doesn't know. Everything in his head is
conflicting. He sees the logic in Harry’s views, but it is so hard to turn his
back on years of indoctrination into the church.
“That was my second point. If we are going by how everything is

interpreted, then shouldn’t we take everything in the Bible on a grain of
sand? The way you understand something could be completely different
than the way Louis, Niall, and I understand it, so why on Earth would we
base the rules of society on how someone has interpreted an ancient book?
If that’s the case, and God was real, then maybe you have interpreted
something completely wrong, which will send you straight to hell. If we
take the Bible literal, which most do, then the commandments says there is
more than one God,” Harry finishes bringing the conversation back to the
original topic. Louis blinks, feeling as though he is on a roller-coaster. He
glances over at Liam, who looks like he is deep in thought. Louis knows
Liam isn’t done, but neither is Harry therefore Louis buckles is proverbial
seat-belt and hangs on for his life.
“But it says later that besides him, there is no other god,” Liam points out,
and he thinks he has won. Louis knows that look. He has had it on his face
more times then he cares to admit, only for it to be wiped away the next
second by whatever earth shattering realization that falls from Harry’s lips.
Louis thinks it is a fair point though, so he nods his head, looking back at
Harry to see what he has to say.
“That’s my point though. It’s an inconsistency. An inconsistency in the very
moral code you base your life on. Either there are other gods or there aren’t.
There are just as many lines in the Bible that allude to other gods as there
are that says he is the only one,” Harry says with a smirk, and there it is.
The look on Liam’s face of being hit by a train. His mouth is agape as he is
probably wracking his brain for a response. He probably won’t find one.
Louis can’t really think of one.
“You all break a commandment all the time. It says not to make an image of
anything in the heavens and worship it, yet there is shit with Jesus on it all
over the place, including churches that people worship. There you go. You
have broken the second commandment every time you go to church and
kneel in front of a depiction of Jesus on the cross.” Niall’s voice startles
Louis. He almost forgot the other boy was there, but he has a very good
point. That is the second commandment, yet his family has depictions of
God among the clouds in their own house.
“But Jesus was a man, so does that really count if he isn’t technically of the
heavens?” Liam asks, and Louis nods, giving Liam a point in his head. He
is glad Liam is here. It’s a different perspective and someone on his side.
“You’ve gotta pick one Liam. Jesus can’t be a man, the son of God, and
God himself. That doesn’t make any fucking sense. If he is God himself,
put into a man, then he is still of the Heaven’s so Niall’s point still stands,”
Harry responds, and Louis feels like he’s watching a tennis match, his eyes
traveling from Liam to Harry so fast, it is making him dizzy. The
information his brain is being assaulted with is also making him the park
spin.
“What do you believe, Niall?” Louis asks suddenly, his curiosity getting the
better of him with Niall’s input on their conversation.
“I dunno. I kind of believe that there was something that set the universe in
motion, but I don’t know what that something is. I don’t think there is
currently a giant man in the sky controlling us and the universe like
puppets. Harry says that I’m agnostic, so yeah,” Niall responds with a
shrug, and Louis makes a mental note to look up that term. He is unfamiliar
with it, but the concept sounds interesting. He didn’t know there was an in
between, but he isn’t sure he believes the in between. He thinks he either
will believe, or he won’t believe.
“Okay, so maybe we break the second commandment, but they still exist to
be moral code for mankind. Every society needs rules to live by,” Liam says
going back to the topic at hand even though he isn’t really because that isn’t
really a response to Harry and Niall’s last point about the commandments.
That is deflection. Louis knows that technique well. He has done it so
much, he isn’t sure how Harry hasn’t gotten whiplash from it, but Harry
takes it in stride. Not shocking. He probably saw the moment coming from
three comments back. He has a feeling Harry plans his conversations about
religion like that. Always asking the right questions to walk them into a trap
before he drops the bomb. He probably thinks of at least a half dozen
responses they could reply with for everything he says. His mind. Louis
wants to poke it.
“But why can’t we make our own moral codes? Do we really need religion
to distinguish between right and wrong? God supposedly made these moral
codes for us to follow to the letter, mentioning murder, envy, and even
respecting your parents, which is all fine and good, but he also left out some
pretty horrific acts like genocide, rape, and slavery. In fact, the bible
endorses rape and slavery, including selling your daughter into slavery. Just
more evidence that the Bible is a product of its time and the setting within
history and not the word of God.” Harry says the sentence so
noncommittally as he finishes off his slice of pizza, but holy fucking hell.
Harry has a very good point. Louis always just kind of ignored the slavery
part of the bible, but it is there. If he can easily ignore that because he
knows it is wrong, then why can’t he ignore the parts about homosexuality?
Why does the church get to cherry pick what they want and what they
don’t, but they chose to keep the homosexuality clause for whatever reason?
“I mean, I want someone to not murder me because they know it’s wrong,
not because a book told them so. Does it make them a good person if the
only reason they don’t murder or steal is because it says so in an ancient
book? I, personally, do not believe so. Hell ‘god fearing’ people do terrible
things everyday. Their belief in the Bible doesn’t prevent them. In fact, they
think it’s okay because they just have to ask for God’s forgiveness. If
tomorrow we found out, for a fact, that everything in the Bible is fabricated,
would you have this overwhelming desire to go out and kill people then
steal their shit just because you know the Bible isn’t the word of a God?” A
silence falls over their circle then as Louis and Liam both let Harry’s
statements and questions sink in. Louis has no idea how to answer them
because he has never been asked that before. Of course he wouldn’t go out
and murder people if there wasn’t a Bible with no moral code to follow. If
that’s the case, then why does he need the Bible at all? Why can’t being a
good person be good enough?
“Ready to play some football?” Niall asks then, after they all finish their
pizza, the silence feeling heavy among them. Niall seems unaffected
though, looking almost giddy with Harry’s last words while Louis and Liam
look torn and unable to come up with any kind of appropriate response
because they are essentially backed into a corner. If they say ‘yes’, they
would go out and steal shit without the Bible to tell them not to, then they
were never good people to begin with, and it would be a lie in order to save
their argument. If they say ‘no’, then they admit that Harry is right, and the
Commandments are not needed as a moral code to live by. They know this,
so they haven't responded.
“Yeah, sounds good to me,” Liam responds, and Louis is suddenly feeling
nervous all over again. They are about to execute his plan, and Louis feels
sick, the pizza in his gut turning uncomfortably. As if Liam senses Louis’
discomfort, he claps Louis on the back offering him a smile. Louis feels a
bit better, knowing that Liam and Niall are on his side. Niall knows Harry
better than anyone, so he feels confident in his question. If Niall says it will
be fine, then it will be fine. They quickly decide that Louis and Harry will
be on one team while Niall and Liam will be on the other. I wouldn’t be fair
for Louis and Liam to be on a team together, since they both play often.
Even though they aren’t really going to play, it still needs to be believable.
Louis nods to Liam and Niall, giving them the signal before he tosses the
ball to Harry, allowing him to run towards the fake goal line with his back
is turned towards them. They quickly go grab the signs, getting into
formation in time for Harry to turn back towards them after he scores, the
smile dropping from his face in surprise. Louis holds his breath. He may
actually puke, but then Harry would definitely say ‘no’. There is nothing
attractive about puking, and he wants Harry to say ‘yes’ therefore he
swallows down the desire and begs to whatever god is listening that he will
get the answer he wants.
_____
Harry can feel the wind in his hair as he sprints towards their makeshift
goal after Louis hands off the ball. He is surprised that Louis gave it to him
at first, since Louis is so much faster, but he takes it and runs like Louis told
him to do before. He can feel himself smiling as he turns around, ready for
Louis to tackle him in happiness of his goal, but is surprised to find Louis
not celebrating. Instead, he is standing in a line with Liam and Niall, all
three of the holding up a sign. Harry walks closer so that he can read the
signs, and stops in his tracks when he realizes what they say. Holy fucking
shit.
Liam is holding up a sign with the words ‘Will You go’ in big blue letters.
Harry would recognize Louis’ messy scroll anywhere. Next to him, Niall is
standing with his own sign, this time the words written in green, that say
‘To The Prom’. Finally, Louis is holding up his own sign that simply reads
‘With Me?’. He is holding out something in his right hand. Harry gets
closer, holding his breath in his lungs in anticipation to see what it is. When
he finally sees it, he blinks back tears. In Louis’ dainty hands is a teal guitar
pick that says ‘Pick Me’ in small black letters. Holy fucking shit. Louis
can’t be fucking serious right now.
“Please?” Louis asks, his voice small and unsure. His eyes are honest, so he
is being serious. He actually wants Harry to go to the prom with him. Niall
is rocking back on his heels, then coming up to his toes as if he can’t take
the anticipation. Liam just looks scared, completely unsure of Harry’s
answer. Harry isn’t even sure of his answer. He always said he wouldn't go
to prom. He hates the very idea of it, but Louis. Louis asked him, and fuck
he kind of wants to go. Is that wrong of him? Would he be bending to
societal standards by going? Does he give a fuck when Louis is looking at
him with wide eyes, almost begging? Louis who has lit up Harry’s world
like nobody else has ever been able to do. Louis wants him to go. Fuck.
Harry reaches for the pick, taking it from Louis’ hand with shaking fingers.
Louis’ hands are sweaty, which means he is nervous. Nervous of Harry’s
answer. Harry blinks again, attempting to tell the tears to stay at bay. No
one has ever gone to this effort for him before. Well Louis has on more than
one occasion, but nothing like this. Not an open show of affection in front
of their friends. Not asking Liam and Niall to participate in something so
sweet. Harry finds himself nodding before he even gets the word to leave
his lips.
“Yes,” Harry responds on a breath, blinking a few times to makes sure this
is real. That what is happening right now is real life. He pinches himself
and doesn’t wake up. The next moment Louis is in his arms, jumping to
wrap his legs around Harry’s waist. Niall and Liam quickly move to block
the view of anyone even though they are in a fairly secluded area. Louis’
lips are on his, tasting like the sunshine he exudes. The kiss is brief which
just hurts Harry’s questionable soul as he breaks it to slide down his body.
“I’m so glad you said yes,” Louis whispers, grabbing Harry’s hand to
squeeze it, the pick digging into his skin, yet more affirmation that this is
real life. That Louis really did just ask him to prom in a sweet and genuine
way that is perfect for them. Harry knows that Louis will have to go
publicly with Willow, but that doesn’t matter to him. Their friends know
that they are going with each other, and that’s all that matters to Harry. He
doesn’t give a fuck what the school believes. He knows he is going to be
Louis’ date, and that Louis asked him, not Willow.
“How could I say no when you asked like that?” Harry responds, wanting
desperately to kiss Louis, but they can’t. They are in too much of a public
place right now, so it would be easy for someone to see them making out.
The first kiss was risky enough. As much as Harry hates hiding it, the
results of it being open would be much, much worse. That’s when an idea
strikes Harry. He looks over to the woods, then catches Niall’s eyes. Niall
immediately gets what Harry is trying to say, eyes sparkling in the light.
Harry needs to remember to give Niall a cookie because he is a good
fucking friend.
“Go. Find a room or somethin’,” Niall says with a smile, and Harry could
kiss him.
“What about you all?” Louis asks, looking at Niall and Liam.
“I’ve gotta get going. Got an Easter family gathering in an hour, and I
would much rather not want to be a part of whatever you all are going to get
into,” Liam responds, shoving his hands in his pockets and smiling at them.
“Each other, but yeah we don’t wanna see that. So go on. Get out of here
before you all start humping each other like bunnies or some shit. Go on,
now. Git!” Niall says, shooing Harry and Louis away by smacking both of
them on the ass. Louis giggles as he reaches for Harry’s hand. Harry takes it
easily before looking around, leading them to a hidden path in the woods
that he knows like the back of his own hand. He and Niall used to take it to
the park all the time when they were young. They pretended they were
hunting whatever mythical creature they dreamed up at the time, then
walked the path along the creek looking for it until they made it to the park.
Now, Harry has other plans.
“Is this where you are gonna take me to murder me since you don’t have the
Bible as a moral guide?” Louis asks when they head deeper into the woods
right as Harry shoves the pick into his pocket. Harry laughs, but, to be fair,
Louis probably doesn't see the path along the river that Harry sees. He
knows it is a joke though. Louis trusts him, and he trusts Louis. He wants to
tell him all of his secrets. He probably will soon. It just hasn’t felt like the
right time yet, but he thinks he can trust him with it.
“We are gonna celebrate Easter in our own way. We will call it Sodomy
Sunday or something,” Harry responds, and hears Louis snort on a laugh.
He’s glad Louis wasn’t offended by his words, and still wants to do this
type of thing after both of their conversations today. He pulls Louis,
weaving them through the trees. The river is a nice backdrop, mingling with
the sounds of birds chirping. The sounds of Harry’s childhood. He hates the
town with a passion, but he will probably miss these small places when he
leaves. The peace they bring him and the nostalgia he feels from them.
The woods are much cooler with the surrounding trees shading it from the
sun, but it is still fairly warm. Excellent weather for what Harry would like
to do. When they come across a fallen tree, Harry thinks it will be perfect.
Harry grabs Louis hips, lifting him easily to sit on top of it, his feet no
longer touching the ground. He then settles himself in between Louis’ legs,
placing each hand on Louis’ shapely thighs. That action alone has Harry’s
cock hard, straining against his pants. He doesn’t say a word, just kisses
him with no pretenses of chastity, harsh and hungry, attempting to put all of
the emotions he is feeling from the day into the kiss. Louis begins
responding immediately, whining into Harry’s mouth as their tongues battle
for dominance.
“Fuck, Harry. Please,” Louis begs, breaking the kiss, the sound being
drowned out by the creek beside them. Harry is on board with that. At this
point, he is so far gone for Louis, he would probably do anything Louis
asked of him. He tries not to dwell too much on that thought, not having
time to properly consider it or even talk to anyone about it. He doesn't even
know who he would talk to, so he pushes it to the side like he does with
everything else in favor of kissing Louis’ neck, the material of his jean
jacket scraping along his jaw.
“Hop off,” Harry mummers against Louis’ lips, tapping his hip twice with
two long fingers. Louis doesn’t have to be told twice, placing his hands on
the trunk of the tree to push himself off, landing on the ground with a thud.
Harry doesn’t waste any time, turning him around so that Louis’ back is
lining up with his chest. Louis, probably on instinct, bends at the waist,
placing his hands against the tree trunk, pushing his ass into Harry’s groin, a
growl escaping Harry’s chest without his permission. Louis looks back at
him, smirking. The little shit. Without thinking, Harry’s hands come down
to land on Louis’ ass. It’s not hard, but still there. He freezes, unsure of how
Louis will take the action, but Louis moans. Fuck. Harry could die a happy
man right now.
“What are you gonna do?” Louis asks, biting his lip while looking over his
shoulder. It’s obscene, and Harry almost comes from it alone. Why have
they never done it with Louis bent over before? His ass was made for this
kind of view, and Harry hasn’t even taken off his sweat pants yet. Speaking
of which, Harry pushes down Louis’ pants and underwear, letting them fall
to his feet. He knows Louis’ cock is hard and heavy between his legs, but
he doesn’t go to touch it. He looks down, groaning when Louis’ bare ass is
right there. Chillbumps having broken out on the round globes probably
from the coolness of the woods and anticipation.
“I’m gonna open you up,” Harry responds, licking his lips at the sight of
Louis’ tight puckered hole. He almost wants Louis to fuck him, but Louis is
already bent over for him, perfect in the light of the day. Why would he let
that go to waste? They have plenty of time for Louis to fuck him. Maybe
even the rest of their lives. Fuck. Why did that thought turn Harry on even
more? His cock is now aching in his jeans, begging to be let out of its
confinement.
“Do you have stuff?” Louis asks, and they both know it is a dumb question.
They almost always have packets of lube and condoms on them since they
began fucking around in semi-public places regularly. Harry always comes
prepared, so he pulls out the lube and the condom from the pocket of his
tight jeans, then quickly undoes the button, pushing his underwear down.
He hisses when the cool air hits the overheated skin of his cock. He doesn’t
push his jeans all the way down though, since they are in a semi public spot
and his pants would be much harder to pull up than Louis’.
“‘Course, babe,” Harry responds, opening the packet with his teeth and
tracing Louis’ hole with a wet finger prompting Louis to hiss out a breath.
Louis moans when Harry pushes his finger past the tight right of muscle,
being enveloped in Louis’ warmth. Harry is so worked up now, he really
needs a distraction so he decides to talk which is something that is
somewhat foreign to him during sex. He grabs onto what little bit of
confidence he has as he swallows dryly, praying he doesn’t stutter or sound
like a fucking moron. Praying. What a concept. “You’re gonna look so sexy
at prom.”
“So are you. I don’t give a fuck what you wear. You’re gonna look sexy
regardless. Fuck. Harry, please, keep doing that,” Louis responds, pushing
his ass higher into the air, forcing Harry’s finger deeper as Harry begins
thrusting it in and out. Harry isn’t sure what he is going to wear to prom. He
may rebel and wear jeans and a t-shirt like he did at homecoming. He
knows it doesn’t matter to Louis which makes his cock twitch again. Yes.
Distracting. He needs to open Louis up before he comes.
“I can’t wait to be your date. I’m gonna have the prettiest date to prom in
the whole fucking school,” Harry tells him, pressing a second finger in
alongside the first. Louis moans, and Harry isn’t sure if it is at his words or
the second finger. Harry wastes no time beginning to scissor them, wanting
to move this along as quickly as possible because he doesn’t know how
much longer he will last with Louis bent over in front of him, the green
backdrop somehow making his skin look golden in the few streams of
afternoon sunlight filtering through the trees.
“God, Harry. Fuck,” Louis pants, pushing back against Harry with each new
thrust in, his hand firm on the tree beneath his palms. Harry wants to curse
the weather for being so cold since he has not gotten to experience this yet.
Nature loves Louis. Everyone loves Louis, so it’s not shocking that the
birds themselves seems to be singing along to louis’ moans, groans, and
pants with the creek providing a steady bass. The most beautiful song Harry
has ever heard, and he hopes to hear it again because Louis was made to be
fucked in the hills of bum fuck nowhere.
“Gods Louis, we need to do this in the woods more often. Fuck. You’re so
sexy like this.” He has no idea where the words are coming from. He tries
not to think too much about it, saying whatever comes to mind. Is fucking
in the wilderness a kink? It probably is for rednecks and hillbillies. Even
though Harry has always despised being counted among them, he is
suddenly perfectly okay with it because, holy fucking hell, a naked Louis in
the woods is what his thirteen year old dreams were made of.
“Please. Harry. Need you in me. I’m ready. Please,” Louis moans out when
Harry begins fucking him with three fingers. Harry nods his head, even
though Louis can’t see him, slowly pulling his fingers out. He makes quick
work of rolling the condom on. Louis gets on his tip toes, so that Harry can
line up, their height difference now obvious. Seeing Louis’ tiny VANS clad
feet on his tiptoes has Harry groaning as he sinks in, gripping his hips like a
vice.
“Want me to move, baby?” Harry asks, bending over to whisper the words
into Louis’ ear. Louis just nods, blue eyes wide as his blunt fingernails dig
into the bark of the tree. Harry’s couldn’t stop his hips from moving even if
he tried at this point, Louis’ tight heat feeling so good wrapped around his
cock even with the condom on. Harry wonders what this will feel like
without a condom. He has been meaning to bring that up to Louis. He
knows he is clean, and he assumes Louis is however it is definitely
something they should talk about. Maybe try to solidify what their
relationship is before they take that step because something about it seems
serious.
“You feel so good, Harry. Fuck,” Louis says, voice high and raspy echoing
off the the large trees surrounding them. Harry is surprised their noise
hasn’t scared away the birds, but they are still chirping away, their songs
matching the pitch of Louis’ whines spurring Harry on. Harry grips Louis’
hips tighter, picking up his pace a bit, while keeping his stance wide so that
they are mostly on the same level. Louis’ calves have to be killing him from
being on the tips of his toes for so long, but he doesn’t seem to be
complaining, too lost in the pleasure Harry is giving him.
“You’re so tight, Lou. Fuck. So fucking tight for me. Shit,” Harry moans,
the words sounding foreign to his own ears, his voice deep and gravely.
Harry doesn't know how Louis managed to bring this out in him, this
confident person who isn’t insecure in what he is doing, but he’s there, now
pistoning his hips into Louis’ waiting heat. Maybe he had been there all
along, but years of ridicule managed to almost smudge him out. He doesn't
feel like Louis has changed him, moreso helped him discover who he has
always been, or maybe rediscover.
“Oh God. Harry. Right there! Fuck! Oh God. Harry. Please. Right there!”
Louis screams, and Harry hopes no one is on the path. In all of his years of
taking it, he has never seen another living soul. He is pretty sure he and
Niall are the only two people who know of it. Maybe a hunter here and
there, but it isn’t a major hunting season, so they don’t really have to worry
about that. He is loving how loud Louis is being, the sounds going down
Harry’s spine and into his throbbing cock which is currently being squeezed
tight by Louis’ hole. Harry can tell he is close. Harry is close, too. Has been
for what feels like ages, so he reaches around listening as Louis cries out
when he grabs his leaking cock in a firm squeeze.
“Come on, baby. Come for me. I know you can. Show everyone we were
here. What we were doing,” Harry says, voice low and measured as he
concentrates on stroking Louis to the quick rhythm of his pistoning hips. He
can feel Louis’ whole body twitch as his orgasm approaches, and Harry is
ready. He is ready to watch Louis fall apart and catch the pieces. He is
ready for his heart to burst with pride like it always does when he makes
Louis come. His heart has already been bursting with something else that he
isn’t sure he is ready to name.
“Harry. Fuck. Please. Oh my god!! I’m-- gonna-- I-- I’m coming!” Louis
yells, whole body tensing, and Harry feels the sticky substance coating his
hand. Harry tries to catch most of it, the rest probably landing on the trunk
of the tree and hopefully not on Louis’ sweatpants. When Louis moans and
shudders again, one more spurt being released, Harry can’t hold his own
orgasm at bay any longer. He bites Louis’ shoulder through the material of
his jacket and shirt as he empties into the condom, his low growl muffled.
They stay there for a minute, both panting as Louis manages to hold up his
own weight as well as some of Harry’s. Harry gently pulls out, finding a
clean looking leaf to wipe his hand on as Louis pulls up his pants.
“Sodomy Sunday is my new favorite holiday, and I can most definitely say
that I have never had sex on a creek bank before,” Louis says, turning
around with a smirk.
“Welcome to the south. You are officially a hillbilly. You’ll be loosing teeth
before the day is over,” Harry responds with a smirk of his own, trying not
to laugh at Louis’ Sodomy Sunday remark.
“Niall will be so proud,” Louis says, making them both giggle at their
conversation. “Will I look cute toothless?” Louis looks so fucking beautiful
with the creek behind him, it hurts.
“Of course you will, plus it will make blowjobs a hell of a lot easier,” Harry
replies with a wink, causing Louis to fall about in a fit of laughter.
His chest actually physically aches when he looks at Louis during times like
this. Times when they are just joking around, laughing and smiling, even
now with snot and tears streaming down his face. He is so fucking happy.
He didn’t know it was possible for him to feel this kind of happiness. He
didn’t think he was deserving of it anymore after everything that has
happened, but Harry seems to have found the one person that can light up
his darkest day. He has found his sun.
___________
“So-- umm-- how’s the wedding planning going?” Harry asks, sitting down
at the table with his mom. He tries not to notice that his foot is still tapping
along to the beat of Dueling Banjos . Ever since he dubbed Louis an official
hillbilly after their impromptu trip to the woods, he has been humming it to
Harry at every opportunity. It has been a week now, and just when Harry
thinks he’s finally forgotten it, Louis hums it quietly into his ear again
setting off another two days of it replaying on a loop in his head.
Harry and Anne are alone in the house, and after many conversations with
Louis about it, Harry has decided to start trying to at least communicate
with his mom. She has been trying more, so he should as well. His mom
looks shocked by the question, but smiles after a minute, her dimples
popping. She looks younger somehow. Like meeting Robin has taken years
off her life. She is definitely happier.
“Good as can be expected with it being just over two weeks away,” Anne
responds with a smile at the prospect. They decided on a quick wedding,
wanting to do it before Harry goes to college. Harry still isn’t sure that he
will be going, but he understands their thought process. There is no sense in
having a long engagement if they know they want to be together, so his
mom and Robin have spent the last month planning everything out.
“Makes sense. Are you nervous?” Harry questions, feeling as though it is

the right thing to ask. He never knows how to speak to his mom, so he is
just trying to keep things light even though he kind of wants to talk to her
about something that has been plaguing his mind for the last few months.
Something he hasn’t told anyone else about, and he is desperately needing a
second perspective. A more mature perspective.
“Not really. Are you?” She asks, looking at him through her lashes as if she
is afraid he won’t answer the question. To be fair, a few months ago, he
probably wouldn't have. He probably would have just ignored her presence
all together and listened to loud music in his room.
“Kind of. I can’t believe he asked me to be his best man. I figured he would
ask his son,” Harry answers, telling her his true thoughts for the first time in
forever. Harry was floored by the request and accepted before he could
change his mind. He has been thinking about his best man speech, but has
no idea what to say. Thankfully the ceremony is going to be small and
intimate, just a few family members and close friends. Louis and Niall will
be there, which will be an added bonus. Gemma is even coming in from
college that weekend. She will be finishing up with her coursework right
around then, so it will be nice for her to relax.
“He loves you, Harry. You are important to him, to both of us,” she tells
him, but he doesn't really believe her. How could he when the last few years
have proven otherwise on her part? He tries to stamp down the anger rising
in his chest. She can’t change the past. He knows that logically, but it is just
hard to move on when he is still kind of hurt by everything. He wants to
give her a chance though for Louis and for Robin. Maybe even for himself,
it’s just hard not to get defensive. “Do you have a ride to get fitted for your
suit next week?” She asks, changing the subject a bit.
“Yeah. Lou said he could take me,” Harry responds with a shrug, the
mentioning of Louis reminds him of the reason he wanted to start the
conversation in the first place. He suddenly feels nervous. He wants to asks
her something, but he doesn't want her to be suspicious. He takes a deep
breath trying to calm himself. He needs another perspective or he is never
going to figure this out. He may actually need his mom for this. She waits
patiently for whatever she knows he is about to asks, looking at him out of
the corner of her eye. Harry takes another deep breath, closing his eyes.
“Umm-- Mom, can I ask you a question?”
“Oh course, Harry. I know that things between us haven't always been great,
but you can ask me anything. I am trying to be better, and I hope you see
that. I want to help, so tell me, what are you thinking about, hon?” Anne
reaches a tentative hand across the table, placing her much smaller one on
top of is. Her hand is warm and sure, and Harry kind of wants to cry. She
has been touching him a lot more lately, a pat on the shoulder, a squeeze of
his elbow, even a hug occasionally but this is the first time she has held his
hand. He kind of wants to hold on to it, afraid the moment will slip away
before it even starts. He is still so fucking hurt by her though, he is
conflicted. He hears Louis’ encouraging words in his ear which spurs him
on.
“How did you know that Robin was like-- the one for you?” Harry asks, his
normal speech pattern even slower because he is so unsure. He holds his
breath looking up at his mom. She looks shocked by his question, but seems
to be considering it, as if she wants to give him an honest answer. At least
she isn’t laughing at him like he kind of thought she would.
“Well, that’s a difficult question because it’s different for everyone. There
just comes a time when you know that you’ve met your person,” she starts,
and Harry doesn’t miss her choice not to use a pronoun or even a gender.
Does she know? Before Harry has time to panic, she continues, “The person
that you love so much, you heart feels like it is about to burst with it. The
feeling both hurts you and makes you happy. You feel like you are able to
breathe when they are around, and they just make your day better. Like you
can take on anything the world throws at you as long as they are by your
side and holding your hand.”
Holy shit. She just described everything Harry has been feeling about
Louis, everything he hasn’t been able to put into words. Apparently there is
a word for it. Love. Harry is in love with Louis. He probably has been for a
while but has just been too stubborn to identify it for what he knew it was.
Harry swallows, suddenly feeling sick with his next thought. “What if your
person doesn’t feel the same way?” Harry asks, voice hoarse and eyes
stinging. He isn’t sure that Louis doesn’t feel the same way, but how could
he? How could he love someone that is as broken as Harry? How could he
return Harry’s feelings when Harry doesn’t even love himself?
“Have you asked?” She questions, her blue eyes sparkling in the light.
Harry shakes his head, unable to form a response in fear of choking on the
lump in his throat. He knows it’s not possible, though. He knows there is no
way Louis loves him. “I see. Well maybe you should.”
“I can’t,” Harry tells her, looking down at his fingers, fiddling with his rings
deep in thought. There is no possible way he can voice that kind of thing to
Louis. He has a hard enough time talking about his feeling as it is. How the
hell is he just going to drop something like that on Louis when they haven't
even defined their relationship? How can Louis possibly love him back
when he hasn’t even said he wants to so much as date Harry? Harry doesn’t
blame him though. Harry is fucked up on the best of days, so why would
anyone want to date him?
“I understand. Talking about your feelings is hard, Harry. Perhaps you

should write them down. I know you keep a journal. If you can’t say them
outloud, the next best option is writing. You don’t have to even show this
person, but it could help you figure things out,” she advises, patting his
hand. Harry’s eyes widen because that is a damn good idea. Maybe he
should write about it. He may not ever show Louis, but at least it won’t
drive him crazy.
“Yeah. Thank you, Mom.” Harry looks up to meet her eyes, she looks
somewhat worried about him which is odd since he hasn’t seen her look
like that in several years now. She shouldn’t worry though because despite
his most recent inner turmoil, he is better than he has been in years. Sure
figuring out that he may be in love with someone that may never be able to
love him back is a bit panic inducing, but he doesn’t feel the need to curl up
on his bed or cut his skin. It is different, but welcome.
“You’re welcome. I hope I helped a little bit,” she says, watching as Harry
gets up from the table, eager to go to his room and get some of his thoughts
down on paper. “I love you, Harry.” He freezes when the statement slips
from her lips. He hasn’t heard her say those words in… well in years
probably. He doesn’t even remember the last time she said it to him. He
doesn’t say it back. He knows he isn’t ready for that yet. He just figured out
his feeling about Louis, and so thinking about his feelings over his mom
just isn't possible today. He does give her a smile though, hopefully telling
her that he may say it again someday. She smiles back, as if she
understands.
Chapter End Notes
As always, kudos and Comments are always welcome! I love them all!
They keep me motivated.
Magic Zone
Chapter Summary
Harry and Louis go to his tux fitting then the wedding is later that
week.
Chapter Notes
This chapter goes into to the theology of Eastern Religions. I am no
expert on those, but I do have some knowledge from my studies. Iff
you see anything wrong, please kindly point it out. I love to learn. If
you feel like something else should have been said, feel free to DM me
or something. I try to keep their conversations as organic as possible.
Special thanks to my amazing friends Zoe and Dana. Zoe is a writer as

well, so please her name to visit their Ao3 page and check out her
stories. They are both amazing people and even better friends. I don’t
know where I would be or this story would be without them.
Hide or alone you make it feel at home
Silence is not even there no more
You make it feel at ease something to embrace
A heart that's forever believing it- Volbeat
“What’s this?” Louis asks, looking at the envelope Harry has slipped into
his hand. They are on their way to the tux rental place, Harry going to his
final fitting. Louis insisted that Harry drive even though he would have
much preferred Louis to drive since they have to go to the next town over,
and he has never driven there before. Louis and Robin both say he is ready
for that though, so he is doing his best to keep his anxiety at bay, distracting
himself by giving Louis the envelope that has been burning a hole in his
pocket for almost a week now.
“Umm-- It’s from the scholarship,” Harry tells him, glancing over at Louis’
small hands holding the envelope that possesses so much hope to him.
Harry hasn’t been able to bring himself to open it though. It’s too much. He
is too scared. Every time he thinks about opening it, he considers the fact
that he could be rejected and his future will go down the drain. Everything
is in that envelope. The hope of getting out of this town and going to
college with Louis.
“Which one?” Louis asks, his eyes lighting up with excitement. Harry
hopes it stays when it’s open. He can’t handle the light in Louis’ eyes
disappearing. Harry can handle his own disappointment and heartbreak over
it, but not Louis’. Never Louis’. Louis is his happiness. He loves him. He
isn’t ready to say it outloud and doesn't actually think Louis returns the
feelings, but he loves him. He really fucking does and seeing any kind of
happiness fade from Louis’ face makes Harry’s heart hurt.
“The big one. The one that could pay for everything,” Harry explains,
swallowing down his thoughts and keeping his eyes trained on the road. He
hasn’t even had the thought to panic over driving on the interstate for the
first time. He just turned on his signal to take the exit, their destination right
off of it, so it shouldn't be too long until they are there. He is far too
panicked over the idea of what is in that envelope, and the fact that he is in
love with Louis. Louis, a person that may never love him back just because
he has a dick.
“What? Why are you giving it to me? You should be the one opening it,
Haz,” Louis says, eyes wide with the realization, looking down at the
envelope as if he is holding something precious. He very well could be, but
Harry tries not to think about it. He has been attempting to prepare himself
for disappointment. Good news like that doesn’t happen to people like him.
He tries not to have hope about anything anymore. It makes things much
easier when the inevitable happens.
“You found the scholarship and helped me apply. I want you to open it. I
have had it for almost a week, and I just-- Lou, I can’t bring myself to open
it,” Harry admits, turning on his turn signal to the parking lot of the tux
rental place, keeping his eyes on the asphalt, so he doesn't have to look at
Louis. He doesn’t have to see Louis’ face drop when he opens the letter to
find a negative reply. He does everything to not watch Louis open the
envelope, but he can hear the way Louis’ nimble fingers tear the paper. He
listens to the sound of the letter within being unfolded, then Louis’ sharp
intake of breath. Harry’s heart drops. He didn’t get the scholarship. He
knows it. He just does.
“Haz…” Louis sentence trails off, and Harry breaks. He parks the car and
looks over at Louis, who is reading the paper, his firm pink lips moving
along to the words printed on the page. Harry looks at the tux place, feeling
like he is going to cry. He told himself that he wouldn’t get his hopes up,
but apparently he had because his heart feels like it is in his knees. He
blinks his eyes a few times, hoping to keep the tears at bay because crying
over something that he can’t change just sounds counterproductive. He
holds his breath when he hears Louis’ voice again, preparing for the news
he knows it about to come. “Harry, you got it. It says here that you can go
to any school in the state, and it will pay full tuition and fees for up to four
years as long as you complete 30 credit hours per year and maintain a 3.0
GPA. Hazza, you fucking did it!”
“What?” Harry asks, his eyes snapping back to Louis’ face, who is now
smiling so brightly, the fucking sun is jealous of his radiance. Harry still
can’t believe it. He glances down at the paper then back to Louis’ face.
Louis has to be wrong. He has to have read it wrong. A very cynical part of
Harry thinks that Louis may be joking just because he thinks it would be
funny to mess with him, but Harry knows that is illogical. He knows Louis,
and Louis would never ever do that to him, not for something so important.
Louis can lie better than almost anyone, but he has never lied to Harry. Not
to his knowledge.
“You’re going to college on a full ride, Harry! I’m so proud of you!” Louis
exclaims thrusting the paper into Harry’s hands. Harry continues to stare at
Louis though. There is not an ounce of jest in Louis’ expression, just joy
and pride. He’s not lying. Harry looks down at the paper to read the words
for himself. The first word is ‘Congratulations’ and Harry doesn’t bother
reading the rest. Harry got it. He’s going to college. A feeling that can only
be described as elation floods his system, and before he knows it, Louis has
hopped over the middle console to wrap Harry in a tight hug.
“I-- I can’t believe this,” Harry says, taking in Louis’ scent, his warmth. He
blinks back tears of happiness, now, Louis holding him tighter as if he
knows. He savors the touch even though now he knows he doesn't have to
say goodbye to Louis just yet. They could go to college together. They may
not have to hide what they have there completely. They will be away from
Louis’ family. Even though they will still be in the south, college campuses
tend to be a bit more open minded, so they may not have to hide at all. Holy
fuck. They may be free.
“You did it, love. I’m so fucking proud of you,” Louis tells him, letting him
go in favor of kissing him, his mouth warm and sure on Harry’s. Harry
could melt. He can feel the pride radiating off of Louis, and it is making
him almost proud of himself. Is that a thing? Can he feel pride for himself
through Louis? Harry is so excited about the future now, the possibilities.
They both have gotten into every single college they have applied for, now
they just need to choose. Louis said he wants to choose together, and if
Liam and Niall just so happen to be going to the same one, then that is
great.
“Thank you,” Harry responds, when Louis breaks the kiss. He is still in
shock. He feels like it’s not real, but the letter in his hand says otherwise.
He is fucking going to college, and he won’t have to worry about money or
being in a large amount of debt when he is done. He looks down at the
paper again in disbelief reading it twice before it sinks in. He looks up at
Louis, whose eyes are shining in the afternoon sunlight, nodding as if to say
‘it’s real’.
“I guess we should go in. The appointment is in like two minutes,” Harry

points out, looking at the dashboard where the clock is currently displayed.
He doesn't want to leave the car though because in there, they will have to
go back to hiding what they have. Only four more months though. Four
more months until they are in college and finally free.
“Yeah. I can’t wait to see you in a tux,” Louis says, reaching for the handle
as Harry turns off the ignition. Louis doesn't know, but Harry is also going
to be getting something formal for prom. It won’t be like the tux he is
wearing for his mom’s wedding. He wants what he wears to prom to reflect
himself, and how Louis makes him feel. The confidence he has found
through Louis. What he wears will probably still be black, but he wants
Louis to be pleasantly surprised.
“Not that special,” Harry responds, but he can feel the blush on his cheeks.
He gets out of the car, shoving Louis’ car keys into the pocket of his tight
jeans and walks with Louis inside. The man recognizes Harry right away,
Harry having been there before and smiles in greeting. He thinks his name
is Thomas, but he isn’t completely sure.
“I have finished the final adjustments to your suit, Mr. Styles. If everything
fits properly today, you may take it home. Mr. Twist has already paid for it,”
Thomas tells them, leading them to the back room. Harry nods and smiles,
unsure of how to respond. He was with his mom last time he came, then
Robin the first time, and they usually carried the conversation. Harry still
feels awkward on the best of days, so talking to strangers is still difficult for
him.
“Thank you,” Louis replies, smiling at Thomas. Not for the first time, Harry
is so thankful for Louis. Louis is just good at everything Harry is not. It
almost feels like Louis completes him somehow. Harry tries not to think
about that and the overwhelming love he feels for the other boy. He has
thought a lot about what his mom said, about how he should tell Louis. He
has been working on a poem, trying to get his feelings out. He doesn’t know
if he will ever give it to Louis, but it helps him process things.
“Call me when you have it on; I’ll be right out here,” Thomas says, smiling
one more time and excusing himself, going through the door to the main
area, leaving Louis and Harry alone. It is still fairly early, so no one is really
in the shop yet. Harry looks at the black bag the suit is in reproachfully. He
almost wishes he hadn't brought Louis because he feels slightly vulnerable
at the prospect of Louis seeing him in anything other than his t-shirts and
skinny jeans. Louis has seen him naked, but for some reason, this feels
much more monumental.
“Let’s hope that it fits. The wedding is next weekend, so we don’t have time
for another adjustment.” Harry turns to the fitting room, and Louis follows
him inside without being asked. Harry doesn't mind, though. He has no idea
how to do a tie. Robin did it for him the first time, and Thomas did it the
second time.
“I’ll pray for you,” Louis says, with a smirk and a wink, putting his hands
on the hem of Harry’s shirt, pulling it upwards, over his head. For being so
short, Louis has gotten good at that. Not shocking with how often they take
off each other’s clothes these days. Harry’s not complaining, though. Never
complaining about the amount of sexual activities he gets to have with
Louis. He wishes they could have actual sex more often, but they usually
don’t get a ton of time alone. Louis still refuses to have sex at his parent’s
house during their ‘tutoring’ session, but will do everything but. Harry
doesn’t push the issue though, not wanting Louis to go too far out of his
comfort zone with that.
“Thanks. You take the western God, and I will take the Eastern Gods,”
Harry replies with a smirk of his own, but Louis doesn’t laugh. Instead, he
gets an interested look on his face, his cold fingers still on Harry’s skin.
Harry loves that look and wants to kiss him, so he does. He makes it quick,
not wanting to distract him from the conversation at hand, but he just can’t
help himself. Louis looks so cute when he is thinking about something.
“What are some of the Eastern Gods?” Louis asks, fingers working on the
button of Harry’s jeans as Harry tosses his shirt to the side. Thankfully the
dressing room is quite large, so they aren’t bumping into each other. Louis
looks down while he asks the question, even though Harry knows for a fact
that the other boy has no issues unbuttoning his pants without seeing.
“That’s a tough question because Hinduism, which is the main religion in

India, has millions of Gods. Religion in places like China and Japan is
interesting because they don’t really see religion in the same way we do in
our culture. Some would even go as far as to argue that theirs is more of a
philosophy or a way of life,” Harry tells him, helping Louis push the tight
pants off his legs, leaving Harry is just his underwear.
“So they don’t believe in God over there?” Louis asks, his brown brows
drawing together with his question. Harry’s cock twitches, but he silently
tells it to calm the fuck down because he is only in his underwear, and he
has a tux fitting to get through. Harry turns around to grab the shirt first,
pushing his arms through the white material. He can feel Louis’ hands on
the collar, helping him guide the starch laden material. It makes a scratching
sound against his bracelets, but Harry isn’t going to remove them. He can
deal with that for now. His arms will be covered for the wedding, so he
doesn’t have to worry there.
“It’s kind of complicated. I am by no means an expert since I have never

been to that area nor do I know anyone who is a believer. From my
understanding, they follow the teachings of various people like Buddha,
Confucius, Sun Tzu and Laozi, but they don’t believe them to be Gods.
Well not in the same way you see the Christian God. They don’t believe that
these men created the universe or anything of that nature, and they don’t
just follow one of them. Many people in that culture follow more than one
because they aren’t contradicting,” Harry explains, turning around.
“Wait. Do we know these people actually existed?” Louis asks, looking

down to button Harry’s shirt. Harry hates button. He hates doing them, and
Louis is well aware of this even though Harry doesn’t wear buttons that
often. It has just came up in one of their conversations. Harry is slightly
surprised that Louis remembered, but it seems he did because he is
currently working on the fifth one from the bottom, his small nimble fingers
pushing the plastic through the hole easily.
“For the most part. Sun Tzu is debatable, but his book, The Art of War, is
highly regarded in military forces,” Harry answers, grabbing the pants to his
suit, pushing his feet into the material, while Louis holds him steady, so he
doesn't fall on his face using what Louis refers to as his ‘bambi legs’.
“Wait. I thought we were talking about religion. Why would someone have
a religion or philosophical belief based on war? Christianity is a religion of
peace, not war,” Louis says, eyes on Harry. Harry snorts in response, but
Louis looks genuinely confused by that. Harry pulls the pants up the rest of
the way, tucking his shirt in as thinks about how to answer Louis’ question.
It is really hard for people in the Abrahamic faiths to understand eastern
religions because the concept is just so foreign to them.
“Have you ever heard of The Crusades?” Harry asks, buttoning his pants
and zipping them easily, looking down at Louis. Louis nods his head, but
still doesn’t seem to be understand Harry’s point. He looks like he is open
to it though, almost as if he wants Harry to tell him instead of wanting to
argue the point.
“Then you know they were a series of religious wars to gain control over
sites that both religions claimed as holy. The point is, Christianity isn’t a
religion of peace. Do you have any idea how many people were killed in the
name of God, historically speaking? Not just in The Crusades, but
throughout all of history? Christianity is so widespread because of war, and
their forced belief system. It’s hard to call a religion peaceful when they
would throw babies against a wall because their parents worshiped the same
God as them, but followed a different prophet,” Harry tells him. It is a bit
crude, but it has the desired effect. Louis’ mouth is open in shock. He
clearly knew what The Crusades were, but never thought of it that way.
Harry hates having to go for shock value, but it is necessary when someone
labels a religion as ‘peaceful’ when it is everything but.
“But Jesus teaches love and peace,” Louis insists as Harry shoves his feet
back into his black boots. The same ones he plans to wear for the ceremony,
so they can get the length of the pants correct. He has to admit, he is glad
that Robin decided on a suit that kind of fit Harry’s sense of style. It’s black
and the pants are on the tighter side. He doesn’t feel like a complete idiot in
the outfit.
“You’re right. He does, but his followers didn’t seem to get the memo. They
have been forcing their beliefs on people for centuries. If he was really
correct, and his teachings were sound then why would they feel the need to
force it? Why can’t they follow his path in peace instead of using force?”
Harry asks, grabbing his tie. Louis doesn’t say anything, just takes it from
Harry’s hands, and gets on his tiptoes to loop it around Harry’s neck, fixing
the collar over it. He doesn't seem upset by the question, but he does seem
deep in thought.
“I don’t really know,” Louis finally says, his gaze feeling as if it is going
through Harry despite the fact that he is currently tying his tie. Harry looks
down at him, unsure of what to say at this point. Theses types of
conversations are somewhat normal for them. Louis has had more and more
questions for Harry, sometimes just texting him something random when he
thinks of it. A few days ago, Harry was surprised to see a text message from
Louis about Noah’s Ark because he had been watching a documentary
about it with his family.
Harry replied back with a very long and thorough text about how there is no
evidence in all of historical records that indicates a flood that wiped out all
of humanity. The Ancient Egyptians were keeping records around the time
of the supposed flood, and there isn’t even a pause or gap, nor did they
write anything about it in their text. Not to mention the notion of having
every animal in existence, in different continents nonetheless, travel to
board a large boat is ludacris. The sloth alone only travels about a mile
every six hours, so it would have taken literal years for it to have made its
way to the ark. The life expectancy of a sloth is only about 20 years,
depending on species. Louis called him after that, where they got into an
even more detailed discussion. Harry loved it and hopes that he is teaching
him, but he isn’t sure what is going on in Louis’ head. He doesn’t know
what Louis believes anymore. He isn’t sure that Louis even knows what he
believes anymore. If the title of a the poem Harry wrote for Louis was
modeled after that discussion, no one needs to know.
“Louis, you know I’m not trying to like-- make you an atheist or anything.
As I’ve said before, I just want you to see the flaws in your own religion.
The religion that you allow to dictate your life and your happiness. Can you
truly be happy following everything that is written in the pages of the
Bible?” Harry doesn’t say anything about love, but it is implied at this
point. Harry isn’t sure that Louis loves him. If Louis still truly believes in
everything his family and church have taught him, then he can’t. Maybe
Harry has gotten him to the point though, where he doesn’t completely
believe all of the bullshit.
“I know, love. I do,” Louis tells him, finishing his tie and patting his chest,
finally meeting his eyes. Something about the moment feels raw all of the
sudden. Louis’ eyes are suspiciously wet, and his fingers are shaking ever
so slightly. Harry knows his words have gotten to him, but he doesn't want
to take them back. He was just stating the truth. Louis doesn’t fight him
when Harry pulls their chests together, wrapping his arms around the small
of Louis’ back. Louis’ own arms come up around Harry’s neck as he hooks
his chin on Harry’s shoulder, squeezing tight, breathing in deeply through
his nose. Harry kisses him on the cheek, unsure of what else to do to
comfort Louis who is obviously affected by Harry’s words.
“Mr. Styles do you need help?” They jump a part a the sound of the voice
from outside of the dressing room. Harry isn’t sure how long they were
hugging in the comfort of the small room, but it had to be a while for
Thomas to have interrupted.
“No. We’re good,” Louis says, smiling at Harry as he hands him the suit
jacket, helping him pull it up on his shoulders. Harry isn’t sure if Louis is
talking to him or Thomas. Are they good when their future seems so caught
in the balance? Earlier, Harry felt hope for his relationship with Louis, but
now he isn’t sure. If Louis can’t get past some of the shit written in the
Bible, then they don’t have a future at all. Harry returns Louis’ smile,
having faith, for the first time in a long while, that maybe everything will
work out.
__________
“I’m nervous, Lou,” Harry admits, looking at Louis with desperate eyes.
Louis tries to give him a reassuring smile as they make their way over to
shelter for the reception of the wedding. Louis couldn’t get over the
difference in Anne from the first time he saw her. She smiles more, for one.
She also touches and speaks to Harry often, hugging him several times
during the actual ceremony when he walked her down the makeshift aisle,
then joined Robin as his best man. Harry looks so handsome in his tux, his
dark curls done up into a quiff; Louis just wants to find somewhere to take
it off of him.
“I know, love, but you’ll be great,” Louis tells him, threading his arm under
Harry’s suit jacket to get closer to his skin. The sun is warm, but it isn’t
overly hot. It really is a beautiful day for a wedding in the park. They are
actually near the location that is somewhat special to him and Harry. He
would never tell Anne that, of course. The ceremony was short and simple,
without mention of God. The person marrying them wasn’t even holding a
Bible, and Louis kind of appreciated that. They promised themselves to
each other, and not to God which was foreign to Louis, but he found he
kind of preferred it. Like Harry has pointed out in the past, marriage isn’t
strictly a Christian tradition.
“What if I like stutter or something?” Harry asks, and he has asked Louis
that question at least half a dozen times just today. Louis’ response is
always the same.
“Then you will take a deep breath and move forward. I know you can do it,
Haz, and I know whatever you wrote will be amazing,” Louis says,
squeezing the small love handle on Harry’s hip. It’s one of his favorite
locations on Harry’s body. If Harry allows him to top again, Louis would
like to take full advantage of it. Louis shakes his head out of the fantasy,
seeing that they have made their way to Anne and Robin, who are talking to
a few guests. Harry said the ceremony would be small, but Louis had no
idea that it would only be about 30 or so people.
“You look beautiful, Mrs. Styles. Well, I guess it’s Mrs. Twist now,” Louis
compliments, smiling at Anne. He isn’t lying. She does look beautiful in her
fitted white dress, her hair in a messy updo with small white flowers woven
throughout. She looks radiant and happy, as if ten years has been lifted off
of her life in the past few months. It is very similar to her son’s own
transformation since Louis met him. Harry still has bad days, of course. He
still seems to have days where he is anxious or his sleeping is terrible, but
they aren’t as often. He smiles more, and that, well that just makes Louis
happy.
“Thank you, Louis. You’re very kind, but I’ve told you before to call me
Anne,” she says, giving him a hug. Robin shakes his hand warmly, glancing
over to Harry while doing so. Louis knows Robin a bit better than he knows
Anne, but that is mostly because of their trip to the concert. “Niall! How are
you? And who is your friend?” Anne asks, eyes lighting up when she spots
Niall coming towards them followed by Liam. Louis was surprised to see
Liam there, but hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to him during the ceremony
and the pictures that followed. Even though Louis wasn’t in the wedding
party, Anne still insisted on him being included in some of the pictures. He
even had a few taken with just Harry which he thought was odd,
considering that she didn’t ask Niall. Louis kind of wonders if she knows,
but he tries to push that thought aside, too panicked by the very idea.
“This is Liam. I brought him as my plus one. I don’t know if you’ve met
him, but he and Harry are great friends,” Niall tells her, smiling at his own
comment, prompting Louis to smile, too. Harry opens his mouth to deny it,
but quickly shuts it because Louis knows he can’t. Harry and Liam are
friends now, whether Harry wants to admit it or not. Liam knows Harry’s
biggest secret and has kept it for a while now. They hang out together, and
they talk a lot. Louis has even seen, on more than one occasion, Harry
texting him about one thing or another. Louis hasn’t looked, just noticed
while they were cuddled on Louis’ bed when Harry was supposed to be
tutoring him.
“I haven't, but it is very nice to meet you Liam. Thank you for coming,”
Anne says, shaking Liam’s hand who is blushing at Niall’s comment.
“Sorry for crashing your wedding,” he apologizes with a genuine smile,

shoving his hands into the pockets of his dress pants.
“No problem. Any friend of Harry’s is always welcome,” Robin responds,

also shaking Liam’s hand. They already like Liam, Louis can tell. Liam is a
likable person, though. There is a warmth and kindness about him that just
spreads through to anyone he meets. Harry was honestly doomed from the
start because Liam is just a good guy. If Harry hated him just because he is
popular, then that would make him a hypocrite. Louis thinks he has pointed
that out to Harry in the past, but can’t be sure.
“Harry, it’s time for your best man speech,” Gemma announces, coming up
to the group, putting her arms around Louis and Harry’s shoulders,
separating them while smiling at Harry, her dimples popping. She is
wearing a black dress, having also been a part of the wedding party. She
dyed her hair recently, now a shade of light brown, almost blonde. “Oh, hey,
Ni and…” Her sentence trails off, looking at Liam.
“Oh, I’m Liam. Harry’s friend,” Liam introduces, holding a hand out to
Gemma. Gemma removes her right hand from Louis’ shoulder to accept his
handshake, not being able to keep the shock of Harry having another friend
from her features. Harry is very clearly blushing, looking down at his
pigeon-toed feet. Louis reaches his arm around Gemma to pat Harry on the
back, in hopefully a soothing manner.
“Nice to meet you. Okay, Harold. You’re up,” Gemma says, patting Harry
on the back and pushing him forward.
“You’ve been hanging out with Lou too much,” Harry responds in relation
to the nickname. Gemma and Louis both smile, probably looking far too
similar. Louis gives him another more encouraging smile, looking over to
the front of the shelter where Robin and Anne are taking a seat at the table
specifically set up for the newlyweds.
“You can do this. You’ll be great. I know it,” Louis whispers to him when
Harry halts again, putting a hand on his lower back and pushing him once
more. Harry nods, and walks slowly to the front of the room while Louis
takes his seat at a table with Gemma, Niall and Liam. Louis can tell that he
is nervous as he swallows, looking around at the small gathering of people.
He reaches into his pocket for his note cards as he keeps eye contact with
Louis, and Louis smiles, hoping to help calm his nerves a bit. Harry takes a
deep breath before his low voice starts carrying across the small shelter.
“Thank you all for joining us today to celebrate my mom marrying the love
of her life,” Harry starts, and Louis is already incredibly proud of him. He
feels like his chest is going to burst with it. Louis knows he probably has
the fondest expression on his face right now, but he can’t find a fuck to
give. Harry has just come so far in such a short amount of time, it is
astounding. Louis wants to cry. He blinks a few times, watching as Harry
glances down at the cards that look small in his large slightly shaky hands
before he continues.
“I have to admit, I was shocked when Robin asked me to be his best man. I
don’t even know why I agreed, but I am glad I did. Robin has done
something that I had thought was impossible for a long time. He came into
a somewhat fragile family and helped us rebuild. He found love in his heart
for not only my mom, but for her son and daughter as well. He is the most
selfless man I have ever met, and I am so lucky he chose our family to want
to be a part of. At first, I did everything in my power to push him away
which I now regret. He didn’t deserve that, and I have been slowly learning
not to judge someone based on my own preconceived notions of who they
are. It wasn’t fair of me to punish Robin for the past mistakes of others, so I
am very thankful that he didn’t allow me to push him away. He never once
pressured me, nor did I feel like I had to let him in. He just proved time and
time again that he was there for me, despite my somewhat shitty attitude,”
Harry says, his voice wavering as he glances over at Robin, who is wiping
his eyes with a napkin. Everyone laughs at Harry’s last words, the honesty
in them feeling raw somehow.
“Mom,” Harry addresses, looking over at Anne who also seems to be

blinking back tears. “After Dad left, I didn’t think I would ever see you
happy again. Not after everything that happened, but every single day I see
you smile more and more. I know that things aren’t perfect, but I think we
are getting there. They will probably never be perfect, but there is no such
thing. We will never be a normal family, and that’s okay. I've always felt
that normal is overrated, and in all honesty, there is no such thing as normal.
Perfection isn’t something I want to strive for anymore; I just want us to be
happy. Despite everything, I have found hope for us and our future as a
family. Your love for Robin, and his love for you, has also taught me a lot
about my own feelings.”
“At the beginning of the year, I didn’t really believe in love, not after
everything that has happened in my life to prove otherwise. I thought it was
just some fake notion that idiots made up or just a chemical reaction in our
brains, however, every single day I see the look on my mom and Robin’s
faces, and I realize that it is more than that. Love is support and
understanding. It is knowing that, even if things aren't perfect now, they can
be better in the future as long as you have your person by your side. You’re
not supposed to be exactly like the person you love, you are supposed to
compliment each other. Your weakness is their strength. Your person is not
supposed to replicate you; they are supposed to complete you.” Harry looks
directly at Louis with this comment.
Suddenly Louis feels like he has been hit squarely in the chest by a fucking
train. His heart actually aches with the feeling that has taken over his entire
being. Louis loves him. He loves Harry with every fiber of his being. He
probably has for a while, but refused to acknowledge his love for another
man because it’s wrong. Hell, he almost said it out loud the night that Liam
confronted him, but he managed to forget about that moment. The
overwhelming feeling in his chest doesn’t seem wrong, though. It makes his
heart feel like it is both going to stop beating but also keeps it going. Why is
this wrong? Who says it is? What is wrong with love? The love he has for
Harry that he can no longer deny. He wants to tell Harry how he feels, but
he doesn’t think he should. He doesn’t want Harry to freak out. Louis
makes the decision then that he won’t say it until Harry does.
“So with that, I would like to be the first to wish my mom and Robin a very
happy life together, and I would also like to be the first to welcome Robin
into our family. It’s little and broken, but it’s still good. And yes, in case
you are wondering, that is a line from a Disney movie. What can I say?
Stitch is a philosopher,” Harry jokes, prompting everyone, including Louis
to laugh, even though he almost wants to cry. Louis discreetly wipes his
eyes, looking around at all of the other sniffling guests, also touched by
Harry’s speech. He begins clapping when Harry bows his head ever so
slightly, then walks away from the front of the shelter, taking a seat by
Louis.
“That was wonderful, Haz. Just wonderful. I’m so proud of you,” Louis
tells him truthfully, squeezing his shoulder. Harry blushes and looks down
at his plate, and Louis has the overwhelming desire to kiss him. If they
weren’t surrounded by people who have no idea what they are hiding, he is
sure he would have. He is so frustrated by that fact, he balls his hands into
fists under the table. He just wants to express his love for this boy. This
wonderful amazing boy that somehow captured Louis’ heart despite his
belief that what they have is wrong. Louis loves him so much, it hurts, but
he can’t show that love in public because of what a book said thousands of
years prior. The book may be wrong, though, because Louis doesn’t see
how his feelings are anything but genuine and honest. Him kissing Harry
right now wouldn’t hurt anyone. How is it any different than if he were to
kiss Willow in a crowd of people? It shouldn’t be, but it is, all because of a
book. Holy fuck.
“I know you boys are underage, but it’s a party. Let’s drink,” Gemma says,
interrupting Louis’ train of thought. He snaps his head up, feeling like he
has been zoned out for an hour when it was really only a matter of minutes.
Gemma is grinning at the boys around the table, give each of them a glass
of champagne which Louis’ accepts.
“You okay,” Harry mummers in Louis’ ear, taking a sip of his fizzy drink
before sitting it down, making sure Gemma isn’t paying too much attention
to them. She is too busy giving Niall a hard time because he made a face
when he first took a drink. Louis thinks they are safe. He wonders if any of
Harry’s family would care if they knew about Harry and Louis. He honestly
doesn’t think they would. Robin has hinted at knowing on more than one
occasion, while both Gemma and Anne act as if they know there is
something more to it.
“Yeah. I’m fine, love,” Louis whispers back, pushing the thought to the
back of his mind, joining Gemma in teasing Niall. It is his favorite pastime,
second only to anything involving his curly haired boy. Louis manages to
evade all thoughts of the Bible and love as the day continues, almost
forgetting them entirely. They spend the rest of the afternoon talking,
laughing, and getting completely shitfaced. Louis meets Robin’s children,
Anne’s friends from work, and some of Robin’s other family members.
“Wanna go back to my place for a little while?” Harry murmurs in Louis’

ear when the guest start to disperse and the sun is beginning to fall below
the horizon. A thrill goes through Louis’ system at his words. He is
supposed to be back home no later than 9pm, so he has time. Harry has
gotten closer to Louis’ back, pressing his pelvis into Louis’ ass so that
Louis can feel Harry’s dick beginning to fatten. Louis glances back to see
Harry smirking, his cheeks pink from the alcohol running through his
system. Louis’ own dick twitches at the thought.
“What about your mom and Robin? Gemma?” Louis asks, looking around
to make sure everyone is distracted before he turns around, placing his
hands on Harry’s hips, bringing them even closer together. Someone could
very well see, but Louis doesn't care, the alcohol in his system making him
give zero fucks about what they think. All he cares about is the boy in front
of him, the smell of sweet champagne on his lips that Louis wants
desperately to taste.
“Mom and Robin are getting a hotel for the night, then leaving tomorrow to
go on their honeymoon. Gemma is going to hang out with some of her
friends in town. Probably won’t be home until late,” Harry supplies, smiling
down as if proud he has already thought ahead. Louis blinks a few times,
then returns his smile. After they say their goodbyes, pretending Harry is
going to walk Louis home since apparently he doesn’t know they way, they
walk quietly, just wanting to get there. Louis can feel the anticipation
prickle his skin, the titillation coming off of Harry in waves. Thank God the
park isn’t that far from Harry’s house because Louis is impossibly close to
just pushing Harry behind the nearest bush and having his way with him.
“Shower?” Harry asks against his lips as soon as they are through the
threshold of the living room. That’s a great idea. Louis feels sticky, the heat
of the sun on his warm clothes making him sweat. A nice shower is called
for, he thinks, and they have time. Plus seeing Harry wet and glistening just
seems like a fantastic idea to his inebriated brain. He isn’t as drunk as he
was during the Halloween party, but he is definitely tipsy. Harry doesn’t say
anything, just takes his hand and leads him up the stairs.
“Get the water ready,” Harry tells him, then goes into his room. Louis’ isn’t
sure why, but he does as Harry asks, turning the water on. It’s not their first
shower together, but they usually have to rush through one after sex, so this
may be a nice change of pace. Harry returns a few minutes later. Louis
notices the material of his sleeve on his left arm is bunched up, as if he
pushed it up. Louis realizes that he probably put his bracelets on, not
wanting Louis to see his scars yet. Louis wonders if Harry will ever allow
him to see them. He forgets his train of thought when he sees what Harry
has in his other hand. Lube. Fuck.
“Did I tell you how sexy you look in your suit?” Louis asks, sauntering up
to Harry in the small bathroom. The air around them is beginning to feel
heavy with their arousal and the steam from the water heating up. He
positions his hand on Harry’s warm chest between the jacket and the white
button up, allowing it to rise and fall with Harry’s breaths. He places both
hands under the material then pushes it off his shoulders, causing the item
to fall to the floor. He has helped Harry put the suit on, but never had the
pleasure of taking it off of him before.
“Thank you. You look amazing in yours, too,” Harry responds, smiling
down at Louis before he takes Louis’ gray jacket off in a similar manner.
Harry bends down to kiss Louis, keeping it gentle yet passionate. Louis
returns it, untucking Harry’s shirt, and undoing the buttons quickly.
Thankfully Harry doesn't have to fiddle with small buttons on Louis’ shirt,
since he opted to wear a simple black t-shirt under his formal jacket. They
continue kissing as they slowly remove each other’s clothing until both of
them are naked and panting. Harry puts his hands on Louis’ hips, breaking
their kiss to allow them to step under the spray of the shower.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Lou,” Harry says, tracing Louis’ cheekbone as

he pushes Louis’ head under the spray, getting his perfectly crafted hair wet.
Thankfully neither of his parents saw him leave that morning, so they had
no idea how his hair was fixed in the first place. He wouldn’t have to
explain that one away which he has been doing a lot lately with his parents.
He feels like he is constantly walking a tightrope with them, wondering
when the other shoe will drop. They just need to make it to college. They
are so close to some sort of freedom, Louis can almost taste it.
Harry starts with Louis’ hair, putting shampoo in it then using his long
fingers to massage his scalp, scratching the skin making Louis’ eyes close
in bliss. Harry’s fingers are magical, but Louis already knew that. Harry is
magical. Harry rinses his hair just as carefully before putting some body
wash in his palm, working it into a lather on Louis’ chest. Harry carefully
avoids Louis now aching dick and balls, as he washes his legs and feet.
Finally, his hand comes up to Louis’ cheeks, spreading them before
washing Louis’ tight hole. Louis moans in response, closing his eyes at the
sensation of Harry’s fingers against him.
When Louis goes to start on Harry’s hair, Harry stops him by holding his
hands. He wraps his arm around Louis’ waist, maneuvering their bodies so
that Harry is now under the spray, his pale skin glistening with moisture,
and Louis wants to trace every single fucking drop with his tongue. He has
never been jealous of water, but he is now because water is getting to travel
the contours of Harry’s body like a map, making new paths in otherwise
unexplored territory. Louis is most definitely jealous of the water.
“You are being very thorough,” Louis muses, eyes closed and mouth open
as Harry’s finger presses into his hole just enough to tease him, the water
helping the slide. Louis wants to cry when Harry removes the digit, then
begins rinsing Louis off, hands traveling over his body still avoiding his
aching erection. Fuck.
“You know what they say about cleanliness,” Harry says, mouthing Louis’
collarbones, sucking a bruise that Louis will admire later. Louis is so
distracted by Harry’s mouth on his skin, it takes him a moment to figure out
what Harry is referring to.
“That it’s next to Godliness?” Louis asks, laughing a bit at his comment.
Harry pulls his lips from Louis neck to give him a smile, his green eyes
sparkling in the light of the bathroom, his curls getting longer and sticking
to his forehead and neck. Louis has decided he likes the fact that Harry is
letting his hair grow. He never thought he would be into longer hair on men,
but then again he never thought he would be into goth kids who paint their
nails and wear eyeliner on a semi-regular basis. Things change. Beliefs
change. Louis has learned that.
“Yeah. That never made sense to me, though. Shouldn’t you always want to
be clean. What does cleanliness have to do with God?” Harry asks, and
Louis stops to think about it. That is a very good question. There are so
many little things that Louis has always said that he never thought about the
meaning behind. That he never stopped to actually question.
“Things never make sense about religion to you,” Louis responds, tilting his
head up so that Harry can kiss his neck, biting down on the skin, marking
him in yet another location. Harry makes a sound in agreement, not
removing his lips long enough to form words. Louis isn’t complaining.
Harry has found the spot on his neck that makes his eyes roll back in his
head and his dick twitch between his legs. Harry knows his body now. He
knows what to do to drive Louis crazy. Harry is a very quick learner, after
all.
“Has anyone ever told you that when water collects in droplets on your
eyelashes, then fall down your cheeks, it forms a path along your freckles
that I want to trace with my tongue?” Harry asks, his voice almost
conversational as he peers into Louis’ eyes. Louis shakes his head, too
shocked by Harry’s words to give an actual reply. Harry then leans down,
kissing his nose then various places along Louis’ cheekbones. Louis
releases a whimper before he even realizes the sound is coming from him.
“Harry,” Louis mummers, trying to keep his eyes open under the warm
spray of water, wanting to see him. His beautiful, perfect boy that he loves
so much it hurts. Louis almost tells him then. He almost confesses his
thoughts, but he holds his breath instead. He knows that if he tells Harry
there is a very good chance that Harry will think Louis is just trying to play
with his emotions, or worse, run away from him completely. Louis’ chest
aches with the need to tell him, but he can’t. Harry has to say it first.
“Hands against the wall,” Harry instructs, snapping Louis out of his
spiraling thoughts. Louis blinks up at him, as his large hands land on Louis’
hips turning him around, so that he is facing the wall. Harry keeps his grasp
firm, so he can’t step closer to the wall as Louis obediently places his palms
on the wet surface, having to bend to reach. He has no idea what Harry has
planned, but his skin prickles in anticipation. His dick is just hanging
between his legs, neglected and untouched. He feels Harry’s foot on the
inside of his ankle, a silent gesture for Louis to widen his stance. Louis
doesn’t look back, trusting Harry completely. He hears the cap pop on the
lube, mingling with the sound of the water hitting Harry and the tiles. Louis
lets out a gasp in surprise, expecting to feel Harry’s fingers. Instead, the
unmistakable sensation of Harry’s wet hot tongue is on his hole.
“Holy shit, Harry,” Louis breaths out, glancing behind him to find Harry on
his knees, face between Louis’ cheeks. Harry uses two big hands to spread
him, diving his tongue in deeper, licking Louis open. Louis scrambles for
purchase on the tiled wall, finding none on the slippery surface. His balls
are full on aching now, tight against his body. He was not expecting Harry
to do this, but he isn’t fucking complaining. He is no longer thinking about
his feelings anymore, just Harry’s tongue in his ass as he devours him.
“I have been wanting to taste you forever,” Harry mummers, his deep voice
barely audible amongst the sounds of the water falling around them. For
Harry having never done this before, he is already a pro, his tongue licking
in perfect broad strokes making Louis moan with abandon. Louis isn’t
shocked. They have already established Harry is a quick learner, probably
the smartest person Louis has ever met. Louis feels like he needs to be
touched or he may die. He slowly removes one of his hands, letting it fall to
his aching shaft.
“I said, hands on the wall.” There is a sternness of Harry’s tone, brooking

no room for argument, so Louis quickly releases his dick as if he has been
burned, placing his hand back on the soaked surface, keeping his eyes there
because if he watches Harry, he may actually come. Next he feels Harry’s
slick finger at his hole, pressing in easily since he is so relaxed from Harry’s
tongue. “Good boy,” Harry says, his voice deep with arousal, sending a
shiver down Louis’ spine. He has no idea where this is coming from, but he
hopes it never leaves.
“Fuck. Harry. Jesus,” Louis moans, when Harry’s tongue traces his rim that
is currently stretched around his finger. He spreads his legs further, pressing
his ass into Harry’s face, needing more. It has the desired effect because
Harry’s finger goes deeper, grazing his prostate prompting Louis to moan
again. His whole body feels like it has been doused in flames despite the
now cooling water falling down around them. He briefly wonders how the
water isn’t steaming, completely evaporating when it touches the expanse
of his overheated skin, as if it has been thrown on the Devil himself.
“Jesus isn’t here, love. I think you’re mistaken. Perhaps you should worship
this instead.” Harry’s voice is deep and sinful; Louis can feel the wicked
words on his wet hole. Louis doesn’t have time to think of a proper
response because Harry adds another finger, pressing hard against his
prostate. Louis cries out at the sensation, all thought lost besides the desire
to come. His legs are now shaking with need, but his dick hasn’t been
touched. He can’t come completely untouched. He has always had some
type of friction on him to help his orgasm along. He has nothing this time.
“Please, Harry. God, please.” Harry may be the one on his knees, but it’s
Louis who is praying. He isn’t praying to God, no. He is praying to Harry.
Praying that Harry lets him come soon before he combusts. Maybe Harry is
right. Maybe he should be worshiping this. Something that is so real, Louis
feels like he could die with the sensation. Maybe his faith has been put in
the wrong thing all along when, in reality, it needed to be put in Harry’s
large hands, one of which is currently gripping his ass cheek tightly.
“Hear that?” Harry asks, and Louis freezes. He doesn’t hear anything but
the blood rushing to his ears and the water falling around them. He
concentrates for a few seconds, attempting to take his attention away from
Harry’s long fingers inside of him to really listen. There it is. The
unmistakable noise of Harry wanking, wet slapping sounds getting louder,
echoing in the shower. Holy shit. Is Harry-- Is he… “I could come just from
your taste alone.” A shiver goes down Louis’ spine, his body literally
shuddering with arousal. Harry is getting off to this.
“Fuck Harry. I didn’t know you’d like this so much,” Louis says, moaning
the last few words, placing his cheek against the wet tile. He bows his back,
pushing his ass against Harry’s face even more, trying to entice Harry into
putting his tongue back on him. It works because Harry scissors his fingers,
and licks between them. Holy hell. Louis isn’t going to survive a confident
Harry. No fucking way. He is going to die, and he may go to hell. At least
he will die happy. It will be worth it.
“Feels so good, Harry. So fucking good. Fuck right there. Holy shit. I--”
Louis sentence trails off as his eyes roll back into his head. He feels like he
is falling, but he isn’t moving at all, his feet still firmly planted on on the
floor of the tub. He just needs some fucking friction. He feels like he can’t
breathe, but he isn’t sure he even needs air any more. He just needs to
come. That’s it. That’s all he can think about. All he wants to consider.
Coming.
“Lou, I’m close. Shit. I’m gonna come with my mouth on you because--
fuck-- you are the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be,” Harry says, then he
licks into Louis, while pressing against his spot at the same time. Louis
recognizes those words. They were in the song Harry sang to him on New
Years, and for some reason, that’s what does it. He feels Harry release a
deep growl against his hole, and he knows Harry is coming. Louis closes
his eyes and screams, his whole body convulsing as rope after rope of hot
come is released from his untouched dick. Louis can’t believe it’s
happening, but it is. Harry pushed his body to do something Louis didn’t
think was possible.
“Fuck,” Louis curses after a few minutes or hours. The water has ran cold,
but Harry is still licking at his rim as if it is the best desert he has ever had.
Louis is shaking though, over sensitive now. He pulls away, hearing Harry’s
unhappy grunt, and turns around, looking down at Harry who is looking up
at him from his knees, smiling. Louis holds his hands out, and Harry takes
them, allowing Louis to pull him up from the floor of the tub. Harry silently
turns around, twisting the knobs until the water shuts off. They get out of
the shower and dry off.
“I forgot to tell you. I really liked your speech. It was lovely, Harry. I’m-- I
know this probably sounds strange, but Harry, I’m so proud of you,” Louis
tells him, suddenly feeling the need to say it. He almost says something
else, but bites his tongue yet again. Not yet. Harry doesn’t say anything in
response, he just smiles so brightly, his face lights up with it, his dimples so
deep Louis could fucking drown. That’s it. Louis is gone. He is gone for
Harry. There is no saving his damned soul.
Chapter End Notes
What did you think of Harry's speech?

Thank you all for reading this. Every week I am blown away by the
responses. Your feedback means so much to me, and I wish there was a
way I could reply you.
Personal Jesus
Chapter Summary
Louis and Willow have a favor to ask Harry then Louis take a bit step.
Later, Robin, Louis, and Harry have an interesting discussion when
Louis helps Harry and Anne move
Chapter Notes
CAUTION!!!! Harry Potter Spoilers!!!
Please remember as reading their discussions on theology, it would be

impossible to make all of the points. Just because you would have
argued it differently doesn't mean that his point is less valid. Most of
their discussions is how I have heard topic argued personally. If you
see anything wrong, please kindly point it out. I love to learn. If you
feel like something else should have been said, feel free to DM me or
something. I try to keep their conversations as organic as possible.

with the emotions/theme of the chapter. For this chapter, I included
both the Marilyn Manson and Johnny Cash versions of the song
because Johnny Cash is the fucking shit.
Reach out and touch faith
Your own personal Jesus
Someone to hear your prayers
Someone who cares- Marilyn Manson
“So do you have your prom dress already?” Harry asks Willow, making
conversation since they are the only two working, as he dusts off the
counter. Harry knows it is a bit of an awkward situation since Willow is
publicly going with Louis, but he and Louis are privately going together.
She is aware of all of this, but it doesn’t change the fact that Harry feels like
he is taking her date away from her. Willow and Louis are really good
friends now, legitimate friends, and Harry also considers her among his
friends, oddly enough. They have a lot in common, so it isn’t shocking.
“Oh yeah. It’s like a really pretty green. Here! I’ll show you!” She says,
pulling her phone from her back pocket. Despite the happiness in her voice,
her eyes still look sad and Harry, for the life of him, can’t figure out why.
He looks at pictures of her floor length green dress that fits her slender
frame perfectly and makes her red hair somehow looks even more red. It is
very pretty.
“I like that a lot,” Harry compliments honestly, once she finishes swiping
through the photos to reveal a selfie of her and Tara, smiling. It’s adorable,
and she blushes from his glimpse. He wonders if either of them have ever
spoken about their feelings. He knows Tara also has feelings for Willow.
They hang out about as much as he and Louis do, and Tara flirts just as
much as Willow even though she is a little on the shy side. It took her
awhile to open up to the group, but, just like Harry, she finally did.
“Really? I was worried I looked like a fucking Christmas Tree, if I’m

honest,” she tells him, and Harry can’t stop the loud honk of laughter that
comes out of him, totally not expecting that. Good thing it is a slow day at
the shop, because Harry would have surely turned a few customers’ heads
from his outburst.
“You’ve been around Lou too much,” he gets out between his laughs, and
she just smirks at him. He is going to miss her when they go to college,
seeing as she and Tara both still have another year, but they have all
promised to keep in touch. Harry is going to miss them even though he
would never ever admit that to anyone else.
“You’re the one he rubs off on,” Willow quips, hitting him on the shoulder,
and Harry feigns pain, grabbing his arm with an over dramatic ‘ouch’
making her smile even wider. Harry just nods, rubbing his arm with his own
wide smile. He doesn’t even pretend he and Louis aren’t fucking anymore.
Every single one of their friends know at this point, well except Tara. Tara
is the only one that isn’t in on their secret, which has been difficult seeing
as they hang out with her a lot at school and sometimes Liam or Niall forget
and say something that they will have to later cover for. Good thing Louis is
a fantastic liar.
“Are you and Louis going to match?” Harry asks, trying to keep his tone
light even though he is dying to know what Louis is going to wear. Louis
hasn’t told him so much as a peep though, the dick being far too good at
keeping a secret. It’s only fair though, Harry hasn’t told him what he plans
to wear either.
“I don't know. He hasn’t told me what he is wearing, and even if he did, I

wouldn’t tell you. That would ruin the surprise,” Willow responds, and
Harry pouts at her, knowing she can’t stand his puppy dog look. It is how he
gets her take his shifts when he and Louis may be able to have sex. It is
terribly manipulative, but she uses the same advantage on him when she
wants something. Harry doesn’t feel bad since it goes both ways. Harry and
Willow both turn towards the door at the sound of the bell above the door
ringing, signaling a customer has entered the shop.
“Hey, Lou! We were just discussing prom. What are you doing here?”
Harry asks, seeing Louis’ small figure coming through the door of the
music shop. Louis waves at him and Willow, walking up to them and
hopping up on the counter, his usual spot when he comes to visit. Harry
walks around to stand between his spread legs, placing one of his hands on
each plump thigh, and kisses him in greeting. Willow, being used to their
antics, pretends to gag then smiles.
“Stop trying to get Will to tell you what I’m wearing. She doesn’t know, but
the subject matter is perfect. I came as back up,” Louis tells him, smiling at
Harry as if he knows something Harry doesn’t. Harry ignores the first
comment and decides to try to figure out why the subject matter is perfect,
and who he is backing up for. Given Louis’ position on the counter, they are
at eye level with each other. Harry places both hands on either side of
Louis’ hips, caging him in and gives him a look. Louis glances over at
Willow, who looks guilty. Something is going on.
“What are you guys talking about?” Harry asks suspiciously, looking from
Louis to Willow then back again. He feels like he is going to get whiplash
at any moment unless they tell him what the fuck is going on. Louis just
looks smug while Willow looks nervous, pushing her red hair behind her
ear and looking down, seeming to find her ringed fingers quite fascinating.
Something is definitely up between them, so Harry stands back to cross his
arms and glares at his friends, waiting for one to break.
“Will has a favor to ask you,” Louis says, thumbing over to Willow,
bringing all of Harry’s attention to her. She looks even more nervous now,
and Harry kind of feels bad. He does his best to soften his expression. Even
though it kills him that Willow and Louis have a fake relationship, she is
still his close friend. They share secrets with each other in the safety of the
music shop where the only things listening are the musical instruments all
over the room. If she has a favor to ask him, Harry is more than willing to
listen.
“Come on, Willow. Out with it,” Harry says, looking at her. She bites her lip
before looking up, wringing her hands in a show of anxiety. Harry doesn’t
know what she has to be so nervous about. They talk all the time. They
were literally just talking a few minutes ago, but everything changed when
Louis came in. Willow must have been expecting him to show up. He is her
backup, apparently, even though Harry has no idea what for. It couldn’t be
that bad, could it?
“Well-- umm-- You know Tara was going to prom with Mikey, right?”
Willow asks, her words coming out quick and jumbled. Harry nods his
head. Not sure where she is going with this. “Well, Mikey has mono and
can’t go anymore. The doctors says he is going to be out of commission for
a while. He will even miss graduation. Anyways, she can’t go unless she
goes with a Senior…” Her sentence trails off and oh…
“We were thinking that maybe you could ask her to go,” Louis finishes
when Willow looks at him in a silent plea. Harry can’t believe it. What?
They are asking him to ask a girl to prom? No fucking way. He-- he can’t.
He talks to Tara a lot, but he has never spoken to her without Willow there
as a buffer. It would be so strange to ask her to go with him.
“Can’t Liam or Niall take her?” Harry asks, going to the next logical
solution to their problem. Louis shakes his head while Willow just bows
hers. This explains why Willow looked so sad when they were discussing
the prom earlier. He hates the idea of Willow being sad. She is such a sweet
person and doesn’t deserve that, so they need to find a solution. Fuck.
“Liam is going with Cordelia, and Niall is taking Julia. You’re the only
person that we know who she can go with that isn’t a total fuckwit,” Louis
answers, glancing over at Willow who is beginning to look upset. Harry
thinks about all of the guys he knows, and Louis is correct. They either
have dates or would expect her to fuck them. They couldn’t be trusted with
her. Harry would be the next logical choice, and even though Harry is
normally a very logical person, he is slightly panicking. He can’t. He can’t
take a girl to prom. He wasn’t even planning to go until Louis asked him.
“Yeah, and I-- I kind of had a plan at prom. A plan to tell her how I feel,
and I can’t do it if she can’t go,” Willow says, finally looking at Harry, her
dark eyes pleading. Fuck. He can’t be the reason she doesn't get to be with
Tara. She has been pining after her all fucking year. He can’t stand in the
way of that. Fuck. He feels like he is backed into a corner. There is really no
other solution is there? Would it be that bad, though? He likes Tara. They
get along just fine, and he would never try to take advantage of her. He
doesn’t even like women, like that.
“Fine. I’ll do it,” Harry agrees, and before he can even say anything else,
Willow is in his arms, jumping up and down excitedly while hugging him
around his neck and saying ‘thank you, thank you, thank you’ over and over
again. Harry is so surprised by the impromptu hug, he almost doesn't hug
back before she pulls away. Harry looks over at Louis, who is smiling
brightly and swinging his legs, looking proud, and Harry can’t for the life of
him figure out what Louis looks so proud about.
“You don’t even have to do anything. She already has a dress and a ticket.
You two can ride with me and Louis. It will be perfect,” Willows says
quickly, placing her hands on Harry’s chest. Harry looks down at her, and
she is smiling. She is happy, and Harry made her that way. He made
someone happy. Fuck.
“Good thing you agree, ‘cause she’s coming in,” Louis pipes in, gesturing
to the shop window were Tara is waving at them, her blond hair gleaming in
the early May sunlight. Harry’s eyes widen as he shakes his head at Louis,
saying ‘fuck no’. His heart already feels like it is about to beat out of his
chest just from seeing her after agreeing to this ridiculous plan. “Yes. You
can do it, Harold. All you have to do is ask her. If I could ask you, then you
can ask her. It won’t even be a real date. We will be right here.”
“Hey guys! How are y’all?” Tara greets, walking up to them and pushing
her sunglasses up into her hair, blue eyes scanning their individual
expressions. Willow’s smile is too wide as she goes nervously up to her
tiptoes then back down, wringing her hands again. Louis just smiles bright
and happy, as if he doesn't have a care in the world while Harry can’t seem
to find it in him to look Tara in the eyes. He feels like he is going to throw
up, anxiety gnawing at him. Why the fuck did he agree to this? Oh yeah, he
is friends with Willow and in love with Louis. He can’t say no to them.
Fuck. Things were so much simpler when he had no friends. Jesus tits that
feels like it was forever ago.
“Thanks for coming down, Tara. Harry, here, wants to ask you something,”
Louis says, giving Harry a shit eating grin. Harry kind of wants to punch
him or kiss him. He hasn’t decided, instead he steps forward, running his
fingers through his hair which does absolutely nothing to calm his nerves.
He takes a deep breath. He can do this. Tara is nice and funny. She has
never once made fun of him. In fact, he thinks if it weren’t for her strict
parents, she would be on the goth side herself. They’re friends. Fuck.
They’re friends. When did that happen? When did Harry go from having
one friend to more than he can count on one hand. How? How are there so
many people in the world that he considers a friend and that care for him.
Louis. Louis is how.
“Umm…” Harry starts, finally looking up to meet Tara’s blue eyes. A

different shade than Louis’. Tara’s are more of a sky blue, looking as if
there may be clouds floating around in them whereas Louis’ are more like
the ocean. An ocean that Harry would want to drown in if he still wanted to
die. He doesn’t though. He blinks a few times, focusing on the kindness in
Tara’s eyes before he continues, “Lou and Will told me about what
happened with Mikey. I know you were looking forward to prom, so I was
wondering if… maybe…”
“What?” Tara asks, her eyes curious. Harry swallows, looking desperately
back at Louis who just moves his hands through the air as if to say ‘go on’.
Harry closes his eyes and takes another deep breath. He can do this. If
Louis thinks he can, then he can.
“I was wondering if you would want to go to prom with me, instead? I don’t
want you to miss out on an amazing night because of some bad luck. I
didn’t have a date anyway, so we may as well go together. Plus, Willow was
really looking forward to you being there,” Harry says, probably pausing
way more than what would be considered normal during his small speech,
but it’s out there. He said it. He asked. It wasn’t as bad as he thought it
would be. He has no idea why he was so nervous to begin with, in
hindsight. He knows Tara. He knows he shouldn’t be afraid of ridicule from
her. He is learning to trust.
“Really?” She asks, excitement lacing her voice. Harry nods in response,
not really trusting his voice. “Yes! I would love to go with you! Thank you
so much, Harry. This means so much to me. I was really bummed about
missing the night with… umm… with Mikey,” she finishes lamely, glancing
over at Willow. Harry has very limited experience with girls, besides his
sister which doesn’t count because she is just Louis with boobs, but he
thinks Tara was about to say Willow and not Mikey. Maybe there is hope
for them yet.
“Great. Then it’s settled. You all can ride with us. I can pick Harry up first,
then we can grab Willow then you, Tara. It will be fun.” Louis claps his
hands together with finality. Maybe it will be fun. Harry takes a deep
breath, suddenly excited about the prom that is happening in just two
weeks. He thought he would spend this time loathing it’s very existence. He
didn’t even think he would go, but then Louis asked him in the cutest way
possible. He is hopeful. Fuck. He is so very fucking hopeful.
____________
“Tommo! Are you gonna get a hotel room for you and Willow after prom?”
Cory asks, coming to put his arm around Louis’ shoulder. Louis takes a
drink of his water. Practice hasn’t been that difficult today. Louis has mostly
just sat around talking to Liam. The season has been in full swing, but
baseball is quite possibly the most boring sport on the planet. It is almost
over and they probably won’t be going anywhere near the playoffs. Louis is
glad. It was never his favorite, football always being that for him. It was
just a great way to stay in shape during the off season. With the school
being so small, it is not surprising that most of the football team is also on
the basketball and baseball teams.
“Nah,” Louis answers, not wanting to encourage the other boy more. Louis
also has a bit of ‘senior-itice’. They are so close to prom and graduation,
Louis can almost feel it. All of the seniors have more or less checked out.
They have taken their tests, been accepted into college, and are ready to just
move on. At this point, they are all just going through the motions until they
are free for the summer. When the fall starts, then Louis and Harry will be a
little more free, another bar on their cage broken, one step closer to being
who they want to be. Louis still isn’t sure who that is for him, but he thinks
he is slowly figuring it out.
“Why? Don’t you wanna hit that?” Cory asks, and Louis can barely keep
the disgust from showing on his face because, eww. Willow is great, and
Louis knows she would probably be pretty if he were straight, however,
Louis is not. Has he admitted that out loud to anyone yet? No, but he can
kind of admit it to himself now. That’s progress, right?
“Don’t talk about her like that. Fuck off,” Louis says, putting venom in his
tone. Cory looks taken aback for a moment before he smiles, tightening his
arm around Louis neck, messing his hair up a bit. Louis immediately goes
to fix it, shooting a glare at his teammate, even though he is getting ready to
shower.
“Don’t get me wrong, Tommo, I love the church boy act, but we’ve all seen
the hickies on your neck and the scratches on your back. We share a locker
room with ya. We know you hit that already, and she’s a little freaky, so
spill the details, will ya?” Cory asks, and Louis comes impossibly closer to
barfing. He figures they think that Harry’s marks are from Willow, but that
doesn’t make it any easier to hear. He barely stops his tongue from saying
something that he will regret, but they are interrupted.
“Practice is over, boys. Go on. Disperse,” Taren cuts in, crossing her arms
over her chest and giving them a firm look. Thank God or is it the gods, he
hasn't decided yet. None of the boys mess with her. She is the athletic
trainer for the team and therefore at all of their practices and games. She
takes no shit, and is more than happy to put them in their place. Louis likes
her, and he knows some of the boys are intimidated by her.
“Bye, Taren,” Louis waves, pulling away from Cory’s grip and walking
towards the locker room. He showers as quickly as possible, leaving before
any of the other guys finish. He grabs all of his stuff and walks to the
parking lot, finding Harry where he is every Tuesday and Thursday, leaning
against his car, his legs clad in black skinny jeans looking long and biteable.
Even though Louis should be used to seeing it, it still takes his breath away.
When Harry sees him, he smiles, pushing his aviators up on his nose,
chewing gum while doing so. It shouldn't be sexy, but fuck Louis, it is.
“I’m driving?” Harry asks when Louis tosses him the keys. Harry catches
them, surprisingly, before he gets into the driver's side, having to move the
seat back before he folds his long legs in. Louis throws his bags into the
back seat, getting into the passenger side. He kisses Harry on the cheek,
after he triple checks to make sure no one is watching them.
“How was practice?” Harry asks, backing out of the parking spot. He has
gotten so much more comfortable behind the wheel. He is becoming a great
driver, if Louis does say so himself. He will definitely pass the test at the
end of the month, there is no doubt about it.
“Good. Cory is a dick, but we already knew that,” Louis responds, rolling
his eyes and pushing his wet hair off of his forehead smiling over at Harry
who is driving with one hand, the other resting on Louis’ knee. Something
about the moment feels very relationship-y, for lack of a better word. Harry
feels like his boyfriend. It feels like his boyfriend picked him from practice
and is now taking him home, where they are planning to hang out. That is
exactly what they are doing, right? Louis makes a decision right then and
there that on graduation day, he wants to make what they have between
them official in a sense. He wants to ask Harry to be his boyfriend. He
would do it before then, but graduation would be kind of symbolic.
“We did,” Harry confirms, nodding his head with a small laugh. It is
adorable and perfect and Louis wants to swoon. At the beginning of the
school year, he barely saw Harry smile. He still feels like he is a part of
some secret society every time he hears Harry laugh even though it is
common now. It is common for Harry to smile and laugh around Louis. A
direct contrast to how it used to be. Louis loves him. He really fucking
does, but he doesn’t know how that fits in with his faith. He isn’t sure he
even has faith anymore.
“When are your mom and Robin coming back?” Louis asks, threading his
fingers with Harry’s as they drive in the direction of Louis’ house. He
thought it was weird that Anne left Harry alone for so long, but then again,
Harry used to be alone a lot more than he is now. She apparently asked
Niall’s Mom, Maura, to check in on him occasionally. Jay has also been
doing it, however, Louis isn’t sure if Anne actually asked her, or if she is
doing it just because she loves Harry. Like mother like son, after all.
“Tomorrow. We are going to pack up our house and move in with Robin
this weekend. Are you sure you still wanna help?” Harry asks, glancing
over at Louis then back at the road, probably gauging his reaction. Louis
thinks the question is absurd. Harry has asked him at least a dozen and three
times since Robin and Anne left. He knows that is just Harry needing to be
reassured, which is something Louis is happy to do.
“Of course, I want to help. I have to see where you are going to be living
until we leave for college in August,” Louis reassures when Harry pulls into
his driveway, putting the car in park. At the mention of college, Harry gives
him a shy smile. That is actually what they are going to do today. They are
going to sit down with Jay and finalize their college plans. A burst of
excitement floods Louis’ system. Finally. Louis opens the door, walking
with Harry into his house, Harry not even pausing at the door anymore
before they go in.
“Hazzy’s here!” Phoebe screams as soon as they walk through the
threshold, both girls running straight into Harry’s open arms. Louis watches
fondly as Harry hugs them for a few moments before he smiles and stands
back up to toe off his boots.
“What am I? Chopped liver?” Louis asks in mock offence. It has become a

bit of a custom these days. They come in, Phoebe and Daisy greet Harry
like he is the second coming of Christ and completely ignore Louis. Harry
may very well be the second coming of Christ for all Louis knows.
“How was your day, today, ladies?” Harry asks after his shoes are off and
sitting beside Louis’ VANS, looking so much larger next to Louis’ shoes,
but they look like they belong.
“It was good, but Phoebe got gum in her hair,” Daisy tells them, as if it is
the most mundane thing to ever happen, but that gets both Harry and Louis’
attention, both gazes snapping to Phoebe's hair. It doesn’t look any different
though, just wet.
“Oh, no. Did you have to cut it?” Harry asks, looking directly at Phoebe.
Harry can now tell them apart better than Louis sometimes. He has no idea
how, but he can. He can even hear a difference in their voice, which is
something only Jay was able to do before Harry. Louis thinks it is adorable,
the relationship they have with Harry. Sometimes, they can convince him to
stay for dinner and either a movie or a board game. Those days are few and
far between, but Louis savors them. He loves having Harry at his house,
among his family, even when Mark is being a Class A dickwad. Harry has
been able to bite his tongue, which is more miraculous than the birth of
Jesus, which may not have been a miracle after all.
“Nope. Daddy says we not allowed to cut our hairs like he and Lou,” Daisy
says, swaying her hips so her dress moves to make shadows on the floor.
Harry glances over at Louis, before he opens his mouth to ask the question
Louis knows is coming.
“Oh really. Why’s that?” Harry asks, glancing around, probably to see if
Mark is in the living room. He isn’t, but Louis is pretty sure he is in the
bathroom. He should be home by now. He wasn’t supposed to be working
late or anything, so it is only a matter of time before he comes back in from
taking his evening shit. Louis wonders if he prayed about it.
“Daddy says that we are girls, and we supposed to look different than
boys,” Phoebe starts, looking at Harry and Louis with wide blue eyes.
“He says our hairs should be long enough to dry Jesus’ feet with, like Mary
Magdarin did in the Bible when she helped Jesus wash his toes,” Daisy
picks up in that weird way twins do, and Louis barely suppresses a laugh
because she completely mispronounced Mary Magdalene’s name. He
glances over at Harry whose brows have drawn in annoyance.
“So mommy worked really hard and got the gum out of my hairs, so she
didn’t have to cuts it. It hurt, but it’s all gone now,” Phoebe finishes
explaining, looking proud she and her sister remembered all of that. Harry
still looks irritated, but he is covering it well. The only way Louis can tell is
that one of his brows is still creased, but other than that he keeps his
expression neutral, somehow.
“And what do you think about girls having short hair?” Harry asks next,
and Louis is surprised by the question. Louis always just assumed that his
sisters liked having long hair, and they never wanted to cut it anyways.
Lottie is the only one who has mentioned wanting to do something different
to her hair, but Louis just assumed it was her being a teenager and wanting
to fit in with everyone else.
“I think girls with short hairs are just a pretty as girls with long hairs,”
Phoebe answers, and wait… what? Phoebe has actually thought about this
and likes shorter hair. Daisy has to disagree though. Daisy loves it when
someone braids her hair or puts flower pins in it. She has to like having
long hair like Louis has always believed.
“Yeah,” Daisy agrees, pulling her long blond hair in her hands, looking
down at it in thought. If Louis had known they hated their long hair, he
would have done something to change the rule. To be honest, Louis always
hated that rule with a passion. The girls are not allowed to cut their hair
more than just a trim, expected to keep it long and ‘feminine’ while Louis
was allowed to do whatever he pleased with his hair. It is a double standard,
and even Louis can admit it’s stupid. Just another way that Mark interpreted
the Bible that could be incorrect, but still affects the lives of his sisters, even
if it is in a superficial way.
“Then maybe someday you can have your hair how you want. It is your
hair, love. Always remember that,” Harry says, running his fingers through
Phoebe's wet hair and Daisy’s dry hair. Both girls nod in agreement, smiling
at each other. Louis sighs because he agrees with Harry, but that isn’t going
to make their lives any easier. They will probably spend the rest of their
years under Mark’s roof arguing for their right to do anything. The leash
Mark will have on them is going to be even shorter than the one he has on
Louis simply because they are girls, which isn’t fair at all. Louis fucking
hates him.
“Boys. I didn’t know you were here.” Speak of the dickwad, and he’ll be
sure to appear. Louis hears Mark’s gruff voice as he enters the living room,
prompting Louis to look directly at the person he is angry with. Mark is still
wearing his military uniform. He tends to do it only on days he knows
Harry is going to be over, as if hoping to sway the boy towards a life in the
military. He is already pissed at Louis for not following in his footsteps and
joining a branch. Louis absolutely refused and his mother sided with him on
this one. There was a fight about it last year, but thankfully Mark can’t
force Louis to sign any papers. Louis wouldn’t be surprised if he forged
them at this point, desperately wanting Louis to be what he views as the
perfect son. Louis may have given in this year, if it hadn’t been for Harry.
He and Harry can’t be together if Louis were to join the military.
“Yeah, just got in,” Louis tells him, watching as Mark sits down on the
couch, grabbing the remote to turn the channel to something that will
probably make Louis want to roll his eyes so far back into his head, he can
see his past mistakes.
“Your mom’s upstairs,” Mark says, not even sparing them a second glass.
Louis grazes Harry’s arm, a silent gesture for him to follow. Harry smiles at
the twins one last time before he climbs the stairs behind Louis who is
heading towards the office. He opens the door to find his mom sitting at the
computer, reading glasses perched on her nose. She looks tired. Louis
wonders if she and Mark had another fight. They used to hardly ever fight,
but it seems like that has changed lately. Louis doesn’t know why, but most
of their fights are over Louis. Louis feels bad for putting his mom through
that, but he can’t stop her from fighting for him.
“Hey mom,” Louis greets, gaining her attention. She smiles at them,
gesturing for them to come in. They each take a seat looking at each other.
Harry looks nervous, so Louis decides to do the talking.
“Hey, guys. What’s up?” She asks, taking off her glasses and looking
between them. Louis takes a deep breath.
“Harry and I decided we want to go to Stonewall University,” Louis tells

her, keeping his words slow and measured. Stonewall University is the
furthest they can get from home while still being in state. They chose it for
that reason, Harry having the desire to get as far away from the area as
possible. Louis wasn’t going to talk him out of it though, the further away
he was from his family the easier it would be hide who he is from them.
“Okay. We can call the admissions office first thing in the morning, get you
boys registered for orientation over the summer, maybe we could even take
a weekend trip up there to tour. Is that where Niall and Liam are going?”
She asks, and Harry shakes his head, dark curls flying.
“No. They are going to Morgan University,” Harry tells her, his voice
slightly sad. Louis knows it kills Harry that they aren’t going to the same
school as Niall and Liam, but they wanted to stay closer to home. Louis and
Harry couldn’t take that chance. Their friends understood their decision and
promised to hang out on weekends when they could. “That was our second
choice.”
“I see. Well it is your decision. I will miss both of you, though, but you will
come visit on the weekends. I'm just glad Louis will have a friend up there
with him. I’ll let Anne know. She is supposed to call me later,” Jay says,
nodding and smiling. Harry’s eyes are open wide in surprise, and Louis
can’t stop his own features from falling either. “Don’t look so surprised.
When I heard they were leaving town for their honeymoon I reached out,
offering to keep an eye on Harry. We talk.” Jay shrugs, and Harry
rearranges his features into his normal neutral expression. Louis really
needs to learn how to do that because he is still shocked as fuck, and
everyone in the room knows it.
“Well, we better get to studying,” Louis lies. They have zero studying to do.
He thinks they have only ever studied once since making the arrangement,
usually opting for something way more fun and stimulating. None of their
teachers are even giving them homework. There is only a week and a half
of class left for the seniors then its prom, with graduation the following day.
Who ever decided it was a splendid idea to make a bunch of hungover
teenagers spend hours waiting for their name to be called to walk across
stage for a piece of paper should probably be shot, but that’s exactly what
they would be expected to do. Louis is excited though. He’s got so much
planned for them over the summer including an outdoor movie theater, a
theme park, karaoke, and going to a nearby lake to swim and canoe. He
knows Harry has never done any of those things, and he can’t wait to see it
first hand.
“Okay, thank you for letting me know your decision. I think it is a sound
one. I am going to go downstairs and start making dinner. You’re welcome
to stay Harry,” Jay tells them, standing up, prompting them to do the same.
“Yeah, I think I’ll do that,” Harry says with a smile, then followers her out
of the room. She goes down the stairs while Harry and Louis make their
way into his room. Louis lays his backpack down while Harry sits his
notebook on Louis’ desk, then plops down on his bed. Louis loves how
comfortable Harry has become in his room, so very different than the stiff
boy he brought in here all of those months ago. Harry now treats Louis’
room as if it is his own, putting his stuff wherever and laying on Louis’ bed
without even asking. Louis wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Oh, don’t let me forget to bring The Deathly Hallows to school with me in
the morning. You can keep them with you until we leave for college in a
few months. I still can’t believe that she killed fucking Dobby. And Fred.
That killed me the most because I couldn’t imagine what Phoebe and Daisy
would do without each other,” Louis says, remembering the last installment
of the Harry Potter series he has hidden in suitcase under his bed. He sits
down on the bed beside Harry, hitting his ass, admiring the way it jiggles in
his black skinny jeans.
“Okay. I’ll text you, and yeah. I think Fred’s death was probably the hardest
for me too,” Harry responds, turning around to prop his head on his arm,
looking at Louis. He is so pretty, Louis almost stops breathing. It’s these
small moments, that feel as though they are between the seconds of time,
that Louis appreciates most. When Harry doesn't know he is being admired,
and he gets to just see Harry for who he is. Maybe in college Harry will no
longer wear his mask of indifference. Maybe the world will be able to see
the beautiful boy that Louis has come to love with his whole being. “Oh, we
should take the Pottermore sorting quiz!”
“You’re a Ravenclaw. We already know that. We don’t need a test to tell us,
and I’m a Gryffindor,” Louis says, knee walking so that he is laying down
on the bed, facing Harry who is smirking at him.
“You never know, you could be surprised and find you are not a
Gryffindor,” Harry muses, his smirk now a full blown smile, the white of
his teeth contrasting with his pretty red lips. Louis wants to kiss him. He
will, but right now he to act offended.
“And what are you saying, Harold?”
“You could be a snake.” Harry shrugs, but his eyes are sparkling in the light
like jade gemstones. Louis may or may not have passed his science final on
identifying various rocks with flying colors.
“I’m not evil,” Louis exclaims, holding his hand up to his chest.
“That is a gross misrepresentation of the house, and it’s values. Slytherins

aren’t evil, they are just misunderstood. They are very ambitious and
cunning with a strong loyalty to their family and those they love,” Harry
tells him, and Louis heart jumps at the last word even though the sentence
has nothing to do with his feelings for Louis. Louis tells his heart that it
does, in fact, want to continue beating.
“That sounds a bit like you, too,” Louis says, eyes transfixed on Harry’s lips
now, his dick twitching in his pants. Yup. He is definitely alive. No doubt
about that. “We can take the test later.”
“Do you have any other plans for now?” Harry asks, his lips inching closer
to Louis’ as if he knows what Louis is thinking. To be fair, he has no idea
how Harry couldn’t since Louis has been doing nothing but staring at his
lips for the better part of the last five minutes. Louis does stare at Harry’s
lips a lot though, it is becoming a problem. It’s not his fault that they are so
red and full though. They are fucking mesmerizing the way they slowly
form around words. Louis is almost positive he has every single way Harry
mouths each syllable memorized. That alone is hours full of wanking
material.
“Yeah,” Louis mummers against Harry’s lips before he completely closes

the distance, kissing him hungrily. He grabs Harry, pulling him closer, so
that their bodies press up against each other. He can feel Harry’s fattening
dick pressing against his hip as Harry moans into his mouth. They have to
be quiet. They should be used to this by now, but each time seems to be
more difficult than the one before. They're playing with fire, though. Louis
grabs Harry’s arm, and Harry gets the hint, moving so that he is resting in
the cradle of Louis’ legs. Louis wants him. He wants Harry more than he
wants to breathe right now. Fuck the fact that his parents are home. Fuck
the fact that Mark is sitting on the couch, just a few feet below them. He
wants Harry inside of him, and he doesn’t give a fuck about being under
Mark’s roof while doing so.
“Lou,” Harry whispers, grinding his now hard dick on Louis’, making
Louis’ eyes roll back into his head. He feels Harry’s big hands on his hips,
squeezing and Harry breaks the kiss to pull of Louis’ shirt, even though
they normally don’t get all the way undressed when they are fooling around
in his bedroom. Louis doesn't care though, he wants to feel Harry on his
skin. Everywhere. Harry has decided that biting Louis’ now exposed
collarbones is a fantastic plan, and Louis must agree. He thinks Harry may
have an obsession with his collarbones, but Harry would probably never
ever admit it. He loves to mark them though, knowing Louis doesn’t bother
covering them up as much since the only people who see him topless are
the people on the baseball team and Harry, of course. Harry is the only one
that matters, though.
“Fuck,” Louis whispers, when Harry’s hand snakes down to unbutton
Louis’ jeans, his large hand on Louis’s now impossibly hard dick a moment
later. Louis squirms a bit, then moves to push his jeans down his legs to
give Harry better access. He barely suppresses a moan when Harry strokes
him. Louis shoves his own hands up under Harry’s white band t-shirt,
wanting to feel his skin. He tweeks Harry’s nipples, the nubs becoming hard
under his ministrations. Louis is already shirtless, so fuck it, he grabs them
hem of Harry’s shirt and yanks it over his head, his dark curls flying with
the movement.
“Wanna suck you,” Harry says, using his arms to push himself down Louis’
bed so that he is settled between Louis legs. This strangely feels like the
first time they had ever fucked around in Louis room, but so much has
happened since then. So much that Louis can’t put words to, but all of it has
been monumental in some way. He feels like a different person now, so
maybe what they do shouldn’t mirror that. Just as Harry is about to wrap his
obscene lips around the head of Louis’ dick, Louis speaks.
“Fuck me,” Louis demands, keeping his voice steady despite the fear
flooding his system. He wants to do this, though. He doesn't owe Mark any
kind of respect. The more Louis thinks about it, the less Louis thinks having
sex with men is wrong. He tries not to think about it too much though. He
isn’t ready to admit it to himself yet, but fuck, he wants this now. He wants
to do something this reckless with Harry. He wants Harry to fuck him in his
room, under the same roof as Mark while he is sitting just a floor below
them, none the wiser. It’s kind of poetic in a way, if Louis was halfway
decent at poetry, that is.
“Are-- are you sure, Lou?” Harry asks, his voice uncertain as he studies
Louis’ face for any sign of ambiguity, his mouth still poised over Louis’
dick. Louis keeps his expression stern as he nods his head, wanting Harry to
know just how confident he is in his decision. Harry still looks
unconvinced. Louis doesn't blame him, though. Louis has always been
adamant about not having sex in his room again, especially not in the light
of the day when everyone knows Harry is there. They have done everything
but, which is just fucking stupid now that Louis really thinks about it. There
isn’t much difference in blowjobs and hand jobs with a boy than full blown
sex, really. Louis had convinced himself that those activities were somehow
less gay, and therefore more respectful to Mark which is just fucking
absurd.
“Yes. I’m positive, Harry. I want to,” Louis insists, pulling Harry up so that
he is hovering over him looking into Harry’s eyes, wanting to convey just
how sure he is about this. This feels like a significant step to Louis
somehow, as if it is solidifying something even though Louis isn’t sure what
that is yet. Maybe it is just solidifying the fact that Louis doesn’t respect
Mark anymore. That he doesn’t agree with everything Mark says, nor does
he think this is inherently wrong. Or maybe he just wants to do something
this defiant. He isn’t sure; he just knows he wants Harry. He thinks he
always will, even if the consequence is an all expenses paid trip to hell.
“Okay,” Harry responds, kissing Louis on the nose as he reaches into the
drawer of Louis’ bedside table to retrieve the lube and condom from their
designated place. Once they are both out and laying beside Louis on the
bed, Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s neck, bringing his mouth down
on his in a heated kiss. Louis just wants to feel Harry’s skin on his own. The
only sounds in the room are their heavy breathing and their lips smacking
together as they kiss, which isn’t really that loud at all.
“Harry. Please,” Louis whispers, his tone on the side of begging, but he
doesn’t care. He needs Harry inside of him in some way, even if it is just his
long fingers opening him up. Harry nods, and returns to kissing Louis,
probably trying to keep him quite as he reaches for the lube. A moment
later, Louis feels Harry’s slick finger against his hole, and he sighs in relief.
He can feel Harry’s stomach rubbing against his erection with every breath
Harry takes, and it feels so good Louis wants to scream, instead he fists
Harry’s hair, pulling hard, prompting Harry to moan into his mouth.
“Relax for me, baby.” The term of endearment falls from Harry’s kiss bitten
lips making Louis want to come from that alone. He probably could.
Coming untouched is apparently a thing he can do now. Who knew?
Certainly not Louis, but it definitely fucking happened a few days ago. He
thought it was only a thing done in porn, so maybe Louis has missed his
calling as a porn star.
“Harry,” Louis whines, but Harry swallows whatever he is about to say with
his mouth. This was probably a terrible idea. Louis is awful at keeping his
mouth shut. Harry usually has to cover it with his hand, or Louis will put a
pillow over his face to muffle the sounds. He just isn’t a quiet person. It’s
usually fine when it is just a mutual hand job, but this is different. This is
Harry preparing him to be fucked with Louis’ family not far away. Fuck.
Harry breaks their kiss in favor of trailing a few of his own down Louis’
neck, biting his shoulder and collarbone in his wake. Louis bites his lips to
keep from crying out in pleasure when Harry adds a second long finger with
the first, wasting no time to scissor them while carefully avoiding Louis’
spot. Louis wants to kick him. Louis’ brain decides to deceive him by going
to the memory of Harry’s tongue splitting him open in the shower. Louis
brain is an even bigger tease than Harry is currently being. Fuck.
“You have to be quiet, Lou, or I’m not gonna fuck you. You want that? You
want me to not fuck you? Hmm?” Harry asks, the words barely audible
above the sound of blood rushing past Louis’ ears. It takes Louis a few
minutes to process the question, his brain fuzzy from his arousal. Harry is
hovering above him, his eyes open wide in question, but his hands never
halt their ministrations. Louis isn’t sure if he should answer with ‘yes’ as in
‘yes, I’ll be quiet’ or ‘no’ as in ‘no, please don’t stop’.
“I want you to fuck me,” Louis whispers, and Harry rewards him by adding
a third finger. Louis crinkles his nose from the stretch but manages not to
moan out or say anything. Maybe Harry will let him whisper or something.
Surely he would be allowed to do that, as long as he doesn’t outright talk or
moan too loudly? Whispering is totally something bro pals do when they
are alone with each other behind a locked door, right? Louis releases a
pathetic whimper when Harry pulls up, removing his fingers completely.
Harry gives him a stern look as he rolls the condom down his length,
dropping back down between Louis’ spread legs, exactly where he belongs.
“Harry. Fuck me. Need you inside me. Please,” Louis quietly sighs directly
into Harry’s ear. No one would have been able to hear him even if they
were standing outside his bedroom door. He can feel Harry’s whole body
shudder over him at his words, carefully lining himself up with Louis’
stretched hole as he pushes in. Louis tries not to think about the fact that he
has a dick in him while his entire family is just a floor below him, watching
TV or cooking dinner, having no idea what their son or brother is up to in
his room with his friend.
“Fuck. Lou. You’re so fucking tight,” Harry mummers, kissing Louis’

cheek when Harry’s hips meet Louis’ ass. It feels so good, Louis wants to
cry. Harry doesn’t move a muscle, giving Louis time to adjust or maybe just
breathe for a few seconds. They are both panting heavily, and Louis has no
idea why, they just started. Maybe it is the anticipation or the possibility of
getting caught. It is definitely a driving force for Louis, and maybe a part of
him wants to be caught. He wants to tell the world that Harry is his because
he is. He wants to tell his family that he is considering choosing Harry over
almost everything else, but then the more sane side of him knows better.
He’s not ready for that yet. He isn’t ready for them to know. He isn’t ready
to come before God and his family for his sins, so this should stay within
the walls of his bedroom, for no outsider to know or see.
“Harry. Please. Move.” Louis whispers the words directly in Harry’s ear,
through his dark curls. Harry wastes no time obeying the command,
beginning to moving his hips in slow small circles, instead of his normal
harsh thrust. The tip of his dick has a constant pressure against Louis’ spot,
so Louis has to bite down on the skin where Harry’s jaw meets his ear to
keep from crying out. Harry squeezes the pillow beside Louis’ head, so
Louis knows he is just as affected. Harry keeps his movements slow and
deep, so that the bed doesn’t move too much as he fucks Louis.
“You’re so deep, Harry. Fuck,” Louis pants out, his voice still low given
their current environment. He can feel Harry nod in agreement, still fisting
the pillow beside Louis’ head. Harry moves, capturing Louis’ lips in a
passionate kiss as he keeps the grind of his hips slow and measured. Louis
has never been fucked this slow. He thinks they were going relatively slow
when he was stoned, but he was on top. Usually he is fucked hard and fast,
and before Harry, he would leave whoever he was with fairly quickly
afterwards. He wanted it that way. He wanted it to be quick. It being quick
felt like it was less of a sin because he didn’t sin for a long amount of time,
just a quick fuck to get it out of his system, but this is different. Everything
about this is different.
“Fuck,” Harry mummers, and just the word sends shivers of pleasure down
Louis’ spine, getting off to just the sound of Harry’s deep voice. Louis grips
Harry’s bicep for purchase, right over the black heart tattoo that makes
Louis’ hard dick spurt precome from the tip. So maybe he really likes
tattoos. Specifically on a green eyed, curly haired boy who may or may not
be the love of Louis’ life. Louis will admit, maybe only to himself, that he
is looking forward to Harry getting more tattoos, adding to his collection
until he has a full sleeve like he wants. Louis looks forward to tracing them
as they fall asleep at night, and maybe that scares him just a bit. Louis may
even get one of his own.
“Feels so good. Feels like you're splitting me open with you dick. Shit,”
Louis whispers right as Harry’s hand comes down to cup his ass check,
going even deeper if possible. Louis feels like his insides are being
rearranged by Harry’s hard length, but he can’t find it in him to care. Harry
has altered everything in him, including his brain and his way of seeing the
world, so his organs feel like no big deal in the grand scheme of things.
“God. Harry. Fuck. Oh my God,” Louis rambles, voice a bit louder, but
Harry quickly shuts him up with a harsh kiss, a direct contrast to the slow
movement of his hips. Harry’s stomach is rubbing against his erection,
providing just enough friction to feel amazing, and with Harry fucking him
so slow, it isn’t shocking that Louis wants to scream. He feels as though he
has been on the edge for hours, the slow grind of Harry’s hips teetering him,
but not pushing him over. He will probably get there eventually, but time
feels as though it has slowed down.
“I know you want God to hear you right now, but you need to be quiet or
your family will hear you too,” Harry says, the gravel in his low voice
making Louis want to squirm, and his words turning Louis on more than
offending him which is… new. If Harry had said something like that at the
beginning of the year, Louis thinks he would have been somewhat offended
by the statement. Louis would have never wanted God to know his
misdeeds, but now he finds he doesn’t care because the fact of the matter is,
he isn’t sure he believes in God anymore.
“Deeper,” Louis growls, his sweaty skin erupting into goosebumps as Harry
grabs his legs, pushing his knees to the point where they are almost
touching the bed and his calves are hooked over Harry’s broad shoulders,
effectively bending Louis in half. It has the desired effect, making Harry’s
hard dick go deeper, a constant pressure on Louis’ prostate now, making
Louis feel as if he is going to literally explode with pleasure. Harry still
continues the slow grind of his hips, his sinful mouth open, eyes almost
shut. Louis is the only one who has ever seen Harry this way, and he feels
so fucking fortunate to have the experience. It’s something rare and
beautiful. Powerful.
“Right there. Close. So fucking close,” Louis manages to get out, moving
his hand so that he is stroking his own dick, keeping his movements slow
and measured like the grind of Harry’s hips. Harry growls out in reply, but
doesn’t change a single thing about the way he is moving, keeping the
agonizingly slow pace that is getting ready to gently push Louis over the
edge.
“Lou! Dinner is almost ready! You and Harry can come down after you’re
finished!” Louis freezes when he hears his mom’s voice travel up the stairs,
his mind thinking she was outside of his door for a split second and his
stomach dropping out of his body completely. Harry still continues the slow
grind of his hips as if she said nothing. He feels like he has been slammed
back down to earth yet he is still floating, impossibly close to his release
despite his mother shouting up the stairs. He can feel Harry’s fingers twitch
on his thighs, so he knows Harry is close as well. He needs to answer her.
Right. He can do that, even though Harry hasn’t fucking stopped.
“Almost done! We’re coming!” Louis yells, mouth open wide as Harry goes
even deeper somehow, that dick. He hopes he managed to keep the moan
out of his voice and the shock from Harry splitting him open. He doesn't
hear anything else as Harry keeps fucking him, not even smiling at Louis’
innuendo. Harry hasn’t stopped, and Louis is about ready to scream because
he is toppling. Harry, knowing Louis as well as he does, chooses that
moment to clap a hand over Louis’ mouth just as he screams, spurt after
spurt of hot come being released from his slit, coating his stomach. Louis’
whole body feels as though it is buzzing, the pleasure making his skin tingle
and his hands feel numb. Harry fucks him through it, then releases a deep
moan as he comes, his hips stilling deep inside Louis.
Harry releases his legs and collapses on him a moment later. Louis, for his
part, wraps his entire body around Harry, carding his fingers through his
curls and squeezes him tight, Harry’s warm breath ghosting over his neck.
He has almost forgotten about his mom yelling up the stairs completely, and
the fact that Harry continued to fuck him without even pausing while he
replied. They are both quiet as they come down from their high, just
enjoying the feeling of being in each others arms. Louis is also kind of in
shock. He can’t believe he just did that. He let a boy fuck him under his
parent’s roof while they were there, just going about their daily lives. Harry
was inside of him when he had a conversation with his mom. Holy shit.
Louis is playing with fire. He has definitely broken a commandment, but
like Harry has pointed out, not all of the commandments make sense
anyways.
“Are you upset?” Harry asks, his voice so low, Louis barely hears him. He
probably would have missed it if it wasn’t for the fact that Harry’s lips are
next to his ear. Louis’ stomach drops. Harry must have mistook his silence
for being upset over what they had just done or maybe even over Harry’s
words during it. Louis was just so lost in thought, he didn’t even notice that
his hand stopped playing with Harry’s hair, and his other arm laid limp on
Harry’s back. It’s not surprising Harry thought he was upset. Is Louis upset?
“No. I don’t think so. I can’t believe what just happened, what we did. I’m
not upset though, and I don’t regret it. I just have a lot on my mind,” Louis
answers honestly, his brain whirling with all of the thoughts he has pushed
aside for the past few months, assaulting him all of the sudden. Questions
about his faith. Questions about his sexuality and sin. Questions about his
respect for Mark and the beliefs that were forced on him. Everything.
“You can talk to me about it anytime, love. I’m here for you,” Harry
whispers, and Louis blinks a few times, suddenly overcome with emotion.
He squeezes Harry so tight, he doesn’t know how he breathes, and fists his
hair. The love in his chest feeling as though it is about to spill out at any
moment, bathing Harry in it.
“I know. Same goes to you, love. You can tell me your secrets. You can let
your walls come down with me Harry. I won’t judge you by your monsters.
I want to build you up, never tear you down,” Louis says, and it is the first
time he has said anything like that out loud, but it seems right with Harry’s
now soft cock buried inside of him. Harry stiffens for a split second before
he relaxes again. Louis can feel him nod, but he stays silent, seemingly also
lost deep in thought with so many words left unsaid between them. Louis
thinks about Harry’s scars, and the ones that are probably still hidden under
the bracelets, the ones unseen on his heart. He thinks about whatever
happened to Harry and wonders if they will be alright. He has hope that
they will be though.
“We better get down stairs. You told your mom we were coming,” Harry
says, breaking the heaviness that has fallen over the them. He raises his
head, showing Louis a dimpled smile, and Louis can’t help but laugh. He
smacks Harry on the arm as Harry carefully gets off of him, heading to the
bathroom for a rag to wipe them both off with. The thoughts in Louis’ head
are still weighing heavily on his heart. He doesn’t know what Harry wants
or how he feels, but maybe this will be enough.
__________
“This the last of it?” Louis asks, grabbing a box from the ground. Harry
nods, shifting the two boxes in his large hands as Robin closes the U-Haul.
Liam and Niall were there earlier to help unload the big stuff, but they both
went with his mom to grab some pizza. They are all starving, having spent
most of the day moving Harry and Anne into Robin’s house. Harry’s room
is much larger now and the heating actually works. The house is so much
nicer than what Harry is used to, he is almost afraid to touch anything.
Robin even bought him a new bed, noticing Harry’s had holes in it and
springs poking through that jab Harry during the night. They left it and
most of their furniture at their old house, since it belonged to the property
owners. Harry also purposefully left a few things in his old room, deciding
he didn’t need those items any longer, wanting that to stay as a part of his
past. New beginnings and all of that.
“Can’t wait to christen my new bed with you,” Harry says to Louis, his
voice low enough that Robin doesn’t hear, who had already begun heading
to the house. Louis blushes, not missing Harry’s choice of phrase, but
smirks at him. Harry has gotten a lot better at the sexual innuendos, if he
does say so himself, but he has always been pretty good at double meanings
as far as religion is concerned. He flicks his head, trying to get a stray curl
out of his face that has somehow managed to work it’s way out of the
brown headscarf he is wearing to keep them at bay. He finds he doesn’t
mind the look of the headscarf, keeping his hair out of his face now that it
has gotten so much longer. He continues his train of thought, “Maybe Prom
night?”
“Won’t your parents be home?” Louis asks, brows deepening in thought as

they walk together to the house. Parents. That has a weird ring to it, but
Harry finds he doesn’t mind Robin being referred to as his parent. He is
now, after all. He isn’t going to legally adopt Harry, but he has been in
Harry’s life more over the past few months than his real dad has been in all
of his years combined. Blood doesn’t make you a parent. Heart does, and
Robin’s heart is bigger than anyone Harry knows.
“Nah. They are gonna be here when you pick me up, but they said they
were gonna have a date night, and won’t be home. I have no idea why, but
I’m not questioning it,” Harry responds, shrugging despite the heavy boxes
in his hands as they go through the threshold, the cool air from the air
conditioning cooling his overheated skin immediately. Harry’s muscles are
sore, so he is glad this is the last of it. He is also sweaty from the sun
beating down on them all day, but he is glad it wasn’t raining. Moving in
the rain would suck major donkey balls. It was also kind of nice seeing
Louis get all sweaty, the lean muscles in his back and arms bulging with
each new lift and shift of weight. He is wearing a plain black t-shirt with the
sleeves cut off and a backwards baseball cap. The whole thing was obscene,
and Harry’s cock twitched more times than acceptable around his family.
Maybe a cool shower is what he needs.
“You boys want something to drink?” Robin interrupts before Louis gets a
chance to respond. Louis shoots Harry a smile as if to say, later before he
sits down his box and nods in agreement. Harry does the same, hands
immediately going to his lower back which is now aching. Louis shoots him
a worried look which Harry responds to with a look as if to say ‘it’s
nothing’. Harry realizes that they just had an entire conversation without
saying a word. Holy shit. How long have they been doing that? A lot longer
than Harry cares to admit, that’s for sure.
“Yeah, just a water,” Harry says, and Louis nods in agreement as they make
their way into the kitchen, sitting down at the table as Robin goes to get
them all water. He comes back a moment later, handing them each an ice
cold bottle of water as he sits down, opening his and taking a drink. Harry
takes his, drinking half of it immediately, letting the cool liquid flow down
his throat and into his stomach, making his body feel better after such a
long day.
“What are you guys going to do for you last summer before college?”
Robin asks, sitting his bottle down, looking at them. Harry glances to Louis.
They haven't talked about it much, but Louis’ face lights up with
excitement.
“I’m gonna take Haz to do all kinds of shit. I was thinking that maybe we
could go to an amusement park, the outdoor movie theater, and the lake,
you know stuff he hasn’t done before,” Louis informs him, his voice high
with excitement. Harry looks at him in surprise. He had no idea Louis
actually took notes on all of the things Harry had said he would like to do
but could never afford. Louis smiles at him, his whole face lighting up with
the elation he feels over spending the summer with Harry, and Harry can’t
stop his own excitement from blooming in his chest. He tries not be hopeful
about things, but fuck, he is. He can’t help it, even if the logical part of his
brain is telling him to calm down.
“That sounds fun. I know Harry wanted to get a new tattoo this summer, so
maybe plan your tattoo around the lake adventures,” Robin says with a
smile. Then he glances at Louis, and Harry can tell he is going to ask him
something. “Do you have any tattoos planned, Louis?”
“That’s a sin,” Harry responds with a snort, shooting Louis a smile to show
him that he is mostly just kidding. He does think it is ridiculous though.
Louis sins all the fucking time, yet he chooses that one to never do. It
makes no sense. Louis also seems to think he will just beg for forgiveness
for all of his other sins later down the road.
“Sin, huh? The concept of sin is fascinating. How can you be born with sin
when you haven't even done anything in the first place?” Robin asks, and
Harry knows it is meant to be redundant, but Louis doesn’t. He is fascinated
to hear Louis’ response all the same. Sin isn’t something they have talked in
detail about. Robin, however, is a lot like Harry. He hasn’t studied
everything nearly as much as Harry, but he is an atheist all the same. It is
one of the early things they bonded over.
“Well that’s because of original sin. It’s the sin of the ultimate disobedience
when Eve ate the apple and fell out of God’s graces. Jesus is the only one
born without original sin,” Louis says, and Harry can tell he seems to know
a bit about the subject either from research or church. There are still two
very big, glaring issues, with what he said.
“Actually, Jesus isn’t the only one born without original sin. The Catholic
church decided that, since the concept of original sin is so flawed, Mary
was also immaculately conceived, to make her completely sin free to give
birth to Jesus. So therefore the fact that Jesus was also immaculately
conceived isn’t that special since apparently Mary was as well. Sure,
immaculate conception is a bit different than born of a virgin, but it still
deals with grace. Also, the forbidden fruit wasn’t necessarily an apple, it
could have been a pomegranate, a pear, or even a grape,” Harry tells him.
Louis looks a bit shocked by the information, but recovers quickly this
time.
“Original sin makes sense though. Regardless of what the fruit was, it
occurred when Eve gave into temptation and ate from the Tree of
Knowledge,” Louis says, pointing his finger as he takes a sip of his water.
Harry watches a drop fall from the corner of his mouth, down his chin, then
trail down his neck. Harry is suddenly thirsty for that drop only. No other
water will do.
“Why am I being punished for the mistakes of another? I didn’t tell her to
eat the fruit. Why should I have to beg for forgiveness over a crime I never
committed?” Harry asks, and Louis shrugs in response, seeming to not
know what to say.
“My problem is that there are so many sins the Bible mentions, that there
isn’t really much you can do, and for some reason, people in the church feel
like some sins outweigh others when in reality a sin is a sin. The Bible says
you aren’t supposed to wear any clothing made out of two different
materials, yet here you sit, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, one made of denim
while the other cotton. A sin is a sin. A tattoo holds the same amount of sin
as wearing two different fabrics,” Robin says, and Harry wants to cheer.
Robin has made some very good points.
“Well, that’s why you repent and ask for forgiveness for your sins. If God
forgives you, then you should be baptized and live your life through him.
Sure, you will sin occasionally, but just ask forgiveness,” Louis responds, as
if it is so simple.
“That’s the problem, though. That is pretty much saying that you can do
anything you want, and it’s okay as long as God forgives you. What if you
killed someone, like you planned and actually murdered someone, but you
were sorry for it after. Maybe you found God or whatever. You begged for
his forgiveness, and he granted it. You would go to heaven.” Harry pauses,
even though he isn’t completely finished with his thought, waiting to see if
Louis responds with what he thinks he is going to.
“I don’t see a problem with that. Only God can judge them, and if they are
truly sorry for what they have done, and God grants forgiveness then they
deserve to go to Heaven,” Louis says, and bingo. He said exactly what
Harry thought he would say.
“You think? Yet someone who is genuinely a good person, who has done
good things their entire life, won’t go to Heaven because he doesn’t believe
in God or always follow his word nor asked for his forgiveness from sins
God planned for him to do.” Harry can feel himself getting heated for the
first time during these discussions, but he tries not to let it show in his voice
or mannerisms. He keeps everything calm and calculated like normal, this is
just a sensitive topic for him.
“Yeah. I mean, if they haven't accepted God into their lives then they aren’t
deserving of Heaven. One of the rules is to believe in God,” Louis
responds, and Harry is actually kind of angry. Does Louis really believe that
way? Does he believe terrible people are deserving of paradise simply
because they believe in God and asked for forgiveness? People who have
hurt innocent people in God’s name. Maybe Louis just isn’t thinking about
it logically. He hardly ever does when it comes to the topic of religion, but
it still makes Harry so very fucking angry. This particular topic hits closer
to home for him. He decides to go for the throat.
“Let’s take Robin, for example. Robin is a good fucking person. He does
good things. You are saying that someone who is a terrible person and has
been their entire lives is more deserving of eternal life in paradise simply
because that terrible person believes in God and begs forgiveness. Don’t
you see the error in that logic? Do you think that’s fair?” Louis’ mouth has
fallen open, blue eyes dashing from Robin then back to Harry, as if he is
really considering Harry’s words. He is probably thinking about Mark,
which was kind of the point. Harry didn’t want to say that his step dad was
better than Louis’, but it is the truth of the matter. Robin would never bully
Harry or make him feel badly about himself. Yet, according to Louis’ belief,
Mark will go to Heaven while Robin will be damned to hell.
“No, I don’t think it’s fair. I-- I just don’t know what to believe anymore,”
Louis finally responds. His voice small and unsure. A pang of guilt shoots
through Harry’s chest, making his heart feel like it is being clenched by a
fist, but he feels like he needs to do this. He needs to get Louis to see the
error in his train of thought. The errors in his faith. He has said it before, he
doesn’t necessarily want Louis to be an atheist, he just wants Louis to stop
following blindly.
“I would rather be in a hell full of good people who question everything,

than in a heaven with people who did bad things, but just begged
forgiveness for them.” Harry watches Louis’ face as he says the words.
Louis looks at him, and Harry can see the consideration in his eyes. Harry
has seen that look before, but lately it seems more sure. As if he is figuring
things out, like he isn’t so confused anymore. Harry hopes that Louis is
seeing his faith for what it is, and not going in the opposite direction. Harry
will be heartbroken if Louis chooses his religion over their relationship.
Chapter End Notes
Next chapter is going to be the beginning of Prom so buckle up babies.
Kudos and Comments always welcome!
Feel free to follow my Social Media accounts! I have a Tumblr now!
Bones
Chapter Summary
Louis and Harry go to prom

Chapter Notes
IT'S FINALLY HERE!!!

You are my God
You are my soul
You're my savior
In a devil's robe
And I can't exist without you
I can't exist without you- In this Moment

“Why are you wearing a T-shirt? It’s prom. Shouldn't you be wearing, like,
a full-blown tux?” Lottie asks as soon as Louis’ dress shoes hit the living
room floor. He looks down at his outfit, then back up to Lottie who looks
skeptical along with the rest of his family. Mark even looks disgusted, but
Louis doesn't really care. Apparently wearing a t-shirt with a dressier outfit
is against the Bible. Well it is since it does say not to mix fabrics. Mark is
currently wearing a t-shirt and jeans which definitely violates that rule.
Louis pushes the thought aside and smiles at his family.
“What’s wrong with it?” Louis asks, looking down at his outfit. It’s Harry’s
t-shirt, so it is a bit big on him. Harry must have somehow left it at his
house. It is a white band t-shirt, but Louis has the design mostly covered
with his black buttoned blazer. He decided to do it for two reasons. First, he
wanted to wear something of Harry’s to show him that he is with him even
though, publicly, he is there with Willow. The second reason is simple. He
isn’t sure what Harry is going to be wearing and didn’t want him to feel
completely under-dressed if he couldn’t afford a nice suit or tuxedo. He
currently looks nice, but not full on formal. He thinks he has found a great
balance.
“Nothing. Nothing is wrong with it at all. You look so handsome,” Jay

compliments, coming to put her arms around Louis in a tight hug. He rolls
his eyes but hugs back. He can almost hear the ‘my baby is growing up’
speech coming off of her in waves, so Louis quickly breaks it.
“I’ll be back in a little bit with Harry, Willow and Tara, so that you can get
pictures, just like I promised. I’m sure Willow’s mom is going to take
pictures of us and poor Harry with Tara.” Louis chuckles, trying to imagine
Harry posing in the classic prom poses with Tara. It is going to be hilarious,
and Louis can’t wait to give Harry shit about it. Louis waves goodbye as he
quickly makes his way out the door and into his car.
The drive to Harry’s new house is relatively quick. Robin’s house is

actually closer to Louis’ than their old house was, so walking wasn’t an
issue. He takes a few deep breaths before getting out of the car and going
up to the door. He is anxious to see what Harry is going to be wearing.
Harry hasn’t told him a thing despite Louis’ incessant questioning. Louis
uses one shaky finger to ring the doorbell, then wipes his sweaty hands
down the front of his dress pants. Anne opens the door a few moments later,
her face lighting up in a big smile.
“Louis! You look great! Come in. You didn’t have to ring the bell. You’re
practically family.” Anne moves out of the way to usher Louis inside, the
air conditioning cooling his overheated skin quickly. He looks around,
noticing almost everything is unpacked now, the living room looking lived
in. They have even hung some pictures of Harry and Gemma around, with
an entire wall dedicated to the wedding. Louis is surprised to find himself in
many of the pictures, one of just him and Harry. It looks like they are
holding hands. They very well could be, and he can’t believe Anne and
Robin framed it.
“Hey Louis. Harry should be down in just a minute. He was worried about
his hair,” Robin says with a fond smile, coming over to stand beside an
already tearful Anne. Not for the first time, Louis is shocked with the
change he sees in Anne. She is almost like a different person. He can feel
the warmness coming off of her in waves. He knows that things aren’t
perfect between her and Harry, but they seem to be moving towards better
at least. Maybe with a little more time, they can have a proper mother and
son relationship.
“You don’t wanna know how long this took me,” Louis responds, pointing
at his hair which is artfully messy, if he does say so himself. To look so
messy, it took far more time than Louis is willing to admit. Anne and Robin
both laugh, but before they can respond, Louis hears Harry’s door opening
up from down the hallway. Butterflies are erupting in his stomach, and he
feels like he can’t breathe. He shouldn’t be this nervous. He sees Harry
almost every day and talks to him just as often, so seeing him shouldn’t
make Louis feel like he is going to jump out of skin with anticipation.
Louis knows his sharp intake of breath when he finally sees Harry is the
furthest thing away from normal bro-pal behavior that is fucking possible,
but he can’t help his body’s reaction to Harry fucking Styles dressed so
nicely. Louis has seen Harry in a suit for Anne and Robin’s wedding, but
this is different. Very fucking different. This is something he clearly chose,
and Louis has to blink back tears because it is just so lovely. Harry is lovely.
He chose to wear what could only be described as a silk blouse.
The blouse is very pretty, black with white hearts all over it, buttoned all the
way up to his neck. He is wearing a black blazer over it that fits his lean
frame perfectly, and has it tucked into a pair of his black skinny jeans, that
are so tight, Louis wants to faint. On his feet are brown pointed toe boots,
shined for the occasion to match his brown belt. His curls are done up into a
quiff, making him seem even taller, if possible, and Louis’ dick is now
impossibly hard, straining against the fabric of his dress pants. He hopes
they do a good job at concealing it because he can’t look away. Harry is
taking his breath away, but he doesn’t need air. He has what he needs. He
has had it for a while now, but he was too blinded by faith to see it.
“Hi,” Harry says, and Louis blinks, feeling as though time has started again.
Harry is looking down at his pigeon toed feet, a light pink blush coloring
his cheeks as he nervously fidgets with his rings. Louis is endeared. He is
just about to walk up to him and kiss him when Robin clears his throat,
slamming Louis back down to reality. Louis hates reality. He glances
towards Robin and Anne, who look almost like proud parents watching
their son go out on his first date which just couldn’t be right.
“Hi,” Louis responds, and sure it’s not that eloquent, but he is having
trouble breathing much less finding words right now. All he can picture is
slowly unbuttoning Harry’s silk shirt, how the fabric will feel in his hands.
Fuck. He needs to not imagine that though because he just got his erection
to start going down. Harry just looks so fucking pretty, Louis doesn't know
what else to do with himself. Harry is always pretty, but he looks confident
and happy. Two things he wasn’t at the beginning of the school year. Louis
definitely loves him, his chest is aching with it. He just needs Harry to say it
first. He needs Harry to feel it.
“Do you mind if I get a few pictures of you all before you leave? You two
just look so cute with your matching outfits. Did you mean to match?”
Anne asks, interrupting their moment of eye fucking. Louis snaps out of it
again, shaking his head a bit to clear his brain from his Harry induced fog.
He looks over at Anne, who is smiling, her phone already pointed at them
while Robin looks over her shoulder. Louis wonders if she had already
taken a picture. He looks at his own outfit, then at Harry’s noticing for the
first time that they are, in fact, matching somewhat. Both decided to go with
black and white, and a somewhat dressed down look for prom.
“No, we didn’t plan our outfits together. I guess it just sort of happened,”
Louis answers glancing at Harry with a small smile which Harry returns.
Louis continues to answer her first question. “Are you sure you want some
now? I can swing back around here when we pick up Willow and Tara.”
Louis’ brows are now knitted together in confusion. Why would Anne want
a picture of just Louis and Harry? He remembers her wanting a picture of
them at the wedding, too, then looks over to see the picture of them hanging
on the wall. Holy shit. Do her and Robin really know?
“No need to do that. I’ll just ask Jay for those, but I want some of just you
two. You’re such good friends, I want to remember the moment,” she
responds, putting emphasis on the word ‘friends’. Fuck. They for sure
know. Harry is looking at them suspiciously as well, probably putting the
same pieces together. He doesn’t look all that panicked either which is
strange because they both should be. Adding someone else to the, now far
too long, list of people that know their secret. Louis nods his head, then
begins posing with Harry in the living room, both boys smiling at the
camera until Anne is satisfied that she has enough pictures of them. Harry
and Louis say their goodbyes, Louis wishing them a great date night, then
make their way outside.
“You look so gorgeous, Harry,” Louis says as soon as they are in the car,
away from listening ears. Harry blushes bright red and looks down at his
lap, biting his lip. Louis’ dick twitches which is perfectly acceptable now
that they are in the safety of the car. Louis can’t allow that kind of shyness,
so he puts his fingers under Harry’s chin, pulling Harry’s face up so that
they are looking into each other’s eyes. “Really Haz. You’re so beautiful. I
thought my heart stopped when I first saw you. I didn’t need a miracle to
bring it back to life, just your voice.” It may be cheesy, but he means it.
“Thank you. I was kinda worried because it’s not like, what I normally
wear,” Harry responds, his voice slow, or maybe it’s just time that is
slowing down, the moment feeling raw somehow. Harry pulls at his blazer,
as if he is uncomfortable.
“Do you like it?” Louis asks, looking at Harry's outfit again. Louis
definitely likes it, and his dick downright loves it, however, he wants Harry
to like it for himself. He hopes Harry didn’t wear it just for him. He wants
Harry to be comfortable in what he is wearing. If he wore it for Louis,
Louis is going to tell him to get right back in that house and change into a t-
shirt.
“Yeah. I love it,” Harry answers after a few moments of thought, a small
shy smile crooking his full lips up. Louis’ heart does a flip in his chest. He
can’t stop himself from leaning in and kissing Harry on those very same
smiling lips. He keeps the kiss sweet and gentle. Harry lips are soft and
warm and everything Louis wants to remember forever.
“Then that’s all that matters,” Louis whispers against Harry’s lips when he
is finally done kissing him. Harry smiles at him, a genuine heart wrenching
smile, and Louis almost unleashes the words he has been holding in for so
long. They are on the tip of his tongue, but he bites it to stop them from
spilling out into the cab. Instead he clears his throat and turns away to start
the car. “Ready to go?” Harry nods in response, and Louis drives away from
the curb.
Louis picks Willow up first, going into her house to pose for pictures to
appease her parents. They both smile through it, acting like the most perfect
couple, purity rings in place. They don’t really have rings, but they may as
well since neither of them have any interest in touching the other. Harry
stays in the car while all this is happening, thank God, because Louis knows
that Harry can feel a bit jealous over Willow. He has gotten better with it
the more he knows her, but it still probably hurts him. Louis doesn’t want to
hurt him. Next, they head to pick up Tara.
“Ready to go in?” Louis asks, putting the car in park as Harry looks at the
house forlornly. Louis puts his hand on Harry’s knee, hoping the gesture is
calming. Harry seems to relax a bit, then nods once, moving to open the
door.
“Thank you for doing this for me, Haz. I know it’s a bit out of your comfort
zone, but we will be quick,” Willow says, walking with them up the
driveway, her forest green dress flowing behind her. Louis can see Harry’s
hands shaking as he rings the doorbell, waiting patiently for the door to be
opened. Harry shoves his hands in his pockets, probably out of nerves but
otherwise looks fine. Louis knows Harry can turn on the charm when
necessary, so he just hopes he chooses to do that now. He said he was going
to when they discussed it last night.
“Hi Mr. and Mrs. Clay. I know we haven't met before, but I’m Harry
Styles,” Harry greets as soon as an older couple open the door, and what the
actual fuck? Is Louis in the Twilight Zone or some shit? They look
surprised at first, and Louis fucking seconds that. Harry is smiling, his
dimples popping, and holy fucking shit. When Harry looks like that, he
could convince God that Hell is a lovely oasis paradise with running water
and tropical temperatures. Harry shakes both of their hands, and they move
to let the three of them through the door. Tara is already standing in the
living room area, her blue dress hugging her curves, her blond hair down
framing her face.
“Why didn’t you tell us Harry is so nice and polite?” Mrs. Clay says,
smiling at Harry, and Tara looks shocked. Louis just nods his head. He
knows he looks smug, but he can’t help it. Harry is his boy. Tara recovers
quickly and smiles at them.
“Must have slipped my mind,” she responds, looking at Harry with an

amused twinkle in her eyes. He sticks out his tongue while her parents
aren’t looking at him, and Louis has to cover his laugh with a cough. It is
rare that Harry is this goofy, but it does happen. Usually not in front of
others, but Louis is just so fucking happy that Harry is coming out of his
shell. That he is willing to show this side of himself to others. The side
Louis fell in love with.
“We just wanna get a few pictures of you all before you leave,” Mr. Clay
says, smiling at everyone. Harry isn’t that awkward in his pictures, mostly
just the ones where they were wanting him to put his hands on Tara. Harry
isn’t that touchy of a person. Louis has only seen him hug a handful of
people, so this was a bit out of the ordinary for him, but he handled it like a
champ. Louis and Willow spend most of the time trying to make Harry
laugh by making silly faces or obscene gestures which actually turned into
some really good pictures with a laughing Harry and Tara.
“Well we really should be heading out now. We still have to go back to my
parents house for pictures then get to Prom,” Louis says, clapping his hands
together when Harry is clearly starting to become a little agitated and jumpy
from everything going on around him. Louis is so fucking proud of him so
far though.
“I’ll have her home by midnight, don’t worry,” Harry says, smiling at them.
They hug their daughter goodbye, wishing them all a fun time, and Louis
actually hears and sees Harry’s sigh of relief once the door is shut. He rubs
across Harry’s back, squeezing Harry’s shoulder as they make their way
towards the car. Harry sits in the front while the girls take the back. It would
be ridiculous to Harry to try to ride in the back with Tara. Louis wants to
grab Harry’s hand, but Tara doesn’t know about them therefore he somehow
refrains. They all chat about the dance, and Louis can see how nervous
Willow looks from the rear-view mirror, probably thinking about her plan
as she jogs her leg.
____________
“Lou, what are you doing?” Harry asks, taking a sip from his very spiked
punch. They have been at prom for a few hours, and all of them are starting
to feel the buzz of the alcohol. Harry hasn’t even cringed at the terrible,
loud music that has been playing for the past hour at least. Louis has also
been getting progressively more tipsy, now fully grinding on Harry. Harry
looks around to find no one really paying them any attention. He doesn’t
really care what everyone thinks about him, he never has, but Louis does.
“Fuck ‘em,” Louis responds, flicking his wrist then continuing the slow
grind of his hips. Harry looks down at his watch then around for Willow
and Tara, not really finding them. Niall and Liam are with their dates
dancing somewhere. They are supposed to be meeting Willow in half an
hour to execute her plan for Tara. He puts his hands on Louis hips, trying to
stop the movement while biting his tongue on a groan.
“What about everyone?” Harry asks, looking around again at the crowd of
tuxedos and colorful dresses littering the dance floor, grinding on each other
to the beat of the pop music playing overhead. His cock is now impossibly
hard, pressing uncomfortably against the material of his tight black jeans.
“Harry, I really don’t care what they think. We will never see them again
after tomorrow. Who gives a fuck if they talk? I wanna dance with my date
at Prom. My real date. You,” Louis says, turning around and putting his
arms around Harry’s neck, definitely not something that bro-pals do. He had
a point that Harry wholeheartedly agrees with, but he doesn’t want to fuck
up their summer just because of one moment of weakness that gets back to
Louis’ parents in this ridiculously small town. Harry almost leans down to
kiss him, wanting to taste the sweet punch on his lips but somehow refrains,
despite the fact that Louis is now grinding their hard cocks together. Fuck.
“Let’s go to the bathroom,” Harry whispers in Louis’ ear, lips finding his
neck. He can feel Louis nod. It’s probably a bad idea. They don’t have time,
but Harry wants him. Harry gropes Louis’ ass one last time before Louis
pulls away, making him whimper. Louis takes his hand, pulling him the the
direction of the bathrooms. Louis doesn’t even look to see if they are alone
before he pushes Harry in a stall, kissing him hard and rough. Harry can’t
do anything but hold on to the soft boy in his arms.
“Gotta make this quick,” Louis says between kisses, undoing Harry’s belt
and jeans with one skilled hand. Harry didn’t miss the fact that Louis is
wearing his t-shirt under his blazer, nor the little detail that Louis didn’t
even bother trying to cover the mark Harry left on his neck yesterday. Louis
wants Harry to know that he is his. Harry uses both hands to get Louis’
dress pants undone, his hard cock springing free a moment later. There is
barely any room for them in the tiny stall, but they make it work.
“What if someone hears?” Harry asks but doesn’t stop himself from taking
both of their cocks in one large hand. Louis hisses out a breath, pulling both
of their shirts up and aligning their chest to keep them there. Louis’ skin is
hot against his own, as Harry works both of their cocks, squeezing them
together as he moves, the dryness almost hurting. Louis threads his fingers
in Harry’s hair, and Harry doesn’t even care if he messes it up. He loves the
feeling of Louis’ fingers in his hair, pulling it to the point of it almost
hurting.
“Don’t care,” Louis mumbles, bringing Harry down to kiss him, his lips
making a wet smacking sound as they move to the rhythm of Harry’s
strokes. He isn’t going to last long, not with Louis throwing caution to the
wind like this. He doesn’t know why, but he finds the whole thing hot. Like
Louis doesn’t care what people think because he wants them to know they
are together. Fuck. It’s turning Harry on. Louis’ eyes are dark and glassy,
his skin looks tan in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the bathroom. He is
stunning.
“Fuck Lou,” Harry says, when Louis attacks his jaw, sucking marks into his
skin as he goes. Harry shuffles his feet a bit, feeling hot and squirmy as he
tries to keep the pace of his own hand, Louis’ cock feeling so good against
his own. His eyes roll back into his head at the onslaught of sensations, but
quickly open to look at Louis when they hear the bathroom door open and
footsteps.
“Don’t you dare fucking stop, Harry.” Louis’ command is so low, Harry
wouldn't have heard it if his lips weren’t right next to Harry’s ear. Harry
knows he should, but he doesn’t. He keeps going, pushing them both closer
to the edge as whoever is in the bathroom is out there taking a piss or
whatever. The person could open the stall or recognize their shoes or
voices, but neither of them seem to care, too lost in each other.
“Lou,” Harry warns, voice whiny as they get closer. If the guy didn’t hear
him, it will be a fucking miracle. The person in the bathroom doesn’t say
anything, just starts washing his hands. Harry want’s whoever it is to
fucking leave already, so that he can get off with his… with Louis.
“Better be quiet. We have an audience,” Louis responds, and for some

reason that’s what takes Harry over the edge. Louis swallows Harry’s moan
with his mouth, and Harry feels Louis’ own hot release a few moments later
just as the door shuts, and they are left in the bathroom alone once more.
Holy fucking shit. Harry knows they are becoming reckless, but he can’t
find it in him to care. They are so close to college, to their freedom, that
Harry almost feels they are invincible. As if nothing can take it away. No
one will be able to take this from them or out of their grasp.
“Hazza? Lou? Are you boys in here?” Harry hears Liam’s voice a moment
later, before either of them have time to come down from their orgasms.
Louis smirks at Harry, as if to say, go on.
“Yeah. Hold on a sec,” Harry says, voice echoing off the tiles of the
bathroom. He grabs some toilet paper and begins cleaning them up.
Thankfully, they didn’t seem to get any on each other’s dark clothes,
somehow. Maybe tonight's a night of miracles.
“Told you they’d be in here. They were grinding on each other not even five
minutes ago, for Pete’s sake.” Niall’s voice comes next, and Harry rolls his
eyes at Louis who is laughing as they begin to button their pants, working
around each other in the small space. Harry tucks his shirt back in as Louis
smooths out both of their blazers, smiling and patting him on the the
shoulders, gesturing to the stall door. Harry nods, realizing not for the first
time that they’ve had an entire conversation without saying a word. Louis
unlocks the stall and steps out.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Harry. You look like you were rode hard and put
away wet,” Niall says, and Louis barks out a laugh, looking over at Harry.
Harry looks in the mirror, finding his reflection is a bit of a mess. His lips
are swollen and kiss bitten red, green eyes glassy, and curls looking as if he
spent a bit of time in a wind tunnel. He runs his fingers through his hair a
few times, making it just a tiny bit better.
“Where do you come up with this shit, Ni? I mean, half the time, I have to
get Harold to translate for me because I don’t even know what the fuck
you’re trying to say. For the first time, though, I understand what you’re
saying. What the fuck is happening to me?” Louis asks, looking down at his
hands, and Harry can barely hold back his giggles at the look of horror on
his face.
“You’re becoming one of us. All it took was a bit of moonshine in some
punch and a good fucking in the woods,” Niall responds clapping Louis on
the back. Both Harry and Liam are bent over in full on belly laughs now,
tears streaming down Harry’s face at the look of offence on Louis’ features.
Louis looks like he is about to say something to Harry about the creek bank
incident before Liam cuts him off.
“Harry didn’t have to tell us. You two were a frog’s hair away from fucking
each other right there on the grass in the middle of the park. There was no
way either of you were making it to someone’s house,” Liam says through
his laughter but is finally able to stand upright.
“Since when is a fucking frog’s hair a unit of measurement? Do frogs even

have hair?” Louis asks, and Harry is back to laughing. He just can’t help it.
Louis makes him happy. This time Niall joins in until they are all doubled
over, holding their bellies with laughter. He would love to know some of
the shit that goes through Louis’ head with what Niall says. Louis has asked
him what he means on more than one occasion, Harry having to act as a
translator because he is fluent in hillbilly.
“We need to get out there. The song Willow requested for Tara is gonna be
on in a few minutes, and we have to act as blockers,” Liam says after a few
moments of just laughing. Harry stands up straight, remembering the
gravity of the situation, as he wipes his eyes, the other boys doing the same.
He is glad he decided not to wear eyeliner tonight. He usually would have,
but didn’t want to this time. He wanted to look as much like himself as
possible, not covering up like he normally would, plus he had to make a
good impression on Tara’s parents.
“How’s she feeling?” Louis asks, looking at Liam and Niall who have
apparently talked to her recently. Both shake their head with a small smile,
Liam shoving his hands into his pockets as if he is nervous as well.
“More nervous than a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs,” Niall
answers, nodding, and Louis looks like he is about to comment again. Harry
intervenes since they don’t really have time for another game of ‘guess the
redneck phrase’ at the moment, so he grabs Louis’ shoulders and ushers
him out of the bathroom before he can open his mouth. When they get back
onto the crowded dance floor, Harry uses his height to his advantage and
takes a look around, easily locating Tara and Willow talking to each other at
a nearby table. Willow is clearly nervous, jogging her foot and not even to
the beat of the music around them.
“Let’s dance,” Louis says, walking up to Willow and pulling her out into
the dance floor. Harry decides to do the same for Tara, wanting to get both
ladies into position for the next song that is about to play. They laugh
through their goofy dancing for the current song, but Willow immediately
stiffens when the music stops.
“This next song is a slow one and was requested by one of y’all. This is
Stay by Black Stone Cherry,” the DJ introduces, his voice echoing in the
room. The song must mean something to Tara, because her blue eyes are
wide as Willow steps up to her, fiddling with her fingers from nerves. Harry
almost feels sorry for them. He remembers what those first few months
were like for him and Louis, the nerves that came along with it. Feeling as
though it was eating at his insides. That feels like it was years ago, when it
was only a couple of months. In a way, he is kind of glad for the
misunderstanding between him and Louis because he isn’t sure if anything
would have happened otherwise. They would probably still be dancing
around each other and their feelings if it wasn’t for that.
“Um-- Tara, will you dance with me?” Willow asks, her voice laced with
nerves, cracking in a few spots, but she gets her question out and Harry is
proud of her for that. Tara doesn’t say anything, just nods, seemingly
dumbfounded by the question. Harry looks at the other boys, getting into
place so that they are blocking the dancing girls from the view of others, as
Willow’s hand come to rest on Tara’s hips. Tara, for her part, places her
arms around Willow’s neck as they begin swaying to the slow song. Harry
wants to dance with Louis too, but this is their moment. He isn’t going to
take that from them.
Harry watches with tears in his eyes as the two girls sway to the music, the
song clearly meaning something to both of them. He glances over at Louis
who is also looking at him. Louis shoots him a small smile, and Harry’s
heart aches with love. Harry loves him, but he is still struggling with the
whole trust thing. He knows he should trust Louis. He knows he should let
him in, but it’s not something that has been easy for him to get past. He
hasn’t even properly dealt with what happened and has never verbally told
anyone. He doesn't even know if he can. Or if he ever will.
Once the song is over, Willow leans in for a kiss, and Harry looks away to
find Louis’ gaze, not wanting to intrude even more on their private moment,
even though they are still blocking them from view. He hears the kiss last a
few moments, then a surprised gasp that is definitely from Tara. He decides
to looks back, and his heart breaks a tiny bit for Willow. Tara is holding her
lips as if she has been scalded, looking at Willow with wide unbelieving
eyes, like she has never seen her before. Willow’s brown eyes are filling
with tears, thin mouth open with words that are seemingly caught in her
throat.
“Tara. Please, just let me explain,” Willow manages to get out before Tara
shakes her head and breaks out of their group, running in the direction of
the exit. Harry feels helpless and looks at Louis because Louis is his rock.
He will always look to Louis for help, even if the problem isn’t his own.
Harry gives Niall a silent command to get Willow somewhere a bit more
private, so Niall wraps a comforting arm around her shoulders, Liam doing
the same on the other side as Willow buries her face in Niall’s suit jacket.
“Will, you stay here. Harry and I will go talk to her. Come find us in a few
minutes. I promise we will do everything we can to make it better,” Louis
says, but Harry can hear the panic in his voice. Harry is scared as well. He
knows how much Willow loves Tara, and he had thought that Tara returned
her feelings. Maybe he was wrong though. He follows Louis outside, the
warm humid air hitting him as soon as they walk through the doorway.
They look around, trying to decide where Tara could have gone. She came
with them, so she couldn’t have gone to her car. Harry hears the
unmistakable sound of a girl crying and looks at Louis, pointing in the
direction it is coming from. Louis nods and then quietly follows the sound,
not wanting to alert her to their presence just yet, but also not wanting to
scare her.
“Tara?” Louis says, keeping his voice low and soft. They find her curvy
frame leaning against the side of the building, the gemstones on her blue
dress sparkling in the low light. She has her hands covering her face, but
stiffens at their presence, her cries quieting as if she is holding her breath.
They approach her carefully, the steps echoing off the nearby walls
surrounding them. The moon is low and bright in the sky, providing just
enough light for them to see each other. Harry looks to Louis, not really
knowing what to do.
“Go away,” Tara responds, crying into her hands. Harry just feels so
helpless right now. How is he supposed to talk to someone about their
issues when he can’t even talk about his own? Thankfully Louis is with
him, and Louis always knows what to do and say. Louis knows how to
handle things.
“Come on, love. Don’t cry.” Louis is using the same voice he uses on his
sisters when they are upset. Harry has heard it countless times since Louis
has also used it on him. Louis carefully reaches for her hands, pulling them
away from her face. Harry’s heart breaks a tiny bit more seeing her face.
She looks so sad and confused. He has seen that look on Louis’ face more
times then he ever wants to admit, mostly when they talk about religion.
“Harry. Louis. You don’t understand. I just-- I can’t,” she stutters, trying to
cover up her face again, but Louis doesn’t allow it. She can’t hide from this.
She can’t run away from her problems. Harry should know. He has tried an
infinite amount of times, afterall.
“We do understand, though,” Harry says, keeping his voice calm trying to
convey with his eyes what he means. He doesn't think she gets it though,
because she just shakes her head, blue eyes brimming with tears, the
movement causing them to fall down her face. Harry frowns and nods, but
she still doesn’t seem to be getting it.
“She-- she kissed me,” she whispers as if she is trying to keep it a secret
even though they already know. They were there. Harry didn’t watch, but
he knew it was happening. She bows her head, her cheeks going red with
shame, and Harry doesn’t know what to do. “You should be mad at me,
Lou. She kissed me, and she’s your girlfriend.” Fuck. Harry almost forgot
that she didn’t know. He hears Louis laugh, which probably isn’t helping.
“You have the wrong idea Tara,” Louis starts, licking his lips. “I mean,
that’s partly our fault for not telling you, but Willow and I aren’t really
dating. It’s all fake. We just made a deal to get our parents off our back. We
haven't so much as kissed.” Louis’ blue eyes are honest, and Harry is
shocked at the ease of which Louis said all of that. His voice didn’t even
shake with the admission. He just said it outloud, not really caring.
“What? Wait? Are you and Harry…” Her sentence trails off, her eyes
darting between them, full lips open in the silent question. Harry’s own
mouth is open now, stuttering around the answer, but he quickly closes it
when Louis begins to speak again.
“Yeah. Have been since October. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you, T. Will
wanted to, but it was our secret to tell. This isn’t about us, though. This is
about you. Did you not want her to kiss you?” Louis asks, and Harry feels
like he is watching a game of tennis between the two. He doesn’t even
know why he came along, Louis can clearly handle this however, Tara has
reached for his hand, squeezing it, so maybe he is helping in some small
way. Maybe Tara trusts him, and he didn’t even notice.
“I-- I don’t know,” Tara admits, her blond brows knitting together with her
turmoil. At least she is not crying anymore. Thank the gods because Harry
can’t handle someone he cares about crying. He still hates the confusion
marring her features. He hates that she feels so confused over something so
normal all because she is religious. He knows that’s her reason. They are
just waiting for her to say it.
“What do you know, love? What do you feel?” Louis asks next, placing a
hand on her shoulder, dropping his head so he can look her in the eyes.
“It’s wrong, isn’t it Lou? Isn’t that what our parents say? Isn’t that what the
Bible says? Being attracted to her is wrong, and I…” Her sentence trails off
again, her eyes going distant as if she is lost in thought. Her hand comes up
to press against her lips, most likely remembering the moment, and how
good it made her feel. Harry decides to stay quiet on this one, curious as to
what Louis is about to say. Louis’ features soften even more. He opens his
mouth once then closes it, opening it again as if trying to decide what he
wants to say. Harry may or may not be holding his breath.
“Tara, I know what you’re going through,” Louis starts, his voice cracking
just the smallest amount. “I’ve been there. I have been struggling with this
all year. I have been trying to figure out how my faith aligns with my
attraction.”
“And?” Tara asks, the question almost lost in the wind between the
buildings.
“And the answer is that it doesn’t. Not really. The Bible does say that
homosexuality is wrong, but why? Why is it so wrong to love someone?
Love is love.” Harry’s heart jumps at that word. Louis didn’t say that he
loves Harry, but he implied it. As if Harry isn't dying inside, Louis
continues, his voice getting stronger. “The Bible’s condemnation makes no
sense to me, and I think if you really look at it, it wouldn’t make any sense
to you either. It condemns the most harmless things yet approves of slavery
and raping women. So if you take the Bible out of the equation, how does
Willow make you feel?”
Tara looks down at their feet, thinking about the question for a few
moments before she begins her answer. “She makes me happy. She’s my
best friend, and she’s so pretty and funny and smart. She’s so fucking smart.
When I’m with her, I forget who I’m supposed to be. I’m just me, and she’s
just her. I...” Her voice is shaky, and she stuttered through most of it, but
Harry is so proud of her for saying that much out loud.
“Do you love her, Tara? Do you love her like a girlfriend and not like a
friend?” Louis asks, his voice soft despite the heaviness of the question.
Harry almost can’t believe he asked it. Tara bites her lips and nods, as if she
doesn’t trust her voice. “Then that’s all that matters, at the end of the day.
You love who you love, and I’ve learned that there is no other way
regardless of my mistakes. You aren’t hurting anyone by loving each other.
What that is in terms of faith is for you to decide, but I hope that you will
realize that you were born this way regardless of if there is a God or not. It
wasn’t a mistake, and it’s not wrong. You’re not wrong.”
Harry feels like he is about to cry from Louis’ small speech. Holy fuck. The
realization that Harry trusts Louis hits him square in the chest, knocking the
wind from him. He trusts Louis. He wants Louis to know what happened
that night. He wants to show Louis his scars, and share a part of himself that
no one has ever seen. He wants to tell Louis how he feels, even though he
may not be able to say it outloud. He wants Louis to know because Louis
deserves to know. He has opened his mind to how Harry sees the world and
now it is time for Harry to open his heart to Louis. Let him in. He’s ready.
“Tara, I’m sorry.” They all turn at the sound of Willow’s voice. She is
behind them, picking at her nails nervously and looking down at her feet.
Niall and Liam are standing beside her, nervous looks on their faces. Harry
can’t imagine what Willow must be going through. Louis has never run
from him despite his faith. He has always been the one to run after Harry,
which Harry appreciates more than Louis will ever know. Louis has never
given up on him even though Harry tried to push him away more times than
he even wants to admit. He has broken down every single wall Harry has
put up to stop him and then some, but Harry is about to break down the
final one. He should feel nervous, but he doesn’t. Not right now. He is
sound in his decision, he just needs to get Louis alone.
“No, Will. I’m sorry. You don’t need to apologize. I shouldn’t have ran off
like that. Can we go somewhere and talk?” Tara asks, her voice stronger
this time as she goes up to Willow, wrapping her arms around her neck in a
hug. Willow’s arms automatically go around Tara’s waist, holding her close,
her body slacking in relief while a silent tear streams down her face. Willow
just nods, pulling away from Tara’s hug and taking her hand.
“Don’t worry about us. We will find a way home. We’re gonna find
somewhere to discuss things. I’ll text you later?” Willow asks, and both
Harry and Louis nod. Harry is happy for them. Maybe they will be okay.
Maybe him and Louis will be okay even after Harry tells him about his past.
He doesn’t think Louis will hate him for it anymore, nor does he think
Louis will pity or judge him. It’s time to move on and telling someone is the
first step in the process.
“Wanna go back to my place?” Harry asks, looking at Louis with wide eyes.
Louis probably thinks that Harry wants to go back to have sex, and while
that is true, there is so much more. Louis swallows, perhaps seeing the
severity in Harry’s features before he nods. They wave goodbye to both
Niall and Liam as they go hand in hand to Louis’ car, not really caring if
anyone sees them. The drive to Harry’s house is quick and silent, Harry not
trusting himself to say anything until they are in the comfort of his room.
Once they get inside, neither of them remove their attire, just their shoes,
then go down the hallway to Harry’s room. “Lou, sit down,” Harry says,
gesturing to the bed. Louis does as he was asked, looking somewhat
nervous. Harry sits down with him, taking his hands. He takes a deep
breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He knows his hands are shaking and
his eyes are already stinging with unshed tears. His throat feels raw, and he
hasn’t even started, yet, however he wants to do this. He needs to do this.
He needs to break down this last barrier between him and Louis. Between
them and their true happiness.
“I wanna tell you something. I know now that you won’t judge or pity me. I
trust you. I trust you with all my heart, Louis, and I think it’s time for you to
know what happened to me. What happened that left me and my family
broken. It is going to be hard for you to hear and even harder for me to tell
you, but I want to.” Louis looks dumbfounded, his mouth open in a small
‘o’ and his brows creased. He nods once, closing his mouth quickly and
squeezes Harry’s hands. It helps for some reason. Harry swallows the lump
in his throat and takes a deep breath, then begins his story.
Chapter End Notes
*Dodges random pieces of fruit and maybe a dildo*
Feel free to follow my Social Media accounts! I have a Tumblr now!
Give me Novacaine
Chapter Notes
So... this is early because Deanna got 63 likes on Twitter (you can
thank her lol)
I think it goes without saying that this chapter is going to have a fair
amount of violence. You may have guessed from Harry's inner
monologue in previous chapters that what he went through was
somewhat violent and traumatizing. I would say you can skip it, but it
is kind of crucial to the storyline and understanding Harry's character a
bit more.
The poems in this chapter are my own. I know I am no Edgar Allen

Poe, but yeah. I actually did writ them. They are dark. I was in a very
dark place. I have others that are worse lol. If they are shit, don't tell
me. I don't think 19 y/o Lena's heart could handle it lol.
I decided to write Harry's story in first person. It was a stylistic choice

that I hope you don't grab the pitchforks for. I think it makes it feel
more... personal. When I read over it again, it made me feel like I was
actually experiencing it. I hope you get the same feeling as well. I also
hope that this is worth it after all of the waiting I made you endure. I
hope this isn't shit, and you don't leave thinking "This wasn't worth all
of the hype". It is honestly one of my biggest fears. There is not a
moodboard for this chapter because I didn't want it to take away from
the story.
As always, special thanks to my amazing friends Zoe and Dana. Zoe is

a writer as well, so please her name to visit her Ao3 page and check
out her stories. They are both amazing people and even better friends. I
don’t know where I would be or this story would be without them.
with the emotions/theme of the chapter. This one has a song attached
to Give me Novacaine called She's a Rebel. Stupid Spotify. The song
ends right around the 3:25 mark.
Okay... enough from me. Seriously you are a saint if you have read this
much before even starting the chapter. I love you. All of you. Thank
you for supporting me through this journey.
Drain the pressure from the swelling
The sensation's overwhelming
Give me a long kiss goodnight and everything will be alright
Tell me that I won't feel a thing
So give me Novacaine- Green Day
“I don’t trust this Logan feller,” Niall said, as I paced around my room. I
just rolled my eyes fondly. Niall hadn’t liked him since I first mentioned him
a few months ago, but I liked him. That should have been all that mattered,
right? He also liked me which was important in the grand scheme of things.
We had met online a few months ago, just talking as friends, but it turned
into more than that. Logan said he liked me. He actually liked me even
though we lived in an area where it wasn’t accepted.
“I know, Ni, but I trust him. He’s sweet to me. He likes me, and I think I may
love him, Niall. I know I’m like only thirteen or whatever, and I’m not
supposed to know what love is, but I do love him. I swear, and I’m excited
about this. Why can you just be excited for me?” I asked, getting tired of
this conversation with Niall. I told Niall I loved Logan a few weeks ago,
and Niall just laughed at me. Niall wasn’t laughing anymore, though.
“Just, be careful tonight, H. I don’t want to see you get hurt,” Niall said, his
blue eyes worried. I rolled my eyes again, tired of hearing it. I was always
careful. It’s not like I was going to a dance with a stranger. I was going with
Logan. I knew Logan. I trusted Logan, and I hoped we could be official
boyfriends after this. I planned to ask him during the dance. Butterflies
erupted in my stomach at the thought. I knew he would say ‘yes’ though.
There was no doubt in my mind. He was always so sweet and caring during
our conversations. He really got me. He understood what it was like to be
gay and in the south.
“I will. Logan won’t hurt me though. He cares about me. I told you, Niall. I
trust him completely. I’m super excited about this,” I told him, letting a
bright smile take over my face as I got off the bed and walked over to my
closet to find the outfit I intended to wear. I’d had it picked out for weeks. A
pair of black slacks and a pink button up top. It might have been be a little
loud, but the other kids at the prom didn’t need to know I was going to be
there as Logan’s date, just his friend. We were technically just friends.
“Do your mom and dad know that you are going to a dance with a boy in
the next town over?” Niall asked, and I just gave him a look. He knew that
they didn’t know. I hadn’t even told them that I had been talking to someone.
They thought I was straight, though. There was no way I could tell them. We
went to church every Sunday. My dad was a Deacon in the Church. He
would have disowned me if he ever found out. I liked to believe my mom
would have accepted me, but I wasn’t about to test that theory. It was better
if they didn't know. “What about Gems?”
“It’s actually the middle school prom which makes it even more special, and
Gemma kind of knows. I conned her into taking me since she can drive.
She’s too wrapped up in her own life with her boyfriend to ask questions,
but she said she would take me,” I said, as I tried to keep the bitterness
from my tone. Gemma used to be my best friend, but then she discovered
boys and started ignoring me. Then I discovered boys and needed someone
to talk to, but I didn’t really have anyone until I told Niall. Niall was my
best friend. I trusted him with everything including my biggest secret. Niall
had never been one to judge, even so young.
“How are you getting home?” Niall asked next, and I felt like I was being
grilled by my parents. I knew he was just worried, but I was thirteen. I
could make my own decisions, and I knew what was right for me. I was
practically an adult, so he didn’t have to worry. I even went out and bought
condoms yesterday just incase. I wasn’t planning to lose my virginity tonight
however I wanted to be safe, and I chose to do that.
“Logan said his mom would bring me to your house,” I answered,

excitement lacing through my system at the thought of Logan again. Logan
was perfect, really. Sandy blond hair and brown eyes. He was so lovely. I
had never met him in person, but that didn't matter. We had talked every
single day for the past few months, but I was excited that I was finally
getting a chance to meet him. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to possibly
have sex with him, even though we hadn't really discussed going that far.
Maybe at the next dance or over the summer. I had planned to hang out
with Logan as much as possible over the summer, after all.
“Okay, but Gemma doesn’t know you’re meeting a boy, does she?” Niall
asked, his tone still conveyed his worry for me. I sat my outfit down on my
bed, took my shirt off then my pajama bottoms. I told Mom and Dad I was
going to spend the night with Niall, and I had planned to, after the dance
that was. They just didn’t have to know that I wasn’t going to be at Niall’s
until later. I was kind of scared to go alone however I trusted Logan, and I
felt I needed to do this despite the fact that my church said it’s wrong. How
could the feeling in my heart be wrong, though? What’s wrong with loving
someone?
“Nope, but I made her promise not to tell Mom and Dad. She thinks I am
going to see this girl,” I told him, thinking that the lie was perfect. If
nothing else, Gemma was trustworthy with this type of thing. I never
specifically told her I was going to see a girl, but she just assumed.
Everyone always just assumed people were straight because gay seemingly
wasn’t an option.
“Keep your phone on you at least. Call me or Gems if you need anything,”
Niall responded, eyes earnest, but I knew I wouldn't need anything. I had
this planned for a few weeks now; Logan and I discussed every detail I
could think of. He really wanted me to come and was willing to do anything
I wanted to get me there. I felt special, like he actually wanted to be with
me. I put my clothes on and turned to look in the mirror, inspecting my
appearance. I didn’t think I was all that attractive. My hair was too curly
and my teeth were too big in my wide mouth, but Logan seemed to think I
was good looking. I believed him.
“I will. How do I look?” I asked, turning to Niall with my arms open wide.
Gemma was downstairs waiting on me, and she wasn’t going to wait
forever. Mom and Dad had gone out on a date night but had told Gemma
that she could use Mom’s car to hang out with her friends. Gemma was just
going to take me to prom first.
“You look great. I hope you have fun,” Niall answered, his voice sincere as
he clapped me on the back. I smiled at him, happy he seemed to finally be
on board with the whole thing. I tried to tamp down my nerves as I made my
way down stairs, stopping on the landing as I heard Gemma let out a low
whistle.
“My little brother is finally growing up,” Gemma said dramatically, as she
wiped a fake tear from her eye. I would have smacked her if I didn’t need
her to take me to see Logan. I couldn’t wait until I could get my licence and
have more freedom. It was only a few years away, but it seemed like forever.
I was just excited to have a little bit of freedom to be who I wanted to be
and tonight felt like the first step towards that.
“Shut up. Are you ready to go?” I asked with a smile. She nodded in
response, and Niall followed us out the door, walking towards his house
with a wave. I took another deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart.
When we got into the car, I wiped my hands on my slacks, my palms sweaty
from nerves. Logan probably wouldn’t like a boy with sweaty palms. He
would think it was gross, so I prayed that they wouldn’t be that way when I
finally met him in half an hour.
He told me to have Gemma drop me off at the McDonald’s across the street
from his school, then instructed me to meet him behind the school first. I
thought that was weird, but I assumed he maybe wanted to get our initial
meeting out of the way in private. Maybe he wanted to finally kiss me. My
stomach did somersaults at the idea. I would have my first kiss by end of the
night. Holy shit. I would finally get to kiss a boy. I had never had any desire
to kiss a girl, which was probably my first inclination that I was gay.
The drive to McDonald’s was quiet. I was too worried about telling Gemma
everything if I so much as opened my mouth or puking from my anxiety.
Either option would have spelled disaster, so I kept my mouth shut and
watched the trees move through the window, trying to concentrate on
keeping my breathing pattern normal. I was jogging my leg though, shaking
the whole car, and fiddling with the cuticles on my nail bed, needing
something to do to release the nervous energy flowing through my veins. My
heart felt like it had stopped beating when I saw McDonald’s and instructed
Gemma to pull over there. She gave me an odd look, but did as I asked.
“Thanks. I’ll just get out here. I’m meeting erm- her at the school,” I said
as I got out of the the car. Gemma gave me a suspicious look but just waved
goodbye anway. I watched her pull out of the parking lot before I
straightened my outfit, making sure everything was smooth and perfect for
the first time I would see Logan. The school seemed to be empty, which was
strange considering the fact that a dance was supposed to be taking place,
but I shrugged it off, thinking that maybe he wanted me there early to hang
out beforehand. Maybe he would want to go eat or something. My stomach
churned at the thought of food, too taken up by knots to even contemplate
eating.
I made my way behind the school and spotted the red dumpster Logan said
would be there and leaned up against the wall, waited nervously looking
down at my phone to check the time. He should be here any minute, and I
was becoming more anxious with each second that passed in silence. It felt
like there was something in my stomach, ripping it to shreds. I swallowed,
trying to tamp down the sensation. Just when I started to grab my phone to
call Gemma to come and get me, thinking that Logan had stood me up, I
heard a voice.
“Sugar.” I heard the sound of a southern drawl belonging to what I knew to

be Logan’s voice. I hadn’t heard him speak before, all of our conversations
having been online, but he was the only person that called me sugar. I loved
the nickname. I loved the way it made me feel, like my heart had skipped a
few beats every time he used it. It made me feel special. It was nice to feel
special to someone other than my family and friends. I took a deep breath
and turned around, smiling brightly, excited to finally see the boy I loved in
person.
“Logan. He…” My greeting trailed off when I saw that Logan wasn’t even
dressed nicely. He was was wearing a light blue polo shirt and jeans, his
hands stuffed into his pocket. His blond hair laid gelled on his head, brown
eyes looking dark with intent. He wasn’t alone. Behind him were three other
boys, all glaring at me. I tried to tell myself that they were just Logan’s
friends. That maybe Logan was just getting ready to go get dressed for the
dance. Logan loved me. He would never hurt me, so I stamped my fear
down, and waved at all of them, attempting to smile. My face fell when they
didn’t wave back.
“What’s the matter, Sugar? Expectin’ a dance?” Logan asked, handsome

features curling into a menacing smile. I felt myself start to panic as I
began to back away from the boys carefully, not wanting a confrontation. I
was alone. No one knew where I was except Niall and Gemma. Fear
gripped me, but I tried to keep a level head. I couldn’t panic. I could have
just been jumping to conclusions. Would Logan really harm me? No. There
was no way. He loved me. He would never hurt me. He told me that he was
just like me. That I meant something to him, so this had to be some kind of
misunderstanding.
Maybe that wasn’t Logan, but someone that found out and was
impersonating him. He looked exactly like pictures that he had sent me, so
that couldn’t be it. That was Logan, the boy I had stared at for hours on end
because he was just so gorgeous. At first, I didn’t believe someone that good
looking could be interested in someone as un-extraordinary as me, but he
was. He told me that I was cute and gave me compliments every time I had
sent him a new picture. I felt lucky to have found him. Well he found me, but
regardless, I counted my lucky stars every day to have found someone who
understood me, finally. Someone who also liked boys and wouldn’t judge me
because of that.
“Logan? What are you doing?” I asked, trying to keep the panic from my
voice, but it wavered just a bit, making Logan’s smile broader. I tried to
keep my eyes on them, but it was hard with Logan very slowly walking
towards me, while the other boys circled me. I cried out when my back came
into contact with something soft, a moment later strong arms hooked
around my own, effectively trapping me. I immediately started pulling away,
but the hold just tightened, another boy coming up to help. I now had one
person holding each of my arms.
“What does it look like I’m doing? I can’t believe you fell for it. So gullible.
Why on Earth would anyone ever be interested in a freak like you?” His
words cut me down to the core. He’s right. How could I have been so
fucking gullible? How could I actually have believed anyone was interested
in me at all? I was a fucking idiot. Logan’s right. I was a freak. I was wrong
for liking boys.
“You’re disgusting. You’re so fucking stupid for thinking any of this was
real,” The guy with the dark hair said, prompting all four boys to laugh. My
stomach dropped at his words, a sick feeling taking me over as fear coursed
through my system. Why would anyone do this? Why me? I hadn’t hurt
anyone. I thought-- I just thought he loved me. He was always so sweet and
caring when we spoke. He had never said anything hurtful or mean.
“Why?” I asked, the word catching in my throat, feeling as if it was about

to strangle me. I couldn’t believe this. This couldn’t be happening. This had
to be a nightmare of some sort. Logan would never do this to me, but his
words were echoing in my ears, bringing me harshly down to reality. He
said he cared about me. He said he understood. He said he wanted to be
with me. My heart felt like it was breaking as I tried to process everything
happening around me, the boys holding my arms, Logan inching closer.
“ Someone needs to teach you what’s right and wrong. When I found you
online, I knew it had to be us. Our church says we should pray the gay
away, but praying didn’t work. It’s time to take action,” he responded, now
so close to me I felt his breath on my face. I had pictured his breath being
on my face in a completely different scenario. Oh how wrong I had been.
Fear was paralyzing my limbs. I couldn’t even fight back. What was the
point? I was outnumbered, and maybe I deserved this. Maybe this was
God’s punishment for me. I should have never gone against the Bible. I
knew better, but I had let sin tempt me. Now I was going to pay the price for
it.
“Look. The fag’s crying,” the boy holding my right arm pointed out,
laughing in my ear. I hadn’t even realized it, but I was crying. A single tear
made it’s way down my cheek, landing on the collar of my pink shirt. I
sniffled trying to hold back more tears. They hadn’t touched me yet, but my
whole body already hurt with their words. I felt like his words slapped me in
the face. Fuck. I looked around at all of their smiling faces, as they laughed
at my expense. I kept trying to tell myself this wasn’t real, or that maybe this
was going to be the worst of it. Logan wouldn’t hurt me, surely. He had
spent the last few months getting to know me. I told him all of my secrets,
my dreams, my desires. How could he hurt someone he knew?
“It was disgusting how you came on to me at first, but I somehow dealt with
it, knowing I would find a way to teach you. Maybe you’ll understand that
you aren’t normal. You are a freak. You are disgusting. You are a plague on
society and you have no fucking morals. God hates you. The world hates
you.” I shook my head, refusing to believe it, but the words were sinking
into like a ship taking on water. They felt like they were slapping me. I even
flinched because they hurt me so badly. He was right. I was a freak. I was
disgusting. God should hate me.
“Maybe this will teach you to fix your wicked ways,” Logan said, sounding
very much like the preacher that I heard at church every Sunday. I
remembered the homosexuality sermon like it was yesterday, the words
seared into my brain even though I didn’t really understand them. I still
don’t. Not really, but maybe the preacher was right. Maybe I shouldn’t have
ever pursued Logan when he messaged me. Maybe I should have tamped
down my desire.
“Fuck,” I cried out in surprise when Logan delivered the first blow. It came
directly to my stomach, immediately knocking the breath from me as my
knees buckled from the pain. The boys held me up though, not letting me fall
to the ground quite yet. I tried to breathe however the pain was too much,
so I decided on shallow breaths since they hurt less.
“You're nothing but a filthy faggot, an abomination,” Logan said, punching

my stomach two more times along with his words. I blinked a few times, my
vision going blurry as more pain rocked my entire system. This time when
my knees buckled, the boys let me fall to the ground laughing when my back
hit it harshly, another pain shooting through me. The ground was hard and
rough under me, scratching at my skin through the fabric of my shirt. I held
my stomach, attempting to breath through my nose as tears fell from my
eyes down into my ears. I didn’t bother wiping them away, though. All I
could see were the three boys standing over me, looking down at me
laughing. Please tell me this is the worst of it. Please.
“God hates you. He hates your kind. You’re not worth the dirt you walk
on.” It wasn't Logan’s voice this time, so it must have been one of the
others. I felt something hot and sticky on my face the next instant. I knew
right away that one of them had spat on me. I rolled over, using a shaking
arm to wipe it away, and they used that moment when I left my stomach
unprotected to start kicking me. I wrapped my arms around my torso,
attempting to shield myself from the worst of it, but they landed kicks on my
spine, ribs and sides, each one sending a searing, white hot shock through
my system. I couldn’t even cry out anymore. There wasn't anyone around to
hear me.
“I hope you enjoy your time in hell you fag,” Logan spat, then kicked me in
the ribs one last time for good measure. Each breath I tried to take was
excruciating and my vision was definitely getting dark. I coughed a few
times, crying out again with each one because it hurt more than I could
ever put into words. If I had eaten anything prior, I would have definitely
thrown up by now. I tried to focus on the ground, not the shoes that were
currently circling me, probably trying to decide what they wanted to do
next.
“Hold ‘im.” I heard Logan say. I opened my eyes just in time to see the
world spin around me as four strong arms pulled me up from the cold
ground. I could feel the snot and tears on my face, and I bowed my head,
not wanting to see him. He was someone I had thought I loved, and now he
had betrayed me. I watched as his hands come up to my shirt, ripping the
material and popping the buttons so that my pale chest was exposed. I tried
to fight back, but the boys held me firm, laughing as they watched their
friend take out a black sharpie from his back pocket. I felt the tip press
against my chest a few moments later and closed my eyes, too afraid to see
what he had written, too sick to my stomach to even be able to comprehend
what was happening to me.
“I want you to look at me when I say this.” Logan’s voice was harsh and
demanding, his hand coming up to my face to pinch my cheek roughly,
bringing my eyes to meet his brown ones. I tried to pull my face away, not
wanting to look at him, scared for my life. My whole body hurt, each breath
I took excruciating as my ribs screamed from my inhales. My eyes meet his
again, and I couldn't find a soul in them. I couldn't find a God to pray to
when he looked so heartless. “You're a freak , a nobody. No one would miss
you, you know? I don’t know why you don’t just do the world a favor and
kill yourself, you sick fuck.” His fist collided with my face a moment later,
and I fell to the ground again, this time on my knees.
I stayed as still as possible as Logan and his cronies finally walked away
from me. I just knelt there, as if praying, but not finding a god. My arms
were shaking as they tried to support all of my weight, my knees digging
into the asphalt. The discomfort of the surface was nothing compared to the
pain in the rest of my body. My head was pounding and I wondered if each
breath I took was going to be my last. This had to be what it felt like to die.
I watched the snot, blood, and tears on my face fall to the cold dirty ground.
A ground that I was no better than. I was so fucking stupid and ashamed of
myself. Ashamed of how I felt, the betrayal settling into my knotted stomach.
Once I knew that they had gone, I looked at my surroundings. I crawled to

the nearest wall, leaving a trail of bodily fluids as I went, trying to decide
what to do. When I got to the wall, I maneuvered my stiff body so that my
back was resting against it, allowing it to take my weight. I looked down to
see the words ‘GOD HATES YOU’ in big bold letters scrolled across my
chest by the person I had loved. The black letters fell up and down with
each excruciating inhale, reminding me that I was somehow still alive. I
couldn't stop the tears that fell from my swollen eyes, the pain in my chest
from my heart finally breaking leaving me breathless. I wanted to die.
Logan hated me. My family would hate me if they knew. God hated me. I
hated myself.
I deserved this, and I should probably sit here and suffer in pain. I should
probably lay here until someone found me, to either help me or put me out
of misery. I wasn't going to beg one way or the other at this point. After
sitting there on the cold hard surface of the asphalt, sobbing for what felt
like hours, I took out my phone. My throat was raw from my cries and silent
screams. My left eye was swollen from Logan’s final blow, the blood from a
cut he made dripping into it, making it sting, but I could see out of my right
eye as I dialed Niall’s number. I was so fucking stupid.
______________
“Then what happened?” Louis asks, his eyes stinging with tears. He bites
his cheek to keep them at bay. Harry looks like he is barely holding back a
panic attack after telling the story, and Louis feels like he can’t breathe,
however, he needs to stay strong for both of them. He can’t break when
Harry is so obviously close to it. His heart hurts for Harry though, and he
can’t believe someone could be so fucking cruel to his beautiful boy. His
body feels as though he was thrown from a bridge, hurting on Harry’s
behalf. He can’t even begin to imagine what that was like for Harry. He
must have been so scared and alone.
Louis wishes he had known Harry then. He wishes that he could have been
there for him. He would have never done anything like that to him, but it
explains so much about Harry’s trust issues. It also explains why he isn’t
very confident because the only person who had ever shown interest in him
was a liar. He did it as some kind of sick joke to get Harry alone so they
could ‘beat the gay away’. Louis feels sick with the knowledge, the food he
had eaten earlier churning in his stomach. His whole body is shaking with
his outrage. He has the sudden desire to find this Logan guy and hurt him
like he hurt Harry. Like he continues to hurt Harry.
“Niall called Gemma even though I begged him not to. He didn’t have a
choice though because he was too young to drive, so he had to get someone
involved. They came together and picked me up. Gemma was pretty scared.
She wanted to tell Mom and Dad, but I begged her not to. I told her I was
mugged and covered up the words written on my chest. I ended up
blackmailing her, saying that if she told Mom and Dad about me, I would
tell them about her getting her bellybutton pierced and sneaking out to be
with her boyfriend most nights. She took me to Niall’s house, and Niall
bandaged me up a bit. When I got home the next day, I told Mom and Dad
that I fell down the stairs at Niall’s house, and got hurt a little,” Harry says,
his voice breaking Louis out of his spiraling thoughts.
“Is that the end?” Louis asks, almost scared of the answer. He knows it’s
not the end. It doesn’t explain the scars on Harry’s arms, but Louis kind of
wishes it was. He doesn't know how much more of this story his heart can
take, but he is so proud of Harry for opening up, for letting Louis in. His
heart just hurts for everything Harry has been through. It’s hard to imagine
someone you love going through something like that without you. Harry
never has to be alone again, not with Louis around. He won’t let that type of
shit happen.
“No,” Harry answers, looking down at his hand and scratching his arm. His
voice shakes with the word, and Louis tries to still his racing heart. Harry
takes a deep breath, bottom lip trembling just enough for Louis to see he is
on the verge of tears, but he continues, “After that, I kind of fell into a
depression. I wouldn’t leave my room. I didn’t sleep or eat really. The only
thing I drank was the alcohol I pilfered from my dad's liquor cabinet. I
started pushing my parents and Gemma away. Mom and Dad began fighting
over me and what they should do with me, about me, which made things
worse. They seperated, and we moved into the house mom and I lived in
when we met, but they were trying to work things out, I guess. I felt like it
was my fault that my family was falling apart, but I couldn’t talk to them
about it. I-I started cutting myself.” Harry whispers the last part, head
bowed. Louis can see a few tears fall from his eyes, landing on the sleeve of
Harry’s suit jacket.
“Harry.” Louis releases his name on a breath, not really knowing what else
to say at this point. He knew it, but it doesn't make it any easier to hear. He
wants to grab Harry and squeeze him, but he isn’t even sure if Harry wants
to be touched right now. Not after practically reliving something so raw.
Louis blinks a few times, trying to fight back his own tears, but he can’t
anymore. He just can’t. His heart is too heavy, his body in too much pain.
He can feel the tear travel from his eye down his cheek and onto his jaw,
but he doesn’t bother wiping it away, too scared of whatever else Harry has
to say. He can tell he isn’t done, and Louis isn’t sure how much more he can
handle before he breaks too.
“There’s more,” Harry confirms, green eyes finally coming up to meet

Louis’. They are shiny with tears, and Louis’ heart fucking shatters in that
moment. What could possibly be worse than what Harry had just said to
him? Louis wants to clutch his chest to maybe relieve some of the pain
residing there. He wants to hold Harry so tightly, that maybe, just maybe, he
can put him back together again. He wants to wipe away Harry’s tears, but
he is frozen in the moment. He has never felt so helpless in all his life.
There is nothing he can say or do that will take away Harry’s pain and
everything he has endured at the hands of someone he thought he loved.
Louis tries to hold back his tears as he nods, silently asking Harry to
continue. He takes Harry’s hands, hoping to maybe give him strength.
Harry doesn’t have to tell him everything, but he knows that. Louis
squeezes them. They are shaking but still warm and familiar.
“Like I said. I- I was really depressed after the incident. I was so fucking
angry at myself and everyone around me. I hated myself for even getting
into that situation and being stupid enough to trust people. I didn’t really
know how to let it all out, so I-I started cutting to relieve some of the pain
inside of me. At first, it was really shallow, and it hardly ever left a mark,
but then it started getting more frequent and deeper. I was numb, and I
wanted to feel something. Anything to remind me that I was alive, even
though I didn’t want to be. One night, Logan messaged me,” Harry says, his
eyes going far away as if he is experiencing it all over again. Haunted by
ghosts from the past that Louis can't see. Louis squeezes his hands again,
hoping to help anchor him.
“He said that he wished he would have killed me that night because there is
no way to beat the gay away. He said I wasn’t worth the air I breathed, and I
should have taken his advice and killed myself. I was so upset and
distraught by his words, I-I took his advice, Lou,” Harry goes on, eyes
meeting Louis’ again, his statement sinking in. Louis’ stomach drops, and
he feels as though his throat is closing off. No. Harry can’t mean…. Fuck.
No. Louis tries to swallow the bile rising in his throat, a few tears falling
with his realization. He doesn’t even know if he is still breathing. He
doesn't want Harry to continue his story. It’s all too fucking painful for
Louis, but Harry is the one who endured it. He has to do this. He has to help
Harry burden some of the weight of his past.
“I slit my wrists, Lou. The left one was worse than the right. I didn’t go
deep enough on the right side, so there is barely a scar, but I-I tried to kill
myself.” Harry’s voice cracks with the admission, his whole body shaking
as he begins to sob, the memory finally enveloping him. Louis reaches for
him quickly, grabbing and pulling Harry into his arms where Harry goes
willingly. Harry starts crying on his shoulder, his sobs coming out even
harder than before, as Louis begins stroking his back. He would pray to
God that Harry doesn’t have a panic attack, but God let this happen to him.
He let Harry endure so fucking much at the hands of someone that claimed
to be a Christian. Louis cries, too. He cries for all of the people who didn’t
survive things like this. He cries because he can’t believe in a God that
allowed something like this to happen to a thirteen year old boy that was so
vibrant and happy. Harry didn’t deserve this. He cries because he loves
Harry so much it hurts him, and he couldn’t do anything to save him.
“You don’t have to tell me anything else, baby,” Louis manages to say,
despite his own tears threatening to choke him. Harry’s breathing has
calmed down quite a bit, but it is still choppy, coming out in hard, quick
huffs. Louis continues to hold him, stroking his back and carding his fingers
through his dark curls. He will hold Harry forever if that is what it takes to
put him back together. He will give him pieces of himself if it means Harry
will be whole again.
“I want to,” Harry says, words muffled by the fabric of Louis’ shirt. Harry
sits up, wiping his eyes and nose before he meets Louis’ eyes again. He is
so beautiful in that moment, it hurts Louis more than anything else in the
world. Harry is brokenly beautiful in a way that will haunt Louis for the rest
of his life. Louis will never forget these moments. The moments between
shattered heartbeats when Harry lets his guard down and allows himself to
be vulnerable with Louis. Louis gets to see Harry for who he is and not the
emotionless boy he pretends to be. Louis has never felt more special in his
entire life. Harry chose him to share this with. His heart aches with that
thought.
“Okay, baby. Take some deep breaths for me first,” Louis instructs, placing
his hand over Harry’s broken heart. He feels Harry inhale and exhale
slowly, the silky material of his shirt moving under Louis’ fingertips. Louis
is suddenly so thankful that Harry is breathing. That his heart, though it
may have been broken, continues to still beat. He came so close to losing
him before he even knew him. He smiles at him for a brief moment,
wanting to let Harry know that he isn’t upset with him or judging him.
Harry returns his smile. It’s tiny, but it’s there and maybe, just maybe, Harry
will be alright. It’s a fucking miracle that he isn’t more fucked up than he is.
The fact that Harry can still smile after everything is more miraculous than
a virgin birth.
“My mom found me lying in a pool of my own blood in my room. She

called an ambulance and tried to stop the bleeding. I don’t remember much,
just her crying and trying to get me to stay conscious, but I didn’t want to. I
wanted to die. I didn’t think I deserved to live. I thought God wanted me to
die. The next thing I remember is waking up in a hospital bed to the sound
of my parents arguing. They didn't know I was awake, but my dad was
telling my mom that he wanted a divorce. He said he couldn’t handle
having a fucked up son. It was embarrassing, and that I was a
disappointment. He didn't want a son who was that weak, and he didn’t
want anything to do with us. My mom cried and begged him to stay, but he
just said that she could stay with her fucked up kids because it had to be her
fault. He couldn’t have raised someone so insane. He left a moment later,
and that was the last time I saw him. My mom collapsed on the chair and
cried as I continued to pretend be asleep.”
Louis is now openly crying, not be able to keep the tears at bay any longer.
Holy shit. Everything clicks into place like pieces of a puzzle. Everything
makes sense, now. Harry’s strained relationship with his mom. Harry’s trust
and confidence issues. Even the reasoning for Anne not wanting to go into
Harry’s room. Who could blame her after she found her son in such a state?
He doesn't know if he forgives Anne for how she was after everything, but
he can kind of see where she is coming from now. How scared she must
have been in that moment and all of the moments after. She probably felt
helpless. Louis understands that. He feels helpless right now. He could see
why Harry would hate religion, but not to the extreme that he does. He
wants to ask, but he is going to let Harry finish his story. He can tell Harry
isn’t done yet, which makes his heart break even more. How much more
could he have possibly suffered?
“Instead of calling a therapist, the hospital thought it would be better to call

a preacher,” Harry tells him next, and Louis feels sick again. Why the fuck
wouldn’t they call a fucking therapist? What the fuck was a preacher going
to do? Almost as if Harry knows what Louis is thinking, he answers his
unspoken question. “It’s the South. They think God can heal everything,
even mental illness. So the preacher comes in, and I break down at tell him
everything. I tell him about Logan, and why I tried to kill myself. He didn’t
even care why I wanted to die, just didn’t want me to commit suicide ‘cause
it’s a one way ticket to Hell. He actually told me that this was God’s
warning to me. That God allowed it to happen because he wanted to set me
on a better path. He pretty much said that Logan was right for doing it. He
then proceeded to try and pray the gay away. He put his filthy fucking
hands on my face and prayed that the Devil would leave me and allow God
to take my body and heal me of my sins. That God would rid me of my
urges. ”
More tears fall from Louis’ eyes at Harry’s words. Fuck. It’s no wonder
Harry hates religion as much as he does. After going through so much then
having a preacher say that the person who did it to you was right. That the
person was sent by God to do it. He understands Harry so much more now.
He understands why he hates religion, and Louis kind of hates it to on his
behalf because what the preacher did and said was just awful. No one
deserves to be beaten then sent hate messages saying he should kill himself.
He is so fucking proud of Harry for still being here, for still fighting this
battle because Louis doesn’t know how much he would have been able to
endure, personally. He thinks he would have broken, especially when the
preacher confirmed his fears.
“After the preacher left, I was so angry at him and at a God I wasn’t even
sure I believed in anymore. That was when I started studying religion. I was
also just told what to believe, and that I should or I would go to hell. I
figured if I studied it, maybe I could understand why I was gay. The more I
read though, the more I realized it was all bullshit. I hated religion after
that. I talked to Niall quite a bit, but everything was so fucked up with
mom. Niall visited me in the hospital every single day. I don’t know where I
would be without him. We were friends before, but we were best friends
after that. He never, ever made me feel bad for what I tried to do nor did he
judge me.” Louis had the sudden urge to hug Niall and kiss him. He
protected Harry when Louis didn’t know he needed protection. Niall is a
God. Niall should be worshiped. Harry is still alive and was able to meet
Louis because of Niall.
“Do you still-- umm-- hurt yourself?” Louis asks, his voice coming out raw
from disuse as more tears fall from his eyes. He almost chokes on the
question, hating the way it sounds coming from his mouth. He hates
everything about what happened. He thinks he knows the answer because a
few of the the marks that he saw looked more recent than the others, but he
needs confirmation. He would do anything to take his pain away, though.
“Not really. I had a-- um-- slip up recently, but I mostly try to get
everything out in my poetry,” Harry answers, not looking at Louis when he
mentions the ‘slip up’. Louis’ heart freezes, his whole system shutting
down. Harry not only had a panic attack because of him, but he also cut
himself. Oh no. Oh fuck. No. That-- that can’t be true. Harry hurt himself
because of Louis. Louis is definitely going to be sick. He feels like he can’t
get any air into his lungs. He was one of the reasons Harry felt the need to
cut himself. Louis just can’t handle that knowledge. He never, ever wants to
hurt Harry. He hates everyone who has, and at this moment, he hates
himself.
“Oh my god, Harry. I…” Louis’ apology trails off with his sobs. He can’t
hold it any longer. He hates himself. He can’t fucking believe he was one of
the causes of Harry’s pain. Harry’s arms are around him the next moment,
but Louis doesn’t deserve it. He should be the one comforting Harry, not the
other way around. Harry shouldn’t even want to touch him. He is no better
than Logan. He caused Harry to fucking hurt himself. He tries to push
Harry away, but Harry holds him tightly. Louis feels like he should leave.
Like he should leave Harry in his house alone so that he isn’t around
someone that hurt him in that way. Harry doesn’t need someone like Louis.
He can’t even believe Harry gave him a chance despite his own faith and
belief that he would eventually just marry a woman. No, he definitely
doesn’t deserve Harry. He doesn’t even deserve to breathe the same air as
someone as pure as Harry.
“Hey, Lou. I need you to listen to me.” Harry grabs Louis’ face, forcing
Louis to meet his eyes. Louis doesn’t want to, though. Looking at the pain
in Harry’s green eyes is almost too much to bear. The pain that Louis is
somewhat responsible for. He just can’t handle that idea. He hates that he
had even caused a panic attack, but now this. Harry hurt himself because of
Louis. Louis was supposed to be helping him not hurting him. He doesn't
even deserve Harry’s acknowledgement right now, much less his heart or
trust.
“That was all a misunderstanding and in the past. If it wasn’t for Logan, I
would have never reacted that way. Logan is the person who hurt me, and
the reason I hurt myself, even that day. Not you. Everything that was
happening just kind of triggered my memories of Logan. There was no way
that you could have known what I had been through, Lou, so please don’t
blame yourself. You-- you have helped me more than anyone on Earth. You
are the reason I smile, Lou. Please understand that. You have single
handedly taken the darkness out of my world and replaced it with light. You
created light, Louis. You are light. You are everything good and beautiful,
and fuck, I am so fucking lucky that you fought for me. For this. For us.
Even though I was an asshole, and tried to push you away with everything I
had, you continued to light up my world more than the fucking sun.” He
doesn't sound hesitant about his words at all, he sounds sure which is a
direct contrast to his normal reluctant admissions. He sounds like he does
when speaking of religion. Confident.
Louis almost says it then. He almost says the words that have been
threatening to come out of his mouth since the day Liam confronted him
about Harry. He bites his tongue, instead, knowing that Harry needs to say
it first. He thinks Harry is going to for a brief moment, his large thumb
coming up to wipe Louis’ tears away. After everything that Harry has been
through, he is wiping Louis’ tears away when it should be the opposite.
Harry is so strong; Louis admires him so much. Louis hopes he can
eventually be as strong as Harry.
“Do you wanna read some of my poetry?” Harry asks instead, and Louis is
kind of shocked by the question. He didn’t think he would ever be allowed
to read Harry’s poems. He hasn’t even touched the leather bound journal
that Harry keeps with him. Harry won’t let anyone near it, but he is asking
if Louis wants to read some of it. Read his innermost thoughts. Holy shit.
Louis nods, not trusting his own voice right now.
“Okay. Some of it is pretty dark. You’ve been warned,” Harry says, with a
small laugh. Louis doesn’t think it’s a joke though and watches as Harry
reaches under his bed, pulling the journal out. Louis’ eyes immediately go
to it, his fingers itching to open it and finally get to peek inside. He has
always been fascinated with the way Harry’s brain works. Again, he feels
privileged for even getting to touch something so precious to Harry, but the
brown leather journal is in his hands. It is surprisingly light, given the hurt
that is written in it’s pages. He traces some of the words and phrases etched
into the material, ‘let us love’ being his favorite.
“Is there a certain one you want me to read?” Louis asks, opening the pages
and flipping through. It is almost full, Louis can see. He would recognize
Harry’s handwriting anywhere, but it isn’t just words. There are also
drawings within the worn pages, some full of doodles. Some drawings are
darker than others, but they are all good. Louis doodles on his notebooks all
the time, but it is usually stupid shit like stick figures or paper airplanes. He
looks at Harry, not wanting to inspect further without Harry’s blessing. He
doesn't want to see anything that Harry isn’t ready for him to see yet.
“Um-- Just not the last one,” Harry says, and Louis’ curiosity is peaked.
Even though his entire body is begging him to go the last page, he doesn't.
Instead he finds a poem called ‘Hell’s Paradise’ and begins reading.
Cut me
Scratch me
Fuck me
Catch me
Coop me up
Trap me in
Loop the ropes
Snap me in
Pain all the same

Blood always red
Remain in hell where
Mud turns to dust
Blow the dust

In my eyes
Slow the torture
Mend the tears
In my skin
Make them again, with
Sin as my savior
Take me to Hell
Chain me up
Lock me in
Pain gives me strength
Talk to my sin
Without sin
We can not survive
Doubt no more
See no less
Just what's in front

Or what's behind
Lust is a sin a
Lour in the mind
Freedom is my lover
Lust is one of my many sins
Come to me master
Trust you must win
Strike me down
Pick me up
Light the fire
Stick me with torches
Brand me
Spit on me
Stand my ground
Hit my head
Erase the tears

Away from my black eyes
Face to face
Pay for this paradise
Flame reflections
Form in the black
Pain from my body
Soar into the air
Paying back the people

Who put me in this Hell
Weighing their sins
Too many to tell
Watch them burn

Torture at my command
Notch them off
Or let them go
Welcome everyone
To my Hell
Do they wish that they never
Condemned me to this place?
To take them down with me,
Mind them all, was their fate.
Make them bleed
Like I have in the past
Wake them up
Night to dawn
Never going to see the sunshine
Only a flame or me
Sever their skin or
Me in their eyes
Louis is shocked by the anger in the poem. The anger Harry must have felt
to write something like it. It makes him want to cry all over again. Harry
wanted to punish people the way they punished him and used Hell as a
metaphor for it. He can almost feel the ferocity and hurt in Harry’s words,
especially with his mention of trust. Harry was so fucking angry at
everyone around him, but no one even bothered to help. Louis is sure Niall
tried, but there is only so much a young boy can do for his friend. Harry
must have felt so alone.
“Um-- I wrote this one when I lost my faith,” Harry says, his deep voice
breaking into Louis’ thoughts. Harry reaches down, flipping the pages of
the book to a different poem, this one titled ‘Humane’. Louis lowers his
eyes to read.
This cold numbness

Has given relief to my pain
No more feeling
No more blame
A black ink
Flows through my veins
Taking away the Humanity
That caused me this pain
My sight is as murky
As a puddle of mud
My world is as cold
As my own blood
The only warmth I feel

Are the tears that fall from my eyes
When I awake in a nightmare
A web of truth and your lies
Stop the breaths

That come from my chest
I beg of you
Please, just give me to the west
Humanity is weak
Just like the Savior
It’s deception of belief
To force a change in behavior
There is no Light
Stop begging to it
There is no reason
For my soul to be lit
No more feeling
No more pain
No more emotion
No longer humane
This one cuts Louis down to his soul. It just feels so raw and true. Like an
acceptance of some sort, and Louis kind of understands it. That moment of
fear when you realize you don’t believe something anymore, and you aren’t
sure what to do with yourself. Aren’t even sure who you are or what it is to
be human. He also thinks this is when Harry started shutting himself off to
the world, the walls around his heart constructed and reinforced. When
Harry figured out how to mask his emotions because they were what made
him human.
“I know they are shitty, but yeah. You’re the first person to ever read them,”
Harry admits, looking down at the page then at Louis’ face. Louis knows
his mouth is open in awe, and he hopes Harry doesn’t take his shock as
something bad. He just- well he doesn't know what to say. Harry has opened
himself up to Louis. He has trusted him in a way that Louis never thought
was possible. He showed him his demons, and he is continuing to do so. It
is amazing and brave and everything Louis wishes he could be.
“They aren’t shitty at all, Haz. They are actually really good. I had no idea
you were so talented. Holy fuck. Thank you, baby. Thank you for showing
this to me and trusting me enough to share your story. I’m so proud of you,
Harry. I’m so proud that you held on even when it felt like everything was
falling down around you. You’re so fucking strong. I also want you to know
that I am happy that you’re alive. That you exist. You said that I am your
light, but Harry, you are so much to me. You mean so much to me, and the
thought of you not being here for me to know, makes me not want to live in
this world,” Louis says even though his words don’t feel like they are
enough.
He doesn’t think he could ever tell Harry how he feels because there are no
words for it. He wants to say so much. He wants to tell Harry that he loves
him, but he can’t. He can’t do that until Harry says it first, so instead, he
leans in, kissing Harry like his life depends on it because it may just come
down to that. He hopes that his kiss can show Harry how much he means to
him. How happy he is that Harry is alive and breathing. That Harry’s
attempt was just that - an attempt. He can’t believe how close he came to
losing Harry before he even knew him. It would have been an injustice to
the world. Harry has taught Louis so much about himself that Louis feels
like he has been altered. Like he will never, ever be the same, and he doesn't
want to be. Harry is his other half. When he’s not with Harry, he feels weak.
Harry makes him strong.
Chapter End Notes
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Tumblr: Wicked-Archer
I Caught Fire
Chapter Summary
After their emotional conversation, Louis wants to show Harry how

much he adores him
Chapter Notes
This chapter is quite fluffy and emotional... Hope you enjoyxx

And I’m melting

in your eye
Like my first time
That I caught fire
Stay with me
Lay with me now- The Used
Harry feels raw after telling his story then letting Louis see his poetry, like
he skin has been turned inside out and the sun is burning down on it. It is
though, isn’t it? Harry is just shocked that he didn’t have a panic attack
while recounting it. It’s the first time he has ever even said it outloud. They
don’t talk about it. He and his mom don’t talk about it, and Niall rarely
brings it up, if ever. Gemma has tried, but Harry just yelled at her, so she
stopped after a while. He doesn’t blame her. He was so angry back then. It’s
not shocking that everyone he loves abandoned him when he didn’t even
want to be with himself. He finds that he doesn't regret tell Louis, though.
Not with the way Louis is looking at him, almost as if he loves him. He
can’t, though. Can he? His faith doesn’t allow it, so he can’t possibly love
Harry.
Louis’ kiss is gentle at first, his lips soft and sure, as if he wants it to say
something that he isn’t able to express. Harry understands that, so he kisses
back, deepening it. He can taste the saltiness of Louis’ tears on his lips, but
he doesn’t care. All he cares about is the way Louis is kissing him in this
moment, as if their very lives depend on it. Harry feels like he just got his
life back because of Louis. Harry almost breaks the kiss to tell Louis how
he feels, but instead he just delves his tongue deeper into Louis’ mouth,
tasting him on his lips. He feels Louis’ small hands come up to his chest,
pushing at his jacket until it falls down his shoulders. Harry throws it on to
the floor, not really caring where it lands.
“Harry I want you to understand how beautiful you are,” Louis whispers
against his lips, breaking the kiss just enough to let the words flow out of
him. Harry has never really felt beautiful, not since that night, but with
Louis, maybe it’s possible. Louis certainly has given him confidence in
everything else, so why would this be any different? Harry is still having a
difficult time looking at Louis, afraid that when he does, the words he so
desperately wants to say will fall from his lips and ruin everything. He
keeps his eyes trained on Louis’ chest, his own t-shirt looking back at him.
“I love your curly hair. In the sunlight, it has the most delicious shade of
caramel streaking throughout. I also love that you seem to be letting it grow
out. It will be beautiful any length, but I used to think I wouldn’t like long
hair on men. I was wrong though because the longer it gets, the more I love
it,” Louis says, running his fingers through Harry’s styled hair. Harry,
honestly, didn’t think anyone had noticed the fact that he had been letting it
grow out all year. He had gone for the occasional trim, but the length was
still there. He wasn’t entirely sold on idea of letting it grow out, but with
Louis’ words, he feels the confidence to do it.
“Your eyes are the most interesting shade of green I’ve ever seen. Every
now and again, they have specks of gold in them that make them look blue,
but they are green. Your dark eyelashes around them, making them appear
even moreso. I know you hate this town and secluded area it is in, but they
will forever remind me of the most beautiful woods on a spring day when
the trees are just blooming again. When you see the first hint of color after a
long winter, like the day I asked you to prom. They are breathtaking.” Louis
emphasizes his statement by leaning to place a feather light kiss on each of
Harry’s eyelids, Harry instinctively closing his eyes for him to do so. When
he opens them again, Louis is looking at him intently, like he wants to say
more. Harry has a response on the tip of his tongue, but Louis puts one
finger on his lips to silence him.
“Your lips, Haz. Fuck. Their natural color is just obscene, but when you
wear your black lips stick, I think I may actually die. From the moment I
met you, all I could do was picture what your red lips would look like
wrapped around my dick. They are so full and perfect. Perfect for kissing.”
Louis leans in, placing a wet kiss on Harry’s lips. “Sucking,” Louis
mummers, barely breaking their kiss to say the word before he pulls Harry’s
bottom lip between his own, sucking on the plump skin. “Biting.” Louis
somehow manages to say the word with Harry’s lip still between his teeth
as he bites down, prompting Harry to moan.
“Lou,” Harry whines after Louis releases his lips, his cock beginning to stir
in his too tight jeans. He doesn’t know what he wants right now, he just
knows that he feels open and vulnerable. Louis is filling a void left in him
that he didn’t even realize was there. The walls around his heart are laying
in a heap on the cold ground because of Louis.
“The way your lips form around words, is so perfect. Your voice. Fuck,
Harry your voice. You have no idea what it does to me. It’s deeper than the
fucking ocean, and I swear to God, I would drown in it if I could. When I
heard you sing on the first day of school, I thought I was going to have an
orgasm right then and there. Every time you speak, I get shivers down my
spine. You have no idea the things it does to me when you’re aroused. It
sounds like you have swallowed a fist full of gravel, the words traveling
over the harsh substance before they even reach your fuckable lips.” Louis
shivers with his words, and Harry had no fucking idea. He is hard now.
Painfully so, but Louis continues as if he isn’t rocking Harry’s entire world.
“If there is a God, he carved your jawline from a fucking diamond. It’s so
sharp, I always fear cupping it will cut me, but it is a risk I am willing to
take.” Louis’ words are slow and measured, like honey dripping from his
firm lips. Harry feels like he is under a spell, but he doesn’t miss the ‘if
there is a God’ comment. Louis uses one small hand to cup Harry’s jaw,
running his finger over his lips, still wet with Louis’ spit. Harry blinks at
him slowly, completely unsure of how to process what Louis is saying.
“Your hands,” Louis starts, running his hand down the length of Harry’s
neck and arm to his own hand. He holds it up, kissing each ring before he
looks into Harry’s eyes again. “They are so fucking big. Your fingers are so
long, a bottom’s dream really. I’ve never met a guy who could pull off rings
quite the way you do, but they were made to be on your fingers. I love the
coolness of them when you sink your them deep inside of me, the way the
pull and stretch at my rim just enough to drive me crazy. I want to travel the
veins on your hand with my tongue, see if they lead me to the Holy Grail. I
think they might.” Louis doesn’t chuckles with his joke, instead he traces a
pointed tongue along every vein in Harry’s left hand, then down his middle
finger, finally sucking the digit into his mouth, swirling his tongue. Harry
groans, his cock impossibly hard and throbbing with each erratic beat of his
heart.
“Louis. Please,” Harry begs, even though he doesn't know what he is

begging for. He wants Louis. He wants him in every way. Harry hasn’t
allowed himself to want someone like this since Logan. He felt stupid after
that, and it was easier to block off his heart than to risk getting hurt again.
Harry wants Louis, though. He wants him as a friend. He wants him as a
boyfriend. He wants his fucking heart. Louis already has his. That thought
should scare Harry, but it doesn’t. He gave it to him a long time ago. He
was just too caught up in his past mistakes to admit it or even acknowledge
it, but Louis has his heart. He hopes Louis doesn’t break it because he
doesn’t know where he would be if that happened.
“Shh, baby, I’m not finished. Can I take this off?” Louis asks, looking down
at Harry’s shirt, small fingers fiddling with the buttons. Harry gulps,
knowing that he doesn't have his bracelets on. The only thing covering his
self inflicted scars is the silky fabric of his shirt. Louis knows this. That’s
why he asked. He is asking, in his own way, to see Harry’s scars. Is Harry
ready for that? No one has seen them, not even Niall. He has kept them
covered since the day they bandaged them in the hospital. He knows that if
he were to say ‘no’ or ask to go to the bathroom to put his bracelets on first,
Louis wouldn’t mind, but he kind of wants to allow him to see. He already
feels bare, may as well show Louis everything.
“Yeah,” Harry answers after a few moments, voice coming out hoarse. The
tenderness of the moment does nothing for his hard on though, still raging
within the confinement of his jeans, begging to be free. Louis smiles at him,
then starts undoing the black buttons on his shirt with small nimble fingers.
Once the shirt is unbuttoned, Louis doesn't go to remove it. He just pushes
his hands under the fabric, the coolness of his skin coming in contact with
Harry’s bare chest.
“Your body, Harry, is so lovely. It’s so long and lean. Perfect really. I love
everything about it. Your broad shoulders...” Louis traces Harry’s shoulders,
hands going under his shirt to run his blunt fingernails down the expanse of
his back, making Harry’s breath stutter. “Are made to hang on to while you
fuck me, or I fuck you. Whichever you prefer.” Louis’s voice is high and
raspy, taking on the needy quality that Harry knows so well. He uses his
fingernails to dig into Harry’s back, pulling their lips together once again.
There are no pretenses of chastity as Louis’ tongue delves into Harry’s
mouth.
“I find that I want to see it peppered in tattoos. I don’t know If I have ever
admitted it outloud, Harry, but I love the way your tattoo looks on you. I
love the dark ink on your alabaster skin. I wouldn’t care if you beautiful
body was covered in them. I would trace every single one of them with my
tongue, then my come, then my tongue again.” Harry shivers, the
anticipation of the moment falling over his body like a fever as Louis’
hands explore the expanse of his chest, grazing over his upper nipples. It
almost feels as though Louis is worshiping him, and Harry feels adored and
loved . Harry has never felt so loved.
“I know it’s weird, but I find your four nipples so damn endearing. Please
never get the two bottom ones removed. More to play with. More to
tweak,” Louis says, pressing a blunt nail over the buds, prompting Harry to
moan again, his dry, tight hole clenching around nothing. Harry’s body is
responding to the words flowing from Louis’ mouth. He doesn't know if he
believes any of it, but he wants to. He wants to believe that Louis finds him
sexy. Louis has said as much before, but it’s just always been difficult with
the words Logan had said to him, almost seared into his brain.
“Your love handles turn me on so much. I just can’t stop myself from
thinking about what it would be like to grab them while I fuck you from
behind, using them as leverage.” Louis emphasizes his words by squeezing
the little bit of fat on Harry’s hips. Harry had always hated them, but now
he is picturing Louis doing exactly that. Would he leave marks in his skin
that Harry could see for days in the shape of his small fingers? Harry hopes
so. Harry loves being marked by Louis. Claimed by him.
“Please. Lou. Need you,” Harry murmurs, but Louis doesn’t seems to be
done. He takes off his jacket, throwing it on the floor alongside Harry’s.
Harry watches it float down, laying with his, almost seeming to match it.
Louis looks down at his shirt, then back at Harry with a small smile. He is
so beautiful, it hurts. Harry should tell him that more, but he is at a loss for
words. He feels like he has bared his soul tonight, and he doesn’t know how
much more he can handle. He does need Louis, though. He needs him like a
flower needs the sun. The sun is all a flower really needs to bloom, along
with a bit of water.
“I know, love. Did you notice I was wearing your shirt?” He asks,
surprising Harry with the question. Harry blinks slowly a few times,
focusing on Louis’ shirt before he nods in response. He definitely noticed it.
It took him a while to figure it out, but it is the shirt Harry was wearing on
Valentine’s day. He had forgotten about it. “Yeah. I had to wash it ‘cause it
had come on it, but it still smells like you. I wanted to wear it because you
are the person I was going to prom with, not Willow. I hope people
recognized it. The shirt belongs to you. I belong to you.” Louis’ blue eyes
are so honest, Harry forgets to breathe. Louis removes the shirt then,
throwing it onto the floor with the rest of their discarded clothing.
Harry freezes when Louis’ hands come up to his chest again, threading
under the fabric of his shirt. His heart is racing as Louis slowly pushes the
shirt down his arms, pulling it off completely once it finally lands on the
bed under them. His eyes don’t immediately travel to Harry’s scars, though.
Harry feels like his throat is closing off with emotion when Louis keeps eye
contact, grabs his arm, and brings it up to his lips. He glances down, and
Harry flinches. Louis can see them. He can see the ugly white and red scars
that litter his arm. Louis doesn’t react though, he just bows his head and
begins kissing each one of them.
“You are fucking perfect to me, Harry. So perfect. Your scars and all. Thank
you for showing them to me. Thank you for sharing this part of yourself
with me. I know I can’t take back what happened to you, but you should
never be ashamed of these. These show that you survived. Against
everything that Logan and his friends did to you. You survived. God didn’t
allow you to live. You did. You won. Every single time you take a breath, it
represents your victory over Logan and the preacher. You are pure, Harry.
So pure. I am so fucking thankful that you gave me a chance. You changed
me. I want to kiss you scars every day to remind you that they are the most
beautiful thing about you because they show your strength. I…” Louis
doesn't finish the sentence, instead he kisses Harry’s arm one last time, right
over the most recent mark Harry carved, then cups Harry’s cheek, sealing
their lips together.
The kiss is gentle, similar to Harry’s fragile heart at the moment. Maybe
Louis can sense that. Harry can feel the tear travel down his cheek, into
their open mouths. He can taste the saltiness mixed with their spit as they
continue to exchange kisses. His throat is burning with emotion, Louis
words seeping into his skin where they will remain for eternity. He thought
Louis would flinch or be disguised by the marks, but he isn’t. No. He
fucking kissed them, then he told Harry he was strong even though Harry
has never felt weaker. He feels like his body has been beaten all over again,
mentally exhausted from reliving the trauma of that night, but Louis has
somehow healed him. Louis made him whole again, and that thought makes
Harry cry harder.
“Don’t cry, love,” Louis says, breaking their kiss to wipe Harry’s tears with
his thumbs. He looks confused and worried, as if he thinks that he may have
pushed Harry too far, but it is the opposite really. Harry feels like a weight
has been lifted off his damned soul, allowing it to float freely again. He
doesn't even know if he believes in the concept of a soul, but it surly feels
like he has shown Louis his. Louis didn’t try to diminish it. He took it in his
dainty hands and polished it, so that it could shine once more. Harry’s chest
aches. He wants to tell Louis how he feels, he just can’t say it outloud.
Maybe he will give his poem to him, let him read it through his words
instead of hear it.
“Louis, just kiss me,” Harry demands, fisting the soft hair at the nape of his
neck to pull them back together, where they belong. Harry vows that
nothing will separate them, not even the Gods above that don’t even exist.
Nothing. Harry belongs to Louis, and Louis belongs to Harry. He never
wants to let him go. He doesn't even think he could. He loves him more
than words can express, and he is looking forward to everything they are
going to do together, what the summer will bring. They will be going to
college together. They can be free. Harry is quick to deepen this kiss this
time, tongue delving and teeth clacking together, as they both moan into it.
Harry’s somewhat flagging erection is back with a vengeance, straining
against his underwear, the zipper from his undone jeans digging into his
balls painfully. Not enough to stop him, though.
He lays back on the bed, pulling Louis with him. Louis’ body is warm and
familiar, everything Harry could ever want. The pants and underwear on
both boys are discarded next, thrown to the wayside along with Harry’s
fears. He isn’t scared of Louis anymore. He isn’t scared of what they are.
He wants to make it official. Maybe tomorrow, after graduation and after
Louis has read the poem, they can talk about it. This is so much more than
fuck buddies. Harry loves him and not calling him his boyfriend just seems
wrong.
Louis smiles down at Harry as he sits back on his haunches, rubbing

Harry’s thighs while doing so, admiring his body. Harry almost wants to
squirm under his gaze, but he doesn't. He feels hot all over. He hasn’t been
completely bare in front of another person in over six years. He’s always
had at least his bracelet on. His skin feels exposed and raw, but Louis is like
a balm, helping him heal. Louis then grabs his love handles, flipping Harry
over easily. Harry goes, not even questioning it, then gets on his knees like
Louis wants him to do.
“Wanna taste you again,” Louis murmurs, then a moment later Harry feels a
wet tongue on his hole. He almost pulls away from the sensation even
though he was expecting it. He has only been rimmed once, on his birthday,
but he could never forget it. Louis doesn’t waste any time licking him open,
spreading his cheeks to do so. Harry moans into the pillow, more tears
flowing out from his eyes formed by the overwhelming events of the night.
He doesn't regret it though.
“Right there, Lou. Fuck. That feels so good. Please. Please keep doing
that,” Harry begs, hands coming up to fist his pillows, scrambling for some
sort of purchase as arousal courses through him. Louis hasn’t touched his
cock though, which is probably by design, but that doesn’t stop Harry’s
frustration. He wants to be touched. He knows Louis has a finger in him
already, and Harry wants more. He wants to feel Louis completely. He feels
as though he is choking on that need when Louis adds a second finger,
licking into him.
“Oh gods. Fuck. Louis. Please. Need it,” Harry screams, the sounds muffled
by the wet pillow below his cheek. He feels more exposed than he ever has
before. Sharing his story with Louis, showing him his poetry then scars, and
now bent over in front of him for Louis to do with him as he wishes. He
realizes he would let him. He would let Louis do whatever he wants to him
because Harry fucking trusts him. He trusts him with everything he has, and
he can’t believe he was too blind to see it before. Louis deserves his trust.
He has worked for it, and Harry is giving it to him. His heart and his trust in
one fucked up package, held together by glue and prayer. One of the two,
doesn’t even work. It isn’t much, but it is all Harry has.
“What do you need, love?” Louis asks, the question ghosting over Harry’s
hole. Harry shivers. He can feel his limbs shaking, twitching with his need
to come. He thinks about it, though. What does he need? He needs Louis.
He needs to feel him in a way he never has before. He already feels
connected in some indestructible way, so he wants to solidify that bond. It is
as though he can feel Louis’ heartbeat inside of his own, but just seems like
they are running out of time. He hopes that when Louis reads his poem, that
he doesn’t run. Harry doesn’t think he will, but loving a man and fucking a
man are two very different things. Louis’ faith doesn’t allow it, but then
again, he isn’t sure what Louis’ faith is anymore.
__________
“I want you to fuck me, Lou. Please. I need it. I need you inside me,” Harry
says, his voice almost sounding frantic muffled by the pillow. His back is
tense, each muscle flexing enticingly. It won’t take much more to open
Harry up, just another finger to get him really ready and some lube of
course. Harry has been through enough. Louis never wants to hurt him.
Louis knows he has been crying, but Harry ensured him that they weren’t
bad tears. Louis has been crying too, and he wants to cry now.
“Shh. Baby. Okay. Let me get the lube and a condom,” Louis soothes,
reaching over to Harry’s beside table where he knows Harry keeps the
items, but Harry is shaking his head, his dark curls flying, a silent tear
traveling down his face. Louis feels heart broken. He has no idea how to
comfort Harry. Maybe he is doing exactly what Harry needs though since
Harry hasn’t protested any of the things they have done. His dick is hanging
hard and heavy between his spread legs, so Louis knows he is still enjoying
it. He just doesn’t understand why Harry is shaking his head so fiercely.
“Bare. I want you bare inside of me. Please. Need to feel you, Lou. I need
you to fill me up, make me feel whole,” Harry says, voice deep and
cracking with emotion. He looks vulnerable but sure of his words, and
Louis’ dick twitches at the thought. Louis understands. He only ever feels
truly complete with Harry. Louis still needs him to know that he doesn't
have to. That Louis would be perfectly fine fucking him with a barrier
separating them, even though his dick would beg to differ.
“Baby, are you sure? We don’t have to. I know we kind of discussed it, but
we never got tested or anything, even though I know I’m clean and so are
you,” Louis tells him, trying to put as much honesty to his voice as possible,
needing Harry to know that he isn’t obligated to do anything. He just has so
much love for the boy below him, he feels like his heart is going to surge
from his chest and attach itself to Harry’s. Harry turns around then, getting
on his knees to look Louis in the eyes, another tear trailing down his cheek
that Louis has the sudden desire to lick.
“Yes. I’m sure Louis. I wanna feel you. I want you to claim me in that way.
I trust you, Louis. I trust you with everything I have. My fucked up
memories. My broken existence. My fractured heart. My damned soul. I
trust you with all of it. I don’t know why you would want it, but I will give
it all to you. I trust you with it. With me.” Louis closes his eyes, allowing
the words to wash over him, cleansing his sins more than holy water ever
could. He should be worshipping Harry. Worshipping him in the bedroom
and all other walks of life because he knows Harry to be real. Harry trusts
him. For some reason, his admission feels more monumental than if Harry
were to say that he loves him. Loving is easy, but without trust, there is no
love at all.
“Okay, baby. Okay,” Louis soothes, wanting to say so much more, but the
lump in his throat won’t allow the words to be set free. He blinks back his
own tears as he kisses Harry again, tasting more saltiness on his tongue. He
moans when Harry bites his lip, the stinging sensation going straight to his
untouched dick. He is about to be bare inside of Harry. Holy fucking shit.
He has never done it without a condom. Has never even considered it
because something about it seems serious. As if no amount of praying could
ever forgive him of that particular sin. Louis, strangely enough, can’t find a
fuck to give right now. Harry is definitely his apple, and Louis has already
taken a bite. He has pretty much eaten the whole thing, addicted to his sin.
He grabs the lube, leaving the condom forgotten in the drawer then pushes
Harry so that he is laying on the bed, looking up at him with big green eyes,
his full, red, bottom lip held between his teeth. With shaking hands, Louis
squirts some of the lube onto three fingers. He traces Harry’s hole, listening
to him hiss in pleasure as he pushes two in, adding a third one only a few
moments later. He knows he isn’t going to last long at this rate, his dick
already throbbing. The idea of being bare inside Harry almost has him
coming untouched.
“I can just pull out before I come if you want me to,” Louis says, wanting
Harry to know that it is an option. He doesn't know if he could physically
do it, but he would certainly try if that is what Harry wants. His come
belongs in Harry, though. Louis has never been more sure of anything in his
entire life. He can’t wait until they can reverse this, and he can have Harry
coming in him. He shudders with the thought of Harry actually filling him
up. The white substance dripping out of him when he gets up. Holy shit.
Louis needs to stop, or he will come.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Lou. I don’t want you to pull out. I want you to fuck
me and come in me. I need it. I need to feel you,” Harry assures, long arms
coming up to grab onto Louis, pulling him down into a punishing kiss.
Louis is so shocked by the words, he doesn’t kiss back for a solid twenty
eight seconds. Once he starts kissing back, though, Louis can’t stop his hips
from pressing into Harry. He hisses when he feels Harry’s large hand on his
dick, lining Louis up with his entrance. Louis has to remind himself that
Harry has only done this once before, so he goes slow even though he wants
nothing more than to buck into Harry.
Harry is so hot around him, feeling as though it is melting the skin on his
dick off, but Louis doesn't care. He moans when he is completely inside
Harry, his walls gripping him like a vice. Louis has to bite his lips to keep
from toppling over the edge, Harry feeling entirely too good around him.
Louis places his hands on Harry’s broad chest, digging his fingers into his
pecs, needing something to hold on to even though he has already fallen,
not in the physical sense. He has fallen for Harry, hard. He didn’t even
notice until it was too late, like an angel that falls from grace. His innocent
obedience to God long gone, replaced by sin. A sin that Louis can’t seem to
care about because if loving Harry is a sin, then he may as well book a
place in Hell.
“Oh God. Move. Please. God. Move,” Harry whispers like a prayer, and
Louis almost thinks that Harry is referring to him as a God. The reality of it
is, though, that Harry is the God of this relationship, and Louis should
worship him. Louis does. He has prayed to Harry more in the past few
months than he has ever prayed to the God he thought he believed in. Harry
has answered those prayers time and time again. He has been on his knees
for Harry far more than he has been in prayer. Harry is real. He can see him.
He can hear him. He can feel him. He can definitely feel him, so yes, Louis
worships him.
“It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you. I’m never letting you go,” Louis tells him,
and he means it. God himself will have to pry Harry from his cold dead
hands because Louis will never surrender what they have. At this point,
God could reveal himself to Louis and forbid him to love Harry, and Louis
would just tell him to fuck off. Louis doesn’t even think he believes in God
anymore. He believes in this. Being inside Harry. Moving in him. Feeling
every scrape of his walls around him as they both get closer to their
releases. This is real . This is a true religious experience.
“Never?” Harry asks, his voice thick with emotion and arousal. He clutches
onto Louis like a lifeline, digging blunt nails into Louis’ skin as Louis
continues to keep his movements slow, measured, and deep inside Harry.
He feels like his skin is burning everywhere Harry touches, cleansing his
soul in some kind of eternal fire that doesn’t hurt. Tears are streaking down
Harry’s red cheeks, his question reflecting in his eyes, silently begging
Louis for an answer that Louis knows he will always give.
“Never. The end of eternity couldn’t force me to,” Louis promises, as he

feels Harry’s body twitch around him. He is shocked to see his own tears
drop on to Harry’s beautiful tear stained face. He didn’t even know he was
crying, but he is. Everything just feels like it is too much, and the only way
he can express that is by crying. He loves this boy he is inside of. He loves
him more than he has ever loved anyone, God included. There is nothing
wrong with their love. It is not an abomination or some unholy force. It is
just love. A love Louis feels so deeply, he think he may burst with it. It’s
overwhelming and real, making his heart ache with fullness and his
stomach jump.
“Louis. Please. I’m close. Please. Need to feel you. Fill me up, Lou. Make
me yours. Please. I-I…” Louis has no idea what Harry was about to say
because he cuts off his words with a fierce kiss, needing to express his
overwhelming desire to claim Harry in every way. To claim the boy in his
arms in front of the school, his parents, and God himself. He wants
everyone real and make believe to know that he loves Harry. Harry is his
and always will be. Instead, he kisses him, all spit, tongue and teeth. He
runs his hand down Harry’s left arm, feeling the scars under his fingers
before he brings Harry’s hand to his heart. He places his own hand on
Harry’s chest, and he hopes that Harry knows what he is saying. What he
can’t say out loud just yet.
“Gonna come, baby. Shit. Gonna fill you up with it, --ah-- just like you
want. You’re already mine. I want everyone to know it. Fuck. Everyone
real. You’re mine. Always. I’m so close, Harry. Come with me. Please.
Gonna fill you up so good,” Louis moans, and something he said pushes
Harry over the edge because Harry’s body is gripping him like a vice,
squeezing the come from his dick. He can feel the stickiness of Harry’s
release coating their stomachs. Louis’ hips stutter a moment later, lips
coming down to find Harry as they both moan with their orgasms, tasting
the salty tears on each other’s lips between sharp breaths. Louis eyes are
open wide, while he practically screams into Harry’s parted lips as spurt
after spurt of his come is released into his waiting heat, nothing separating
them. Harry moans again, almost like he can feel it. Louis wonders if he can
because it feels like Louis’ existence has shifted. As if he is seeing the
world in it’s true form for the first time without the veil of religion.
Louis continues to kiss Harry as they both come down from their orgasms,
each one lazier and more relaxed than the last. He doesn't want to pull out
yet, even though he knows they are both over sensitive. He doesn't want his
come to ever leave Harry’s body. He wants to feel Harry’s come in his own.
With one last kiss and a sigh, Louis pulls out, both boys hissing at the
sensation. He looks down at Harry who his smiling up at him with glassy
eyes. “Wanna shower?” Louis asks, almost regretting the question. He
doesn't want to wash away the night. He doesn't want the memories to float
down the drain with the water, but they are both sticky with sweat, come,
and tears. They need a shower.
Harry nods his head, and Louis helps him up, watching his own come drip
out of Harry’s stretched hole and down the inside of his thigh, prompting
Louis’ spent dick to twitch. He thought he could actually regret it after the
heat of the moment, but he doesn’t. He doesn't regret fucking Harry and
coming in him. He doesn't give a fuck if it means he will never be forgiven
by an arbitrary God. A God that would damn him for loving someone and
for being loved back by him. Harry’s right. The concepts of God and the
Bible are just a products of their time. Harry is a good person without God.
Louis could be, too. He takes a deep breath, coming to terms with his
realization as he follows Harry from his room into the the bathroom.
“Do you regret it?” Harry asks once they have stepped into the shower, hot
water running down their bodies. It’s creepy when Harry does that. Almost
as if he knows what Louis is thinking. He can read Louis like a book, and
Louis is startled when he recognizes that he can also read Harry now. At the
start of the school year, Harry fascinated him because Louis couldn’t read
him. Harry speaks with non verbal cues all the time, they are just harder to
pick up on, but they are there. Louis knows them now. He can read between
Harry’s words in the way he moves his body. Harry is more interesting than
any book he has ever read, Bible included.
“No. Not at all,” Louis responds, biting his tongue before he can tell Harry
his thoughts on God. Now is not the time for an existential crisis. In this
moment, he wants to wash Harry, so he does. He shampoos Harry’s curls
first, washing away the gel and hairspray Harry had holding his look
together. Louis forgets the bath sponge and just uses his hands to wash
Harry’s body, listening to him hiss when Louis traces around his stretched
hole, hating the idea of washing away his come. It doesn't change the fact
that he did come in him. It doesn't erase what they did, no amount of water,
holy or otherwise, could expunge their act. Louis doesn't even want to. He
doesn't have any desire to fall to his knees and pray for forgiveness and beg
for his damned soul. He never realized that his tower of faith was actually a
cage until it crumbled around him, and suddenly he was free. Harry freed
him.
“Louis. I…” Harry pauses, seemingly unsure of what he wants to say, his
brows knitted together in an adorable pout. “I want to tell you that I-I like
you a lot. I have a poem that I wrote for you. I want to give it to you in the
morning. Will you promise not to read it until you get home? We can talk
about it after graduation, but I don’t want to be around when you read it.
Please.” Harry’s eyes are wide, and for some reason Louis doesn't think that
Harry wanted to use the word ‘like’, but that is the word he choose to use
for now, and that’s okay. He will give Harry all the time he needs.
“Of course, love. I promise. I won’t read it until I get home. It’s not... bad or
anything? Right?” Louis asks, swallowing down his fear. He doesn’t think it
would be bad. He thinks he and Harry are on the same page, but he can’t
help thinking the worst. To distract himself, he begins washing his own
body, starting with his hair, his mind still going through the millions of
scenarios that Harry’s poem could be about.
“I don’t think so. It’s just that-- well, it’s just hard for me to share, so I don’t
want to be around when you read it. I know that’s weird, but I never
intended for you to read it begin with,” Harry responds, big hands coming
to Louis’ body, beginning to lather him up with the body wash he poured
into his hands. If Harry’s washing him, it can’t be that bad right. Harry
doesn’t seem upset or anything. In fact, he seems happy. He is humming
and smiling, his left dimple barley popping has he moves his head to the
sound of whatever song is playing in his mind.
“Okay, baby, but you don’t have to show me if you don’t want,” Louis tells
him, deciding that he wants Harry to know that. If Harry never intended for
him to see it, then what changed between now and when he was reading
from Harry’s book of poems an hour ago? Louis certainly feels like
everything changed tonight. It’s almost like yesterday was some far off
distant land that only existed in movies, like he was watching his past from
outside his body. Everything feels real now. Raw and exposed. As if Harry
peeled back a veil, lifting the fog of Louis’ reality. Now he sees the world.
Now he can live in the world without chains.
“I want to,” Harry responds easily, turning off the water and stepping out,
handing Louis a towel. They are silent as they dry off, both wanting to
voice their feelings but allowing fear to stop them. Louis dries off quickly,
the emotions and events of the night finally taking their toll on his body,
making his limbs feel heavy with exhaustion. He silently takes Harry’s
hand, leading him back into the bedroom where he pulls the comforter
down the bed. He turns off the light then pulls Harry down with him,
spooning him from behind as he places his hand over Harry’s heart. He
loves how it beats now, knowing how close Harry had come to stopping it
forever.
“Thank you, Harry, for opening up to me. For sharing your story with me. I
know I’ve already said that, but I need to say it again. I know how hard it
must have been for you, and I can’t imagine what you went through. You
didn’t deserve any of that, and I admire you for surviving. You must have
felt so lost in that moment, so maybe I can be your light because you should
never feel so alone, again. You’re not alone,” Louis says, still not
completely expressing everything he wants to, but he hopes it’s enough for
now. He hopes that maybe Harry is able to read between his words and see
the truth.
“Thank you for listening. I’m glad I did. Good night, and Louis, I- I trust
you,” Harry responds, and that is almost better than saying he loves him. It
feels the same because Louis’ heart just jumped into his throat at the words.
He swallows around it, trying to keep his breathing normal even though he
can feel the tear fall down his cheek, dropping onto Harry’s already wet
hair. He kisses Harry on the temple, and keeps his hand over his heart,
allowing the feeling to lull him to sleep. Tomorrow. He will tell him
tomorrow.
Chapter End Notes
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EATING?
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Golden
Chapter Summary
Buckle up and, darling, just hold on.

Chapter Notes
Alright guys... I'm scared. While reading this remember, if you kill me,
I can't post the rest.

with the emotions/theme of the chapter. This song, however, is not on
Spoitfy, but you can listen to it here on Youtube. I will put The God
that Failed by Metallica on Spotify.
I used to believe in God, I used to believe in truth

I used to believe your love, I used to believe in you
You made me believe I'm dumb, that I'm nothing without you
Now I know that you were wrong, I used to believe in you- Halestorm
Louis can’t stop the smile that is blooming on his face as he walks back to
the car, the letter in his back pocket feeling as though it is burning a hole in
it. He promised Harry he wouldn’t read it until he got home, so that is what
he intends to do. A nervous jolt goes through his system at the prospect of
going back to his house. He has been out all night. In fact, it is now mid
morning. Harry cooked him breakfast when they woke up, and Louis has
been pointedly ignoring his phone. He knows he probably has about a
million missed calls and messages from his mom and Mark, but just
thinking about them gives him anxiety. He was supposed to be home around
midnight, but Louis just didn’t care. He has no idea what he is going to tell
them when he gets home, but he will need to think of something.
His morning was so lovely. He woke up with Harry wrapped in his arms,
still sans bracelets. Louis spent a handful of precious moments just
admiring him in the early morning sunlight and tracing the scars marring
his skin while watching his body twitch as it slowly awoke, eyes moving
behind his dark eyelashes. Louis hopes he was having a wonderful dream
because that is what Harry deserves. He hopes Harry never has to relive that
nightmare. Everything that happened last night still seems surreal, the
unspoken words hanging between them like summer clothes hanging in the
closet during the coldest months of the year, but summer is coming.
After Harry woke up with a bright dimpled smile, they cuddled for a few
moments then Harry went down stairs, insisting on making them breakfast,
telling Louis he could borrow some of his clothes. Louis found a pair of
black skinny jeans and slipped them on. He had to roll up the too long legs,
exposing his ankles. He found his shirt from last night, even though it is
Harry’s shirt, and put that on as well, feeling nice in Harry’s slightly
oversized clothes. Louis was surprised to find that Harry is a really good
cook, making biscuits and sausage gravy. They ate at the table like a proper
couple, and it almost seemed quixotic, as if Louis was moving through a
dream. It’s real though. Harry shared his story and showed him his scars.
They cried together, then made love. It was all real, and Louis almost cries
just thinking about it, the stabbing sensation in his chest burning now with
emotion as he pulls into the driveway of his parents’ home.
He turns off the ignition, letting silence flow, allowing his mind to go back
to his goodbye to Harry, promising to see him later that day at graduation.
Harry smiled in response, kissing Louis on the lips and reminding him to
read the poem before they meet up at the ceremony. Louis couldn’t forget to
do that, though. He is probably going to try to sneak to his room to read it
as soon as he can. He hasn’t stopped thinking about it since Harry gave it to
him with a shaky hand. Louis almost wishes he could have just stayed with
Harry in their little bubble of happiness forever, but the real world was
calling both their names. Their bubble bursting with a loud almost audible
pop. Gemma, Anne and Robin were due back at Harry’s house at any
moment, and Louis couldn’t put off the inevitable forever. He would have
to face his parents.
The air in the car is thick with trepidation. Louis feels like he can barely
breathe, anxiety now clawing his stomach like some wild animal caught in a
cage, desperately wanting to get free. He feels sick, the delicious breakfast
Harry had cooked sitting in his stomach like a rock. He tries to take a few
deep breaths to steady his racing heart as he looks at the house, gripping the
steering wheel to the point where he feels like the bones in his hands are
going to crack from the pressure. He slowly releases it, then wipes his
sweaty palms on Harry’s jeans. With one last deep breath, he gets out of the
car and heads to the door.
He opens it quietly, not seeing anyone in the living room at all. He releases
a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding as he silently makes his way up
the stairs, leaving his shoes on the foyer like always. He feels like he can
breathe again when the door to his room is firmly shut. He wastes no time
pulling out the paper Harry had given to him, opening to find ‘The Ark’
written in bold script lettering at the top of the page. It’s not shocking that
the title of Harry’s poem already has underlying religious connotations. He
is referring to Noah’s Ark, and Louis’ interest is peaked, especially given
their conversation about that topic a few months prior.
“Where the hell have you been, Louis William Tomlinson, and what are you
wearing?” A cold chill goes down Louis’ spine at the words, his whole
body beginning to tremble in reaction. He isn’t sure if it is from the
adrenaline of hearing Mark’s voice or the cold dread that is currently
gripping his throat like a demon hand, cutting off any air flow to and from
his lungs. Before he gets to read a word of the poem, his eyes snap up to
find Mark already in his room, looking at him with an unmatched menace
in his eyes. Jay is standing behind him, her posture closed off and nervous,
the air around them dense with tension.
“With Willow,” Louis responds ignoring the second question. The lie tastes
like battery acid on his tongue, sealing it to the roof of his mouth. He tries
to swallow, but he is lacking saliva so he has to deal with the sand that has
recently taken up residence in his throat. It’s not like he can breathe anyway
with the way Mark is looking at him. He knows the lie isn’t convincing, but
he hopes that maybe Mark will take it as Louis ‘sowing his wild oats’ or
whatever the saying was.
“Don’t lie to us, young man. We know you weren’t with Willow. Her mom
said she got home with her friend around midnight, without you. Don’t even
bother trying to say you were with Liam because I talked to his mother
when you didn’t answer your phone for the fifth time this morning. She said
you weren’t at their house either, so let’s try this one more time. Where
were you all night?” Mark spits, venom lacing each syllable, making his
veins fill with icy poison and his heart stop all together. Mark’s eyes are
narrowed, and he is watching Louis as if he is calculating his next move.
Louis definitely feels like he is going to be sick, but he needs to try to work
this out, smooth things over.
“Fine. I was with Harry,” Louis says, the truth falling of his lips with the
last breath he has. He feels slightly better afterwards though, as if the words
dispelled some of Mark’s poison, making him feel just a bit lighter,
however, Mark’s eyes are even more terrifying than they were moments
ago. Louis wonders what the fuck he said because they have met Harry. It’s
not like he was with some random fucking stranger. He was with Harry.
They didn’t know what Harry was to him, but it couldn’t be that bad, could
it?
“I don’t want you hanging out with him anymore. In fact, I forbid it,” Mark
responds, voice firm and unwavering, but Louis can feel his own temper
flaring. Mark can’t forbid Louis from having friends. Who the the hell does
he think he is? Louis’ limbs are now coming to life with a slow building
rage, no longer shaking in fear and anticipation. No, Louis now kind of
wants to strangle the fucker.
“What? Why?” Louis asks, outraged by the very idea of not seeing Harry
anymore without some sort of explanation. Mark can get fucked if he thinks
he is keeping Louis from Harry. No. Never. Louis would rather die than be
kept from Harry, and there is nothing that Mark will be able to do stop them
from being together.
“He is a bad influence on you. He wears dark clothes and those skinny jeans
which you are currently wearing. He even listens to that devil music. You
stay out late and skip school and lie about where you are. You’re not
hanging out with him anymore. Do you understand me?” Mark asks,
pointing his finger menacingly. Jay must have told Mark about Louis
skipping school. Fuck. Louis looks to his mom for some sort of support, but
she isn’t looking at him, instead choosing to stare at the back of Mark’s
head, like she doesn't want to make eye contact. Dread seeps into Louis’
bones.
“I’m 19. I can hang out with whoever I want,” Louis says, balling his hands
up into fists, feeling the paper in his grasp beginning to crumble. He had
almost forgotten about it. He doesn't even glance down, just loosens his
hold and crosses his arms over his chest, tucking the page beneath his arm,
keeping his stance strong. He isn’t going to let a bully like Mark dictate
who he spends time with. Maybe a few months ago, but not now. Louis is
tired of being afraid. He is tired to allowing others to control his every
move, imaginary or otherwise. He is just so damn tired of having to hide
what they have, and who he is.
“That little freak is not welcome in my house.” Louis narrows his eyes at
his step-father, the word ‘freak’ striking a cord with him after the story
Harry had told him last night. He attempts to stamp down the anger boiling
his his system, beginning to bubble over from it’s heating point. He tries to
take a few deep steadying breaths, but it does nothing to calm his fury.
“Don’t call him that,” Louis grits out through his teeth, still trying to keep
his temper in check, but it isn’t working. Not after what Harry told him last
night and everything he has been through at the hands of a close minded
bully. Louis wonders if Mark would have done the same thing as Logan
given the opportunity. Would he have beaten a young boy to a bloody pulp
simply because he was gay? The answer is yes. Mark would definitely be
the type to do that, and that only serves to stoke the fire in Louis’ veins. His
breathing is becoming shallow, hands balled into fists under his elbows, the
poor poem crinkling with his rage.
“You do not tell me what to do. You do not make the rules. You are
forgetting your place in this house. You fucking respect me. This is my
house and my rules. According to some of the people at church, that boy is
nothing but a filthy faggot. An abomination. He worships the devil, and
they saw you with him last night.” Mark is now pointing one meaty finger,
poking Louis’ chest as punctuation to his malicious words. His face is red,
his voice almost to the point of yelling, but not quite there. He is angry, and
Louis can’t find a fuck to give because his words only serve to make Louis
more irate. They are eerily similar to the words Logan used in his
description of Harry, and Louis feels like he wants to fucking choke
someone, specifically Mark. He sees red. How dare this useless excuse of a
human being and father say that about Harry? Then the last sentence sinks
in. Someone saw them together last night. A chill travels down Louis’
spine, doing nothing to calm the fire within him. What exactly did they see?
“Who saw us?” Louis asks, the words coming out on a breath even though
he is still furious over Mark’s description of Harry. He has to know, though.
He has to know what they saw, and who saw them. If he doesn’t, then he
can’t accurately build his next lie. He tries to stay calm, but he is too afraid
that Mark will say someone saw them holding hands, or worse kissing.
They weren’t exactly subtle last night.
“That is none of your damn business. I will not have some fucked up gay
child rapist under my roof around my young impressionable daughters. I
can’t believe you put your sisters in harm’s way like that. What the fuck is
wrong with you? He could have done anything to them…” Louis stops
listening after that, all the blood rushing to his ears in an instant. He has
never been so fucking mad in his life. He feels like his entire body is going
to catch fire and let the world burn with him. He wants it to. He hates Mark.
Hates him with every fiber of his being.
“Harry isn’t a fucking child rapist! He’s gay! He isn’t hurting anyone. He
would never hurt the girls, and he would never hurt me. You’re wrong and
small minded,” Louis responds, keeping his tone even despite the fact that
his entire body is shaking with rage, the paper quaking under his arm
sounds like wood crackling in a fire. He is proud of his reply, knowing that
Harry would have probably said something similar.
“You will watch your mouth with me, or I will back hand it. How long have
you known? How long have you been letting the likes of him come into our
home and be around your sisters when you know he is an abomination? He
hurts people just by existing and spreading his disgusting fucking lifestyle
around, being near our nation's youth. Teaching him that what he does is
okay, when it’s not. It’s against nature and the Bible.” With each venomous
word, a bit of spit from Mark’s shouting mouth flies out and lands on Louis’
face. Louis doesn't flinch. He is surprised the dampness doesn’t evaporate
from his skin immediately with a harsh ‘hiss’ because Louis is so heated.
His temper is back with a vengeance, his skin feeling white hot with it. He
suddenly understands one of Harry’s poems. The one he called Hell’s
Paradise because the ferocity in Louis is licking him like a flame on his
skin, scorching him. He would gladly sit back and watch the world burn,
watch Mark pay for his sins. Mark has the audacity to say those things
about Harry when his hands aren’t even close to being clean. This is what
Mark thinks of Harry? This is what Mark thinks of him? He thinks him to
be some kind of child molester simply because he’s… he’s…
“I’m gay.” The words leave Louis’ lips, cracking the palpable tension in the
room like a whip. He can’t believe he said it outloud. To his parent’s no
less. Jay’s mouth is hung open in shock, seeming as though she is looking at
Louis for the first time. Mark, though, Mark looks livid. His face is now
resembling a tomato, the blue vein in his forehead popping out of his skin
like a timer in a turkey on Thanksgiving when it is done. Louis swallows,
and continues, knowing that if he doesn't do this now, he may not ever do it.
“Harry is my boyfriend. I love him,” Louis confesses, his traitorous voice
fracturing with the words, fear taking root in his chest once more,
burrowing down deep and blooming quickly. It is somewhat a lie. Harry
isn’t his boyfriend, but Louis plans to change that in a matter of hours.
“What?!?” Mark yells, the word ricocheting off the walls of Louis’ room
like a bullet shot from a gun. Louis doesn't flinch this time, tensing his body
for a blow that doesn’t come. Mark does look like a snake getting ready to
strike, though, his entire body tense and poised. If he hits Louis, it’s over.
Louis is done. He will hit back. While Mark has extensive military training,
he is old and out of shape. Louis thinks he would be fast enough to dodge
him.
“You heard me! I’m gay. Your perfect little church boy son is fucking gay. I
love a man. I love Harry. I am gay, and I love Harry!” Louis is screaming
now, his voice coming out high and sharp as his hands balls into fist by his
sides. He is breathing heavily, somehow feeling as though a weight has
been lifted off his chest with the outburst. Holy shit. His parents know. His
parents know his biggest secret. He blinks, shocked to feel a tear slip down
his face. He wipes it away quickly with a trembling hand, not wanting Mark
to see weakness.
“No. You’re not gay. It’s against the Bible! It’s against God! It is unholy
and disgusting. Do you want to go against God? Do you really want to burn
in the eternal fires of hell because of a choice ? No son of mine is gay. The
Devil has you,” Mark responds, a hysteric quality to his voice while his
eyes are on the verge of crazy, wide and darting around, as if he is scared
someone heard Louis’ outburst. The words sound hauntingly similar to
what the preacher said to Harry while he was in the hospital after he tried to
commit suicide. Something in Louis snaps then. Suddenly a calm coolness
washes over him, the blood in his veins going from white hot to icy in a
instant, like cold water baptizing his skin.
“Well, Mark, you’re in luck because I’m not your fucking son. The Bible is
fucking bullshit. It was written by random men thousands of years ago as a
way to control the masses. It is a product of its time. God isn’t real. There is
no fucking God, and I will no longer live my life by some imaginary being
in the sky who would damn me for who I am. The Lord is your shepherd,
but I refuse to be a fucking sheep. Fuck you. Fuck your religion. The Devil
hasn’t gotten in me, Harry has.” Louis says the last sentence with a smirk,
the words cold and calculated to cut deep. He is still breathing heavily, but
he feels so much better, as if he has emerged from water and is able to
breathe for the first time.
“What’s in your hand?” Mark asks, and Louis is surprised by the question,
looking down at the paper then back at Mark, panic inundating his body
once more, chillbumps blossoming on his pores. Mark still looks furious,
despite the calmness of his question. His mouth is set in a harsh line, jaw
clenched on the words. Louis can’t believe he just said that to Mark. He
feels like he is in a nightmare that he is bound to wake up from, finding
Harry still sound asleep beside him, but this is real. His fury and fear are
real.
“None of your damn business,” Louis responds, repeating the words Mark
had said to him previously in their conversation. That seems to be the
wrong thing to say because if looks could kill, Louis would be fucking dead
right now. Laser beams are practically shooting from Mark’s eyes, nostrils
flaring. Louis flinches when Mark lunges. “What the fuck?” Louis cries in
outrage after Mark snaps the poem out of Louis’ grasp. Louis watches in
horror as Mark’s beady eyes fly over the page, reading the words meant for
Louis before Louis has even gotten the chance to. Louis feels like he is
going to be sick again. All he wanted was to read the words written on that
page. He was so close. A small part of him holds out hope that maybe what
is written isn’t what Louis thinks and that Mark will give it back to him.
“You disgust me,” Mark spits, looking down at the paper then back to
Louis. He meets Louis’ gaze when he rips it up, throwing the pieces in front
of Louis’ face like some fucked up version of confetti. Louis can’t stop the
tears from coming to his eyes as he falls down to his knees on the floor
trying to pick up the pieces of paper, hoping that he could somehow tape
them back together. It feels like Mark just ripped up his soul, showing once
and for all that he would never accept him the way he is while his mother
just stood by and watched it happen.
Louis tries to see through the tears currently stinging his eyes, but it is no
use. The pieces are too small and no matter how much Louis wishes, they
will not form a whole page ever again. He may never know what Harry
wrote. Harry. He needs to talk to Harry. He wishes the other boy was with
him. He would know what to do and say to Mark, but Harry isn't here. He is
at his house, probably preparing for graduation while Louis’ world is
disintegrating around him as if on fire. Louis doesn’t know what happens
next, and he is almost scared. He may end up being homeless with nowhere
to go. He is sure Robin and Anne would let him stay with them, but he
won’t be able to go to college. He has no way to pay for it since Mark will
refuse. He will never see his sisters again.
“He has corrupted you. Perverted your mind into believing in this lie. The
Devil does have you. You need the Lord, and I know exactly how to help
you,” Mark responds, towering over him, words dangerous and deliberate.
Louis feels as though the breath has been knocked out of him, replaced by
crippling terror as he looks at Mark through his tears. What does Mark
mean by that? What the fuck is he going to do? Louis recoils when Mark
bends down, looming over him. A second later, he feels Mark’s hand in his
pocket, taking his phone and throwing it. It hits the surface of the wall with
a loud sickening crack, the sound reverberating throughout the room like an
organ during a quiet church service. The smashed remains land on the
carpeted floor with a thud.
“Mom please! Please, don’t let him take me! I’m still your son! Please tell
me you still love me and don’t let him take me!” Louis cries, and tries to
fight when Mark’s arms come around him, pulling him to his feet. He looks
to his mother for help, silently begging her to do something as more tears
stream down his face, but she just stands there, watching as Mark removes
Louis’ from the room. He feels helpless. Mark is bigger than him. Stronger
than him. Louis tries to pull his arm from Mark’s death hold, but Mark just
holds tighter, hurting him. He is sure that he is going to have bruises, and it
feels like his arm is breaking. He cries out in pain, but Mark doesn’t let off
nor stop dragging Louis down the stairs, the younger man almost falling on
multiple occasion.
“What are you doing with, Lou?” Louis hears a small scared voice come
from the couch. Mark stops to look at Phoebe, but doesn’t loosen his grip.
Louis wants to call out, tell them to get help, but he doesn't want to scare
her. He doesn’t think Mark would ever do something rash, so he clamps his
mouth shut, biting his tongue and trying to stave off more tears. He gives all
of his sisters a small, hopefully reassuring smile, but they are all staring at
him in alam and concern. They probably heard everything.
“Your brother is sick. I am taking him for treatment,” Mark responds,

almost daring them to say anything. Jay is behind them, tears in her eyes,
but she just smiles at her daughters, nodding. The family watches as Mark’s
grip tightens even more on Louis’ arm, pushing him out the door. They
walk quickly to the car, Mark glancing around almost as if he is afraid
someone will see him. Louis twists out of his grip, his heart racing. When
he realizes he is free from Mark’s hold, he begins to run through the grass
of the yard going towards the neighbors, but screams when he is hit, Mark
tackling him to the ground, knocking the breath out of him. Louis twists
around, trying to punch at the bigger man, but Mark grabs his wrist,
squeezing so hard, Louis is afraid his bones are going to break.
“Don’t cause a scene,” Mark growls, his voice low and menacing, as he
looks at the surrounding yards. Louis wants to spit in the bastard's face, but
he doesn't even want to know what Mark would do if he doesn’t comply.
Mark must not see anyone, so he stands up, hauling Louis up with him. His
grip on Louis’ arm is tighter this time, unrelenting, bringing more tears to
Louis’ eyes. He hopes his sisters aren’t watching. What would they think of
all of this? How much did they hear already? He shoves Louis in the back
of his car, slamming the door behind him this time. Pure terror is gripping
Louis now, harder than the hold Mark had on him. He tries the door handle
as Mark goes around to the driver's seat, but Mark locked it behind him.
Louis cowers in the corner when Mark opens the drivers door, feeling the
car shift with his added weight. He slams the door behind him and buckles
up his seat belt. He turns on the ignition without a word, the radio coming
to life and the sound of religious hymns now floating through the car,
making bile rise in Louis’ throat. Mark doesn't look back towards the house
as he quickly maneuvers out of the driveway and drives up the street,
gaining speed rapidly, making the vehicle jolt with each new gear.
Louis thinks that maybe this is his opportunity to escape whichever form of
Hell is awaiting him at their destination, but the doors are locked. Even if
the doors weren’t locked, Louis wouldn’t be able to breakout, the car going
much too fast now. If he jumped he may kill himself at the speed Mark is
going, at the very least break an arm or a leg. Fuck. Louis is helpless. He
has no idea where Mark is taking him, and all he can do is cry. So that's
what he does, letting the gravity of his situation take hold. Letting the fear
and hopelessness take over, sobbing in the back of the car as Mark
continues to ignore him. He wants Harry. He wants Harry to hold him and
to comfort him, but Harry isn't here. He may not ever see Harry again, and
his whole body aches with the realization. Instead he tries a new tactic to
gain information, on the off chance that if he does manage to get near a
phone, he can let someone know where he is. “Where are you taking me?”
Louis asks, trying to hide his sobs as tears continue to course down his
cheeks.
“Somewhere better. Far away from his influence. Somewhere that will help
you cleanse your damned soul from this, the Devil’s work, his pollution.
You will never see that boy again.” Louis cries harder, his chest aching with
Mark’s chilling words. No. This can’t be happening. He is never going to
see Harry again. Fuck. He can’t bare the thought of not seeing Harry or
talking to him every day. Louis looks around, trying to get his brain to focus
on an escape plan. At this point, he’d much rather chance a broken arm or
leg, or even death, than the alternative, so he tries to focus again. There
must be a way he can escape. He quickly tries to wipe the tears from his
eyes so that he can better survey his surroundings.
The doors are locked and the car is moving much to fast for Louis to try to
make a run for it, that he already established. He could hit Mark over the
head with something, but he doesn’t have anything hard enough that would
knock him out on the first attempt, plus he could wreck the car and kill
someone, including himself. That wouldn’t work, but Louis can’t think of
any other way to escape. Those really are his only options while the car is
moving and both may result in his death. It’s futile. Louis slumps back in
the seat with a defeated sob, more tears forming as he realizes there is
nothing he can do. He’s trapped.
“I can’t believe you let that boy touch you. Defile you. You let the devil in.
Did you do anything in our home? Where your sisters could see? Do you
even care about them at all? I bet you don’t. You’re a selfish little piece of
shit. Exposing them to something so disgustingly reprehensible,” Mark
continues, and Louis bites his tongue to keep the confession from slipping
out of his mouth. His mind goes back to when they had sex in his room for
the first time just a few weeks ago, with Mark down stairs. He gets some
sort of sick satisfaction from that, but he doesn’t say that Mark. Too scared
of the consequences.
“You’re lucky to have someone like me in your life. You’re lucky that I met
your whore of a mother and decided to give her a chance despite the fact
that she had a son out of wedlock. I wasn’t going to unless she gave her life
to the Lord and begged forgiveness for her sins,” Mark says, words rising
higher over the music, making Louis feel sick to his stomach. How dare he
call Louis’ mom a whore. She was young when she had Louis, and Mark
isn’t a fucking saint. Louis is sure that Mark had been with women before
he met Louis’ mom. Even though Louis wants to protest, he continues to
stay quiet, not wanting to give Mark the satisfaction of knowing that his
words are cutting him.
“Wanna know what the letter from the filthy faggot said?” Mark taunts, and
Louis wet eyes snap up. His heart begins racing because he does want to
know what it says, but he doesn’t think Mark will tell him the truth. Mark
glances back at him through the rear view mirror, licking his lips like a
starving animal that just smelled the first trace of meat. “It was some stupid
fucking poem about how he worships the devil, using God’s creation as a
reference. It didn’t make any sense to me. He’s a real pansy which isn’t
shocking given that he is a fucking devil worshiping fag. He doesn't love
you. He just wants to corrupt you. Turn you to his wicked ways, and you
fucking fell for it like the stupid useless excuse of a son that you are.”
Louis doesn’t think that is all, but he knows he won’t be getting anything
else from Mark. Louis does think Harry loves him. Well loved him. He has
no idea where Mark is taking him, but if he just disappears, he will break
Harry’s trust completely. Harry will never forgive him, and that hurts Louis
more than anything Mark could say. Mark continues his crusade to tear
Louis down, “You don’t have to worry about him anymore. You are going
to be far away from his influence. Far away from him and his kind. Like I
said, you will never see him again. You’re not going to want to after they
are done with you.” Who are they? What the fuck is Mark talking about?
“Where are you taking me?” Louis asks again, his voice hoarse from his
failed attempt of holding back his tears. It’s the only thing he has said to
Mark since the bastard kidnapped him and threw him in the car. Mark looks
back at him through the rear view mirror, a sick smile on his face that sends
chills down Louis’ spine, fear gripping him once more. His stomach knots
up again, uncertainty ripping up his insides like Mark had done to the poem.
When Mark opens his mouth to answer, Louis can almost see the wicked
words before they leave his lips.
“Where you can get treatment. Harry is a fucking cancer in you, poisoning
your mind. Nothing but a filthy fucking faggot. He is disgusting, and as
long as you are near him, you are too. You are no better than a child rapist.
You are the worst excuse I could have ever asked for in a son. You’re not
even a son at all, you’re a fucking abomination. God should have punished
you earlier, but I will be working through him. Everything you’re doing is
wrong, and we need to make it right before it’s too late. You better fucking
beg for your salvation and take this chance that I am giving you, or you will
never see your sisters or Mom again. Is he worth that to you? Is he worth
your fucking family falling apart? Is this fantasy that you created for
yourself about love worth all of this? God is love. Would he do anything for
you besides defile you? You don’t love him. You are sick. You are fucked
up and twisted. God is love, and this abomination isn’t love.”
What the fuck does Mark mean by treatment? Louis doesn’t think about that
right now, pushing the question to the back of his mind. All he can think
about is Harry. Harry’s wellbeing when he realizes Louis has disappeared.
Louis begins tuning out Marks words, the older man continuing to belittle
him. Louis does love Harry, but Harry doesn’t know. Harry doesn’t know
that Louis loves him. That prospect and Mark’s harsh words has Louis
folding in on himself, his breathing irregular, coming out in short sharp
huffs. Panic fills his system, almost as if it is boiling over. He doesn’t pay
attention when Mark stops talking, pulling his phone out of his pocket and
dialing an unknown number. He can’t hear their conversation, all of his
blood rushing to his ears, heart beating erratically with his continued
labored breaths.
He feels trapped in the car, as if the very walls of the moving vehicle are
closing in on him. He can’t breathe. He can’t think. He can’t move, too
paralysed by fear and his turbulent thoughts. His breathing gets even more
irregular with each passing mile, feeling as though something heavy is
sitting on his chest. Harry doesn’t know. Louis feels like he is dying, as
though he can’t get air into his lungs, his whole body hurting, but Mark just
keeps talking on the phone, steadfastly ignoring the son he is supposed to
love, as Louis continues to spiral, curled up and sobbing in the back seat of
a quickly moving vehicle, clutching his chest, begging his heart to stop
beating.
___________
Harry fiddles with the rings on his fingers nervously, looking around at the
assembled crowd of people for the six hundred and seventy third time since
he arrived with Anne, Robin and Gemma. They have all since left to take
their seats among the assembled family and friends of the students
graduating. He knows where they are sitting, having looked in their
direction several times. He saw Niall’s family as well, his mom waving at
him and his dad shooting him a thumbs up.
“Where is he?” Harry asks, looking down at his watch then back at Niall
and Liam. Both boys look just as worried as Harry feels, also peering
around at all of the faces. The ceremony is supposed to start in ten minutes.
The teachers will be coming to round them up and get them in line by
alphabetical order any second now, but Louis still isn't there. Harry hasn’t
even seen his family. Worry gnaws at his gut, not for the first time. He had
just seen Louis this morning, and he seemed fine. He was smiling. Harry
has texted him a few times with no answer, and has even tried to call. His
call went straight to voicemail, as if Louis has his phone turned off.
“I don’t know, Harry,” Niall responds, voice soft. Liam shakes his head. He
knows neither of the boys have heard from him either, they would have said
something by now. They look just as worried as Harry feels. Liam’s foot is
tapping while Niall wrings his hands, clearly distraught. If Louis were hurt,
surely he would have heard something by now. News travels fast in a small
town, so Harry doesn’t think that would be it. He tries to think about this
logically.
What changed between this morning and now? Fuck. The poem. Harry’s
stomach drops with the realization. Louis read the poem where Harry
confessed his love to him. Louis probably freaked out at the idea of a man
being in love with him, his faith not allowing it. He ran. That’s the only
logical explanation. He ran from him. He probably told his parents that he
needed to get away, turned off his phone and left Harry. Holy shit. No. That
can’t be right, but it is the only explanation Harry can think of at the current
moment. Louis doesn’t love him. He couldn’t. It’s wrong to him. What they
have is wrong. He was just trying to get it out of his system before he
married some woman.
Everything was a lie. Louis has been lying to him about everything, how he
feels and questioning his faith. Harry can’t stop his brain from traveling to
all of those times he had seen Louis lie right to his parents’ face without
even blinking. Who is to say he wasn’t doing that to Harry? He could have
easily lied to Harry about his feelings or acted like he cared for him. All
Harry can think about is Logan, and the lies he fed him. The lies that left
him bleeding and crying on the ground. He feels the same now, except there
isn’t any blood on the outside of his body to reflect the pain he is currently
experiencing.
Harry feels tears prickle at his eyes, but he blinks them away, his attention
turning to a teacher who is lining them up, seeing who is missing. Louis is
missing. Louis is gone. He left Harry when he read the poem. Harry poured
out his heart, and Louis left. Harry feels stupid and naive again, thinking
that Louis would be any different than Logan. Logan hurt him physically,
but it is nothing compared to the stabbing pain currently residing in his
heart, getting more severe with each new beat. He wishes it would stop. His
heart. The pain. He wishes it would all stop, but the world somehow keeps
turning.
Harry hates religion. He hates it with the force of a thousand burning suns.
Religion spoils happiness. It ruins lives. It is a chain on society, keeping it
firmly in the stone ages. Harry hates it. Religion is the only thing standing
in way of his and Louis’ happiness. He thought he was getting through to
Louis, but he must have been wrong. Louis must have had more blind belief
in his God than Harry had thought because Louis is gone. Louis left,
probably because he thought God would have wanted him to. Religion is a
cancer on humanity, and Harry really fucking hates it. Harry balls his hands
into fists, blunt nails digging into his palms. It’s welcome. The pain is a
gratifying distraction for the harsh waves of hate, anger, and anxiety
crashing over Harry.
He feels like he is in a dream as he gets into formation, stupid hat firmly in

place over his curls. Every time he moves his arms, the sleeves of the gown
flutter, almost feeling like wings. Harry wishes he could fly away at that
moment because if he could fly, he would go to Louis, but that wouldn’t fix
this. He would much rather go back in time and stop himself from being so
fucking stupid again. Stop himself from trusting Louis so maybe, just
maybe, he wouldn’t be in this excruciating pain he is currently feeling.
He can feel the panic rising in his throat as his limbs start to shake. He tells
himself to get a grip. He can’t have a panic attack right in the middle of his
graduation. He briefly considers running away, to the back stairwell of the
school, but he can’t. That would just make it worse, far too many memories
have been shared with Louis in that stairwell. That is the place where
everything shifted. He can’t go there. A memory of Louis is being recalled
with everything he sees, as if Louis’ essence has seeped into every available
surface of the school, serving as a reminder to Harry of what he doesn’t
have. What he has lost.
He ignores Liam’s worried glances in front of him, Niall being too far
ahead of them to see him. He bites his cheek to keep the tears at bay, not
wanting anyone to know his inner turmoil. He tries to take a few deep
breaths, clenching his hands into fists to keep him grounded. He can’t slip
off the edge of his sanity, not in front of all of these people. He needs to
stay focused on walking to his seat. He needs to concentrate on anything
other than the gnawing dread in the pit of his stomach and the crippling
realization that he was nothing to Louis. He just needs to make it through
the ceremony, then he can leave this hell and wallow in self pity, alone. He
can find the one thing that may help him.
Chapter End Notes
*Dodges the house cat because that is what y'all are throwing at me at
this point*
Umm... I love you. I swear. I really do!
As always, kudos and comments are always welcome.
If you want to follow me on my social media accounts for updates or
just to chat, find them below
Tumblr: @wicked-archer
Fade to Black
Chapter Notes
Okay... this chapter may be triggering for some people. It's... well it's a
lot. It has been in the tags from the beginning however if you aren't
sure if you want to read it, please DM me on Twitter, and I will tell
you what happens for you to decide. I think you should read it, but I
get that it will be difficult. I really fucking do because it was difficult
to write. Please let me know what you think, and understand that this is
reality. This is why.
To ease everyone's mind, it will have a happy ending.

with the emotions/theme of the chapter. I also included Ghost of You
by Five Seconds of Summer because.... Well I think it really fits the
chapter as well.
Life, it seems, will fade away

Drifting further, every day
Getting lost within myself
Nothing matters, no one else
I have lost the will to live
Simply nothing more to give
There is nothing more for me
Need the end to set me free- Metallica
Harry winces when the glass in the door of his old home breaks, slicing his
hand. He doesn't care though. It’s the most he has felt since the beginning of
graduation. He somehow had managed to make it through the ceremony
without going into a full blown panic attack, but as soon as it was over, he
ran. He left his cap and gown on fake wooden surface of the gym floor and
ran, still in his formal clothes. He didn’t tell anyone where he was going.
They probably wouldn’t care anyway. They wouldn't miss him. The one
person that he thought would, left him. He just left. No phone call or
anything. He just felt the need to get away from Harry, and Harry’s stupid
fucking feelings.
He carefully pushes his hand through the shards of glass, finding the
deadbolt and turning it easily. The house has been abandoned since they
moved out about a month ago. They probably couldn’t rent it out, or it is
just plain condemned, deemed too horrible for actual living occupants.
When he stumbles through the threshold, he is greeted by the familiar scent
of mold, followed by dust. Harry thought he would never see this place
again, leaving it behind with the miserable person that he used to be, but
here he is, running to it. He is mostly running to what was hidden away in
his old bedroom. What he left behind thinking he would never need it again.
With that thought, he takes a deep breath, silently belittling his own body
for taking in the oxygen. He hurts. His body, his heart, his fucking soul.
Everything hurts. He thinks he surpassed the denial stage an hour ago when
Louis didn’t show up for the ceremony, never answering his calls or texts.
He tries not to look at the old, ugly couch, the very same one that Louis
straddled him on then rode his fingers on Christmas day. He feels a stabbing
in his chest. He turns, needing to not look at the fucking living room, and
goes up the stairs, taking them two at a time. The silence of his old home
almost feels deafening, his footsteps echoing off of the empty walls. The
bedroom. He needs to get to the fucking bedroom.
He opens the door, more memories flooding him. The ghost of him and
Louis dancing on the small expanse of floor in front of his bed, the night
Harry lost his virginity. He won’t be dancing today. He doesn’t even know
if his feet could. Next he takes in the bed that they smoked weed on when
Harry had a panic attack at school, then Louis rode him. The closet where
Harry kept Louis’ clothes from the day in the park neatly folded on the top
shelf. Those went with him though. He doesn’t know if he could even bear
to look at them, the very thought making his empty stomach churn. He was
supposed to go to dinner with his family after the ceremony, a celebration
of sorts, but he couldn’t. He can’t keep it together any longer. He tightens
his hand into a fist, not even wincing from the abrasions on his skin, red
blood dripping to mingle with the existing stains on the carpet.
He turns away, trying to push the memories as far back as possible and
crosses the room in two quick steps, leaving the door open. He drops to his
knees, reaching under the bed, finding the item after a few seconds of
blindly feeling around. He pulls it out, the cool glass clinking on his rings,
filling the silence of the room. He doesn't even get off of the floor, he just
turns around, resting his back against the bed and opens the bottle. The first
sip of the whiskey burns his throat all the way down until it feels like there
is a fire in his churning stomach. He almost throws up right then and there,
but swallows it down, taking another sip, then another. He hasn’t drank like
this in years, but he would do anything to numb the pain and forget the
memories. The memories of the room he is currently sitting in, both good
and bad.
Harry tries not to dwell on the visions of the past dancing through his head,
but he can’t help it. Everything reminds him of Louis, of what he thought
they had. Louis just threw it all away. He ran. He left Harry. He never loved
him. How could he though? Harry is everything that Louis was taught to
hate. He is gay. He is an atheist. Fuck. Harry couldn’t even manage to love
himself, so how in the fuck could he have ever expected Louis to? Harry
starts sobbing then, his whole body convulsing with each new strangled
breath that fights to escape him. Harry hates himself. He hates everything
he is and everything he was. He especially hates that Louis couldn’t love
him.
Harry continues to drink, reliving his last moments with Louis. He trusted
him. He told him everything. He laid all of his secrets in Louis’ hands and
begged him to hold on to them, to keep them safe from the world, but he
didn’t. He just tossed them aside like Lucifer was cast from heaven, then he
ripped out Harry’s heart and fucking stomped on it. Harry wishes it would
have stopped beating then, but it didn’t. He hates his heart for continuing to
pulse, a constant reminder that he still has blood flowing through his veins.
He hates it for desperately wanting to run to Louis, to find him, when Louis
so obviously wants nothing to do with him. The alcohol no longer burns as
it makes its way down his throat, which is a pity really. Harry needs the
physical pain. That kind of pain is a distraction. It reminds him that he is
somehow still alive, somehow still breathing, even though internally, he is
in agony.
The alcohol is no longer doing it’s job to numb him, and the cuts on his
hands have now clotted, the blood drying a dark red on his skin and dress
pants. It barely stings, so with a shaky hand, he reaches into the drawer of
his old beside stand, quickly locating the only thing in there that remained,
his knife. The object that holds nothing but pain and the memories
associated with it. He takes it out, looking at it for a few minutes silently
telling himself what a piece of shit he is for even taking it out to begin with.
He thought he was past this, but he’s not. He fucking needs it. He needs to
feel something other than the staggering anguish in his chest. It feels like
the very object he is holding has been stabbed in his heart; he just wants
someone to go ahead and twist the fucking knife. End it.
He opens it, closing his eyes, not wanting to see his own reflection staring
back at him from the blade. He can’t stand to see the haunted look in his
eyes, his bones breaking in front of him, or the marks Louis left on his skin
last night. None of it. He wants his own existence to fade with the marks.
He looks down at his arms, seeing the bracelets that have been there for so
long covering his wrists. For years, he has kept his scars to himself, never
allowing anyone to see them, to know his pain, but everything changed last
night. He removed them. It felt like peeling back his skin, exposing the
muscle and bone beneath. It hurt more to take off his bracelets to be honest,
but he did it. He did it because he stupidly trusted someone. That seemed
like a century ago, not just twelve hours.
He closes his eyes tightly again, reliving the memory of when he removed
them, praying to a god that he didn’t believe in that maybe Louis wouldn’t
find him disgusting or totally fucked up. Instead, Louis kissed them. He
kissed every single fucking one of them and told him he was beautiful. It
was all a fucking lie, of course. Harry isn’t beautiful. He is a fucked up
mess with a damned soul. Nothing that is broken is beautiful. He opens his
eyes again, maneuvering the blade beneath the bracelets, applying pressure
until they slowly begin to snap and fray, almost like the shattered pieces of
his heart, finally revealing his scars once more. The scars he deserves.
Louis said last night that the scars represented Harry’s survival. He can
almost hear his raspy voice. Can almost see his honest blue eyes. He
shouldn’t have survived. He should have died then. His scars represent his
failure. His failure to remove from the world something worthless.
Something unworthy of breath and life. Something unlovable. Unsavable.
If he had actually succeeded then, he wouldn’t be alive to have to suffer

through this now. This mind numbing, all consuming heartache and anguish
that is slowly drowning him. Paralyzing him. This is a fate so much worse
than anything he experienced when he was thirteen. A fate so much worse
than death. His physical and mental pain then is nothing compared to the
torment he is currently feeling. He would take a thousand beatings from
Logan if it meant that Louis had never left. A thousand more to have never
met Louis at all. He is done. He is so fucking done. Everything is hopeless.
He will never, ever be loved. Never be worthy of it, let alone deserve. He
doesn’t deserve it. No one so fucked up and beyond help and repentance
deserves love. Not a love like Louis gave him. Or at least, the love Harry
thought he gave him. It is his fault that Louis is gone. He is the one that
decided to confess his fucking feelings to him, driving him away. He is the
one that fell in love with a devout Christian. This is his fault, so he deserves
this pain. He deserves everything he has gone through in life. If there is a
God he is probably sitting on his heavenly throne among the clouds
laughing at Harry’s agony. At his failure. Harry raises one finger to the sky,
flipping off whatever God is watching, then brings the knife down to his
skin.
It is cool against it, a direct contrast to the heat his body is emitting from the
alcohol coursing through his veins. Harry doesn't even bother attempting to
keep the new wave of tears at bay. He doesn't attempt to keep quiet as the
knife bites into his skin, not breaking through the surface yet. No one can
see him. No one can hear him. He feels the tears slip down his cheeks, then
drip off of his chin onto his exposed chest. He had worn a nice shirt under
his gown, only buttoning it up halfway, hoping to drive Louis crazy later
that night. Obviously that was an idiotic notion. With the thought of Louis
more tears come. He tries to blink them away, but it doesn’t work. His
vision is so blurry, he can barely see his arm. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t
need to see it to know that it’s there. To know how to hurt himself. It’s
muscle memory at this point. The only memory that is useful to him. A
constant. The only constant he has had for five long years. The only thing
that has been there for him when no one and nothing else ever was.
He lets out another anguished sob with the first cut, balling his hand into a
fist. It stings, but he deserves this. He deserves all of it. He watches the
blood pool to the surface with his blurred vision. He immediately places a
finger over the abrasion, pressing into it hard, causing a stabbing pain to
shoot up his arm. He doesn’t even wince, instead letting out a strangled,
guttural cry like a wounded animal. He feels the pain in every fiber of his
being, but it feels good. It makes him feel human somehow, grounding him
in this damned reality. This is Hell. His world without Louis is Hell. If he
does die, anywhere would be better than this. He wouldn’t even ask to go to
Heaven because Hell would be welcome. In Hell, he may not feel anything,
or he may feel everything. Either way, it would be better than this reality.
As his body shakes with another sob, he takes the knife to his skin once
more, right below the first laceration. He slices it again, deeper this time.
He gets some sort of sick satisfaction from the blood pooling at the surface.
He almost hates it. Blood means life, and Harry wants death. It is bright red,
running down his arm and onto his hand. Too bright for his bleak existence.
For some reason, he’s surprised it isn’t black. Black like his soul. Dead.
Hopeless. Alone. Always alone. With each new mark, he feels like another
memory of Louis is released into the world, sharing his pain with it.
Flooding it with his grief. Maybe it, too, will burn.
He continues crying, chugging from the bottle of Jack Daniels, and cutting
his skin, spiraling further into oblivion, where his demons can’t find him.
Where no one can. He doesn't want anyone to find him ever again. He
wants his miserable existence to end. So he will end it himself since there is
no God to do it for him. He brings the knife to his wrist, right over the
healed wound from so long ago, another life. A life that should have ended
then. Just two more slices, and it will all be over. His pain. The pain he has
caused his parents and Louis.
Louis won’t have to worry about hurting him. He can go back to his devout
life and pray for God to take the gay away. See how well that works for
him. What’s two more in the grand scheme of things? What’s one more life
being snuffed out from existence? If you blow one candle out, the whole
world won’t be in darkness. There are other, brighter candles that will still
shine. He has no brightness left. His light has left him. His life is dark and
insignificant. He is doing the world a favor really. He is doing Louis a
favor. Louis could come back. Louis could hang out with Liam and Niall.
Be happy. Not question his faith. He should hate Louis for leaving, but he
can’t. He loves him too much to hate him.
“Harry.” He jumps, the feminine voice startling him. He looks up to find his
mom stepping over the threshold of the doorway, her mouth open in horror,
tears in her eyes as she looks at him. It’s the first time she has been in this
room since he tried to kill himself. She normally avoided it like the fucking
plague. He was a plague to her, a cancer in the family. Another stabbing
pain goes straight through his chest, reminding him too much of the night
she found him. He hopes she runs away like she did then and abandons him
here to die in his own self destructive misery. Leaving his corpse here to
rot, allowing the bugs and rodents to eat it. Maybe then he would be good
for something. Maybe then he would matter to someone or something.
“Fuck off,” he spits, laying the knife down beside his leg and grabbing the
bottle, taking another swig. His head feels heavy with it, the room spinning
and tilting on its axis. His world has been spinning for far longer, so what’s
wrong with the fucking room spinning? At least it has a reason to now. He
looks down at the marks on his arm, most still bleeding, but some having
stopped. He needs to change that. He needs his whole body to bleed. Then
at least it will reflect the pain he feels inside. His heart already feels like it’s
bleeding, each new beat splattering more blood, painting the world red.
Fuck the world. Fuck his existence. Fuck everything.
“Harry, please. Listen to me,” she says, dropping down to the ground,
pulling off her cardigan, trying to put it over his arm. He pushes her away
with his free hand. He doesn't want to stop the bleeding. Doesn’t she
understand? He wants the bleeding to continue until he has no more blood.
Until it is dried up and gone. He wants it to end. The quicker his body runs
out of the fluid, the faster that will be. She just needs to leave him to it.
“Leave Mom. Leave like you desperately wanted to the last time. I know
you wanted to leave me in a pool of my own blood. That’s okay. I was a
disappointment to you as a son. I made dad leave. I was a total fuck up. You
should’ve jus’ left me there like I know you wanted to, so now’s your
chance. You can be rid of your fucking burden,” Harry slurs, looking at his
mom through bleary eyes. His accent has gotten thicker with the amount of
alcohol he has consumed, and he doesn’t even bother to cover it up. He can
barely make out her features, her whole body swaying, but he thinks she
looks shocked by his words.
“Harry, I never wanted to leave you there,” she responds, her voice
cracking. When he brings the bottle to his lips, she tries to take it from his
hand. He pushes her away again, rougher this time, and chugs some more,
now over halfway through its contents. If he doesn’t die of blood loss,
maybe he will die of alcohol poisoning. Fuck he hopes so. He will take any
death as long as he stops hearing Louis’ voice, stops seeing his eyes, and
stops feeling the ghost of his touch. As long as his mind is quiet, and he
doesn’t have to live with his own fucking memories.
“Jus’ fuckin’ leave me alone. Fuck, Mom. Don’t you fucking understand? I
want to fucking die, so lemme do it. Be a good mom for once in a fuckin’
blue moon and jus’ lemme die,” Harry begs, his cries becoming hysterical
now. Why won’t she just let it end? Does she want him to suffer? What kind
of mom would want her son to suffer? He hopes his words cut her. He
wants to give her a reason to leave him, to hate him. It may be easier on her
when he slits his wrist.
“No, Harry. I can’t do that,” she responds, reaching for his hand, but Harry
pulls it away, feeling burned by her touch. Her eyes are on the knife though,
so Harry throws his now almost empty bottle against the wall, the pieces
shattering much like his heart. She flinches at the sound, glass falling down
around them like rain on a stormy day. He takes that moment to grab the
knife again, just holding it in his hand. He likes the heaviness of it, knowing
that it is something that could just end this once and for all, but his mom
still isn’t making any moves to get up like he wants her to. He needs to
make her fucking leave.
“Fuck off, Mom. I never fuckin’ asked to be alive. I never asked for this
entire fucking existence, and it is my right to end it. You brought me into
this world, but I never fucking asked for it. Dad didn’t want me, and you
barely do, so let me fuckin’ do what would make y’all happy. What will
make me happy. I hate you for ever takin’ the choice away from me all
those years ago. I didn’t ask for you to fuckin’ save me, then, and I don’t
want you to save me now. You’ll regret it just like you did the last time. It
was all pointless. Everythin’ is fuckin’ pointless. You should‘ve lemme go,
Mom. I wouldn't’ve caused you years of disappointment. You would’ve
been better off without me. You would have been happy and free. You
wouldn’t have had such a fucked up, useless excuse of a human being for a
son. There’s no savin’ me. I reckon I’m a lost cause, so jus’ lemme go!”
Harry screams, hoping to say something, anything to get her to fucking
leave.
“Harry, that’s not true. You’re not a disappointment to me. You never were.
I’m so sorry for shutting you out after it happened…” Harry doesn't want to
hear her lies. He knows the truth. He flinches when she refers to what
happened as ‘it’, not even being able to say the fucking words. It is further
proof, in his mind, that she doesn’t care.
“After what happened, Mom? Fuckin’ say it. After I tried to slit my fuckin’
wrists because I’m weak. Because I’m not meant for the world or livin’ in
it,” Harry supplies, bitterness dripping into every word as he grips the knife.
Her blue eyes travel down to it, then back up to his face. He closes his own
eyes, not wanting to look at her for another moment, but the blue eyes of his
mom are replaced by the blue eyes of Louis as soon as he does. He grips the
knife tighter, wanting nothing more than to bring it to his wrist.
“After you tried to kill yourself,” she corrects, whispering the words into
the world, probably ashamed to even say it outloud. She closes her eyes
with the statement, another tear trickling down her face. This Is the first
time she has even acknowledged it. Not even when he was in the hospital
did they ever talk about it, nor did she and Harry’s dad really discuss it.
Harry doesn’t even think she has ever even said it outloud, the gods know
he hadn’t until last night. It was something that was never talked about,
different memories of the ordeal seared into their brains, but never
verbalized.
“Do you know why I tried to off myself, Mom? Do you fuckin’ know
why?” Harry asks, his voice rising, anger more prevalent now than anything
else. Maybe if he tells her, she will just leave him alone. Then he can go
back to his depression, something that he knows and is familiar with, like
his favorite band t-shirt. When she shakes her head, he continues, “This
feller that I thought I loved beat the ever lovin’ shit outta me. He beat me to
a bloody fuckin’ pulp ‘cause I’m gay. Him and his buddies held me down
and beat the fire out of me. He spit on me. He called me a fuckin’ fag and
told me I shouldn’t be alive. He told me God hates me and wrote the words
on my chest as a reminder. Later, I carved them into my fuckin’ skin with
dad’s huntin’ knife. I wish it would have fuckin’ scarred, so I wouldn’t
forget what I was in God’s eyes. I told y’all I fell down the stairs at Niall’s
house. You didn’t even fuckin’ ask. You saw me fuckin’ spiraling, but no
one gave a damn. No one understood. No one fuckin’ wanted to. The guy
messaged me, sayin’ that he should’ve killed me. So I took his advice and
tried to kill myself because he was right. I didn’t deserve to be alive. I still
fuckin’ don’t.”
He is breathing hard with his words, more tears falling down his face. He
just came out to his mom. He didn’t even think about the implications,
mostly just wanting to hurt her. Wanting her to feel even an ounce of the
pain that he is currently experiencing. Maybe then she will understand.
Maybe then she will flee like he knows she wants to. Why would she want
to be in this room, where everything haunts them? At least he has a few
good memories here. Well, what he thought were good until today, now
they are more painful than the ones he had before. His body is shaking with
his anger. He just wants to punch something, a wall, the bed, himself. He is
just so fucking angry at himself for ever trusting Louis. So fucking naive
again.
“I’m so sorry you had to go through that alone. I had no idea, Harry. You
shut us out. I tried to get through to you, but you just locked yourself in
your room, screaming at anyone who tried to enter. I noticed the marks. I
noticed the empty liquor bottles, but I didn’t know what to do. I thought if I
ignored it, then maybe it would go away or you would eventually talk to
me. I had no idea it would come to that. Then when I found you, I--I know
it’s not an excuse Harry, but I just didn’t know how to handle it. The image
of seeing my son, barely breathing with his blood surrounding him haunts
me every single day. You were my world, Harry. Every time I looked at
you, all I could see is your lifeless form, laying on the cold floor, your pale
skin covered in crimson. I felt like I failed as a mom. Like me being around,
only hurt you more. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to handle
it, Harry, and I shut down. I pushed you away, and I-- I hate myself for that
Harry, but I want to try. I want to make it better, Harry. Please, let me help
you. I love you. I know I don’t tell you that enough, and I know I am a
terrible mom. Please, just let me help.” Fat tears roll down her cheeks with
the words, her mascara creating a black ring under her eyes. Her nose is red,
and her voice and hands are shaky. Harry wants to believe her, but he just
can’t.
“You don’t have to fret over me nomore, Mom. I’ll be gone soon enough,”
Harry responds, falling back into sadness with startling speed. He just
doesn’t see the point in being angry anymore. It will solve nothing. It’s just
a waste of energy. He holds the knife to his wrist once again, crying harder.
He can hear his mom’s cries as well, he looks up to find her shaking her
head, not even bothering to wipe her own tears away. He thinks she may be
accepting his fate. He has. He wants to die. He has nothing left to live for.
He lost his happiness when he decided to fucking tell Louis how he felt. He
lost his sun. His whole world is dark now, the darkness where his demons
dwell and the shadows of his past. He is going to let them take him down
with them this time, drag him to the underworld and let them feast on
what’s left of his destroyed heart. They can have it. He isn’t using it
anymore. All of the good parts of it left with Louis. He wishes he didn’t
splatter the remains of the alcohol on the wall, he could have fucking
finished it.
“Harry. Talk to me. That’s all in the past. You have been doing much better.
Please, tell me what’s going on,” Anne tries, her eyes soft, voice hardly
above a whisper, as if Harry is some wild animal she doesn't want to startle.
He may as well be, though. He is holding a knife to his flesh. He feels
deranged, his world spiraling out of control. The only thing he knows how
to control is this. He can control if he lives or dies. This is his fucking
choice, and he frankly doesn’t see the point in living. Not when life is this
hopeless, this miserable.
“Don’t’cha see?” Harry asks, her question seeming ludicrous to him

somehow, as he laughs almost manically. How does she not know what’s
going on? His entire fucking world is falling down around him, and she
doesn't know why. How could she not know why? How could he be in this
much fucking pain, and nobody know why? Can’t they feel it? Can’t they
feel him bleeding? Aren’t they also choking on the panic? Aren’t their
hearts breaking? How can they not be, when everything he loves is gone?
Destroyed. He couldn’t hang on to him, no matter how hard he tried.
Holding on to him was like trying to hold on to the wind. He wasn’t solid.
He left for reasons Harry isn’t sure he understands. Well he does understand
one thing. Louis left because Harry fell in love, and Louis’ God didn’t
approve.
“Harry, please. I need more than that. I want to understand,” Anne

responds, shaking her head to his question, her tears being flicked from her
face with the action. Since he is going to kill himself, he may as well tell
her. She may as well know why, not that she really cares. Why would she?
She knows why he wanted to kill himself at thirteen now, so may as well
come full circle and tell her why he is going to do it at eighteen. Why it’s
even more deserving this time.
“Louis.” Harry whispers the name like prayer falling on deaf ears, voice
cracking with the single word. He starts crying again, harder than he ever
has before, saying his name making it somehow become more real. He lays
the knife over the abrasions on his skin, pressing into them with the flat
surface of the blade, not cutting just reopening the existing wounds. It does
nothing to stop his descent into madness. Nothing to distract from his
turmoil. The pain only reminds him he is alive and his failure at life. He
squeezes his eyes closed, begging it to just end. Begging a God, any God, to
prove they are real just by stopping his fucking heart. It would be that
simple. Just a snap of their devine fingers, and he would be a dead believer.
It doesn’t come, though, so he just cries harder, pressing the knife deeper,
letting the pain shoot through his arm.
“What about him, love?” His mom asks, reminding him that she is
somehow still there with him. He wanted to die alone, but it seems like he is
going to have an audience. He supposes it’s fitting in someway. She was
there when he was born, so she may as well be there when he dies. He
blinks his eyes open, finding her dark brows knitted together in confusion.
He chokes on another sob, trying to take a breath through the water in his
throat, coughing, his whole body convulsing with it. He flips the knife in
his hand, bringing the blade to his wrist once more. It would be so easy to
just end it. He doesn't even know why he keeps talking to her. He doesn't
know why he can’t just fucking do it. Maybe he’s a coward. Maybe he is
scared to know what comes after death, even though he is sure it is nothing.
He will just cease to exist. It sounds great. Perfect really. He would not
longer be tormented by the memories of Logan. Of Louis.
“He’s gone. He fuckin’ left me. He-- he left me ‘cause I told him I love him.
He left me ‘cause he couldn’t love me back. He’s fuckin’ gone. He never
wanted me. He could never love someone so fucked up. He could never
love someone with a fuckin’ cock when his fuckin’ God told him it was
wrong. I told him I love him, and he fuckin’ left, Mom. Don’t you see? I
deserve this. I deserve to fuckin’ die ‘cause I’m not worth anything. I’m not
worth his love. I’m not worth yours and Robin’s time. I am not worth the
fuckin’ air I breathe or the dirt I walk on. I need to die. I need to end it. I
don’t wanna live anymore!” Harry is screaming now, each word coming out
on a sob. He doesn't even know if his mom can understand him, the tears
clogging his throat making it hard from him to breathe, to speak.
“Harry, I--”
“Don’t say it. Don’t say you think he loves me, too. Don’t fuckin’ lie to me
and tell me everythin’ is gonna be okay. It’s not gonna fuckin’ be okay. He’s
gone. He was my sunshine. He lit up my fuckin’ world, and he’s gone. He
made my life meanin’ful and fuckin’ happy. He was my source of
happiness, and he’s jus’ fuckin’ left me without a single word. The only
thing that is left is darkness, remaining like an old friend. So don’t tell me I
have a reason to live. Don’t fuckin’ dare sit there and tell me that you love
me, and I should keep living for me. I don’t want to live for me. I want to
live for him, but he doesn’t want me to. He doesn't give a fuckin’ shit about
me. He doesn't care if I live or die, so I am choosin’ to fuckin’ die because
anything is better than this fuckin’ pain. The pain in my chest remindin’ me
that I’m here. That I’m breathing when I don’t fuckin’ wanna be. None of
this fuckin’ matters. None of it. I don’t fuckin’ matter to anyone, especially
not him, so yeah. I’m fuckin’ done. I don’t wanna do this anymore. I don’t
wanna keep torturing myself, and everyone ‘round me, just by fuckin’
existin’.” He is breathing hard, his voice hoarse from his screams.
His mom actually flinches with his speech, more tears falling from her eyes,
as if she actually fucking cares. Harry is still crying, each sob coming out
more forceful than the last, leaving his body shaking, the knife poised on
his alabaster skin digging in just a bit, right over the scar from the last time.
Images of Logan replace his mom, the way he spat in his face, the way he
beat the hell out of him. Funny. There was no beating the hell out of Harry.
Harry is Hell. Logan is quickly replaced by Louis, smiling until his eyes
crinkle at the corners. Harry sobs harder, just wanting it all to fucking stop.
Louis’ laugh fills the room, a hallucination of what was once there, the
music Harry once heard. Harry can almost smell him, taste his skin like he
has so many times before. Harry digs the knife in harder, the point drawing
more blood. Every word Louis said somehow playing through his mind like
the backdrop to his fucked up life.
“Listen to me, Harry. Please. I need you to hear me,” His mom’s voice
somehow breaks through Louis’. Harry wants to scream at her because he
was hearing Louis’ voice again. He never though he would. He was seeing
Louis again, but her swaying image comes back into his line of sight. Fuck.
He shakes his head, the alcohol churning in his stomach, the room spinning
with the movement. He suddenly feels exhausted, his limbs heavy. As
heavy as his heart, but he doesn’t drop his arm. He looks up at her, meeting
her eyes for the first time. They look desperate, haunted. He did this to her.
He hates himself even more. He is such a royal fuck up. She was happy,
too, and he ruined it for her. She doesn’t let him speak, just grabs his face in
her warm hands, forcing him to keep eye contact with her.
“You are not worthless. You are loved by a lot of people, and every single
one of us would be devastated if you choose to end your life today. I don’t
know what happened with Louis, but Harry, what you two had together
wasn’t a secret. Robin and I knew. We were just waiting for you to tell us.
We love you regardless, and we just want you to be happy. We could tell by
the way you looked at each other. I don’t know what happened to him, but I
don’t think he wanted to leave you, Harry. I think you’re just sad and drunk,
but you need to think about this logically. He loves you, Harry. I know you
don’t believe me when I say that, but he does. I know that look. He loves
you.” She is weeping now, each word more broken than the last, almost
begging Harry.
Harry shakes his head. There is no way that what she is saying is true.
There is no way Louis could possibly ever have loved him. He wouldn’t
have left if he loved him, but what about everyone else. What about Robin
and Gemma? Would they miss him if he died? What about Niall and Liam?
The thought of never seeing Niall’s smiling face, blue eyes sparkling with
mirth makes Harry’s arm go slack. He tries to fight his way out of the
intoxication, force his brain to approach everything logically, like his mom
suggested. He is a logical person, afterall, so it shouldn’t be that difficult. If
he ends it now, then he will never know why Louis left. He may not ever
see him again, but he deserves to know why.
“Harry. Can you please give me the knife now?” Anne asks, a certain kind
desperation in her voice, making Harry’s eyes snap to her. She is holding
out her hand, her gaze shooting between his and the knife he is holding.
Suddenly the realization hits him like a fucking missile. His mom loves
him. She is here for him when he tried to push her away. When he said
horrible, cruel things just to get her to leave, she didn’t leave him. She’s not
here with Robin, putting on a show. She is here for Harry, and that has
Harry’s hand pausing, his alcohol laden mind trying to process the
information.
Harry looks at her, then back at the knife, still held to his skin. This time his
mind goes to all of the good times he has had with her over the years. She
has just started smiling again, and he knows, now, that she would miss him.
He would take her smile away if he did this. He would take his own smile
away which he only just managed to find, thanks to Louis. He still hurts,
almost unbearably so, but he can breathe a little bit better now. His world is
still spiraling out of control, but at least it’s spinning. Life has gone on, even
though he felt as though time had stood still. Can he live a life without
Louis? Does he want to? He isn’t sure, but maybe he shouldn’t make this
decision when he is beyond the point of merely being drunk. Maybe he
should take a step back and actually think about this. This is the only life he
gets to live. Is it really that pointless? Is he really ready to give it all up?
“Come on, love. I know you’re hurting. I know you’re sad, and I know you
miss him. We can figure this out together, okay? Let me help you. Let us
help you, love,” Anne says softly, and Harry breaks. He reaches out with
one shaky hand, laying the knife in her palm. She sags in relief, but Harry
has began sobbing again, his breath coming out in sharp, short huffs. He can
feel the panic taking him over now, his anger and pain being quickly
replaced by overwhelming confusion at the situation. He doesn't know what
to do now. Before he had a plan. Before, he was going to kill himself, but
now he doesn’t know where he goes from here. He feels warm arms come
around him a moment later, his mom cradling him as he continues to sob.
“I love him so much, Mom, but he left me. He never loved me. I told him
everythin’. I told him about Logan and my scars. I showed ‘im, and he jus’
left without a word,” Harry says in between his breaths, the words coming
out choppy. Anne pets his hair, squeezing him harder as he gently thumps
her back with his fist, silently begging her to make it stop, to put an end to
his pain. He almost did, perhaps he should have, but it’s too late now. He
gave her the knife. She begins rocking him as he continues to sob onto her
dress, phrases like ‘please mom’, ‘make it stop’ and ‘kill me’ slipping from
his lips on occasion, but she simply holds onto him tighter, holds onto her
baby while he clutches onto her like a lifeline because that’s what she is
right now. The only thing that is keeping him alive because he would have
died if she hadn’t shown up when she did. Again.
“How-- d-did-- y-you-- find-d-- me?” Harry asks through his sobs, suddenly
needing to know why she even came looking for him. Why she even cared
enough. He feels his heart rate beginning to regulate. He knows his panic
attack is subsiding, but that doesn’t stop the pain in his chest. Nothing
would, except death, but he decided against that. He decided that his life
was somehow salvageable, and maybe he would make it to the next sunrise.
“After we realized you were missing, Robin, Gemma, Niall, Liam and I all
split up, going places we thought you may be. When I got here, I heard you
in your old room and texted them saying that I found you,” she explained,
her voice still soft, but he can hear that she is still crying. He can tell by the
waver in her voice, the sniffles every few seconds. She cards her fingers
through his curls, and Harry closes his eyes, letting himself pretend for just
a few beautiful moments that they are Louis’. She doesn't’ smell like Louis,
though. She doesn't feel like him. She isn’t Louis, of course. He may never
see Louis again. That thought brings even more tears to his eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Mom. I’m sorry for never tellin’ you. I’m sorry for tryin’ to
kill myself. I’m sorry for disappointing you and drivin’ Dad away. I’m
sorry for puttin’ you through this. I’m so fuckin’ sorry.” His apology ends
on another sob. He can feel his mom shaking her head, seemingly too
choked up for words. He can still feel the alcohol in his system, and he just
wants to go to sleep. As if reading his mind, his mom speaks.
“Love, stop apologizing. There is nothing to be sorry for. You are a

wonderful son. Your dad left because he is a terrible person and never
wanted to be a dad. I’m sorry for not being a good mom over the years, but
I promise I am trying to change that. I hope you’ve noticed. I love you,
Harry. I always have. Now, let’s get you home,” she says, moving to stand
up. Harry allows her words to warm him, like a fireplace on a cool day, the
chill leaving his skin somewhat. He’s not alright. He doesn't know if he will
be alright, but he does believe her. She has shown him that she is trying,
and she does love him.
Harry’s winces when his blood soaked arms pull away from her dress, the
blood having dried his skin to the material. She looks down, grabbing her
discarded cardigan and placing it directly on the still bleeding wounds. He
doesn't really want to go home though. Home is supposed to be where your
heart is, but his heart is with Louis. He doesn’t know where Louis is,
though. Louis has disappeared, vanished like a shadow in the complete
darkness. Everything is dark now. He doesn’t know how. He still doesn't
know if he wants to, but he is going to have to survive without the sun.
Chapter End Notes
If you ever need someone to talk to, my DMs are always open.
National Suicide Hotlines:
Argentina: +5402234930430
Australia: 131114
Austria: 142; for children and young people, 147
Belgium: 106
Bosnia & Herzegovina: 080 05 03 05
Botswana: 3911270
Brazil: 188 for the CVV National Association
Canada: 1.833.456.4566, 5147234000 (Montreal); 18662773553
(outside Montreal)
Croatia: 014833888
Denmark: +4570201201
Egypt: 7621602
Estonia: 3726558088; in Russian 3726555688
Finland: 010 195 202
France: 0145394000
Germany: 08001810771
Holland: 09000767
Hong Kong: +852 2382 0000
Hungary: 116123
India: 8888817666
Ireland: +4408457909090
Italy: 800860022
Japan: +810352869090
Mexico: 5255102550
New Zealand: 0800543354
Norway: +4781533300
Philippines: 028969191
Poland: 5270000
Portugal: 21 854 07 40/8 . 96 898 21 50
Russia: 0078202577577
Spain: 914590050
South Africa: 0514445691
Sweden: 46317112400
Switzerland: 143
United Kingdom: 08457909090
USA: 18002738255
Sound of Silence
Chapter Summary
I'm still sorry

Chapter Notes
This chapter could also be triggering. DM me on Twitter if you are
unsure. Thank you

with the emotions/theme of the chapter. I chose the Disturbed version
of this song because it's amazing.
And the people bowed and prayed

To the neon God they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said, "The words of the prophets are written on the subway
walls
And tenement halls"
And whispered in the sounds of silence- Disturbed
When Louis sees a giant sign that reads ‘Reclaiming Rainbows’ with a
depiction of Noah’s Ark and a rainbow ahead of him, his stomach rolls. He
has been in the car for about three hours now, or at least that's what the
clock on the radio is telling him, and Mark has been mostly ignoring him.
After an hour long diatribe from Mark, and what he knows was most
definitely a panic attack, he has managed to sit up in the backseat however
he has no idea where they are or in what direction Mark has driven them.
He does not recognize anything, and they have been on backroads in the
middle of nowhere for the better part of the last hour. He bites his tongue
yet again, stopping himself from singing along to the hymns that are still
blaring through the speakers of the car. He knows them all by heart, but he
refuses to sing the words he no longer believes.
He just feels mostly numb. As if he has accepted his fate of not being able
to tell Harry how he feels or communicate with Harry at all for the
foreseeable future. He already misses him. Misses holding him. Touching
him. Being near him. He pulls his shirt up to his nose then, breathing in
Harry’s scent. It helps calm him a bit, almost being able to convince himself
that Harry is with him, but it also intensifies the gut wrenching feeling in
his stomach of not being able to be near Harry or see him. He glances at the
clock on the dashboard. Harry will be arriving at graduation right about
now, probably realizing Louis isn’t there. Another pang of sorrow goes
through his heart with that thought. He has no idea how Harry is going to
react to his disappearance. After everything Harry has been through, he is
going to think Louis doesn’t love him and chose his faith over him. That’s
not the case at all, but Louis can’t tell him that. He blinks back more tears,
not wanting to cry again. He thinks Mark gets some sort of sick satisfaction
from it. He hates Mark. He hates him with everything he has.
“We are almost there. There is no sense in running. You won’t make it far.
We are surrounded by miles and miles of dense woods. The closest
civilization is thirty miles away,” Mark informs him, snapping Louis out of
his heartache for a moment. Louis looks at him, but doesn’t reply, feeling
even more sick at the idea that he is basically being kidnapped by his step-
father. He tries to ignore the hurt in his chest caused by his mom doing
nothing about it, just allowing it to happen. She just looked detached. They
keep driving down a winding dirt road, each ‘Reclaiming Rainbows’ sign
making the anxiety twist his gut tighter. He tries to focus on his breathing,
not wanting to have another panic attack, but it feels like the car is a prison.
He has a sick feeling that whenever he is going will be even more so.
The vehicle comes to an abrupt stop after a further five minutes, the
momentum flinging Louis forward. He puts his hands up just in time to
avoid smacking his face off the back of the headrest, but it still hurts. He
looks out the back window to see a fence closing behind them. What the
actual fuck. It seems Mark has parked the car in front of a building with a
sign that simply reads ‘Office’. Mark gets out of the car, a moment later
coming to Louis’ door and yanking it open. His hands are on Louis before
the younger man has time to react or pull away. He roughly yanks him out
of the car, slamming the door behind them. Without releasing his firm grip
on Louis’ arm, he pulls him inside, Louis wincing in pain. Louis tries get a
look at his surroundings but doesn’t see much. Just a large building, a few
smaller ones, and a tall fence with barbed wire circled around the top, a
river on the other side.
“Welcome to Reclaiming Rainbows, how may I assist you today?” A man

says from behind the counter, a country lilt to his soft voice. He is wearing a
shirt with their logo printed on it and a pair of unflattering khaki shorts. His
smile is far too wide for his face, and his eyes almost look dead, as if
someone extinguished the light from them. Louis is immediately creeped
out by him, but he just continues to smile as Mark drags him inside.
“About two hours ago, I spoke to Dr. Joseph Thompson about my son. He is
a close, personal friend of mine and said he would let you know that we
were coming. I’m Mark Tomlinson,” Mark tells him with a smile, not even
bothering to introduce Louis. Louis watches as the man goes from polite to
shocked. He covers it quickly, stuttering out an apology and pointing them
in the direction of Dr. Thompson’s office. Louis feels the grip on his arm
tighten as he is pulled down the hallway. A moment later, they are at a door
that reads ‘Dr. Joseph Thompson, PhD’. Louis still doesn’t know where
they are, but he is a bit shocked by the title.
“Mark! Mark, come in!” A man greets him as soon as Mark opens the door,
wide smile on his face, but he just looks... off. His hair is dark and cut
relatively short, not a crew cut like Mark’s, but not as long as Louis’ and
definitely not as long as Harry’s. He has a dark beard on his face, peppered
with gray throughout, and he is wearing glasses. He stands to shake Mark’s
hand, his lean frame rising from the seat. Louis feels very uncomfortable,
both men ignoring his existence as they exchange greetings. Mark lays a
firm hand on Louis’ shoulder, pushing him down in one of the chairs sat at
the opposite end of the desk then he takes the other. Louis crosses his arms
and rolls his eyes, his stomach churning.
“It’s been a while. I’m sorry we had to meet again under these
circumstances,” Dr. Thompson says, his tone sounding as if they are
together because someone has died, not because someone came out as gay.
Louis rolls his eyes again, scoffing. Mark glares, but Louis doesn’t give a
fuck anymore. What is he going to do to him? He has already fucking
kidnapped him and brought him to a place that Louis doesn’t even want to
consider the purpose of.
“I am too, but you can help him, right?” Mark asks, and again, Louis gets
the feeling that someone is dying. Louis isn’t dying, though. He isn’t
fucking sick. He just likes men. He loves Harry. He doesn’t need help. He
needs to go back home, attend graduation and go to college with Harry.
Louis probably should regret telling Mark, but he doesn’t. He simply
couldn’t live that lie anymore. He couldn’t leave his house having to
pretend to be another person for the sake of someone who so obviously
doesn't give a fuck about him. Mark just made him so angry when he said
those things about Harry, about him. Louis feels sick even thinking about it.
“Of course, we can. Everyone is heterosexual. The idea that someone is

naturally gay is just a social construct. It’s the new fad, like skinny jeans or
Iphones. He isn’t naturally gay; he is choosing to be. Here we will resolve
the issue and put him back on the path of his natural heterosexuality,” Dr.
Thompson starts, folding his hands on the table and just speaking to Mark.
This man is a doctor, and he is saying these things? How is that even
possible? How can he go through years of schooling and believe it? Does
that mean Louis should? Then the realization strikes Louis like a match
being lit; Louis feels like he is going to throw up. Holy fucking shit. Mark
didn’t.
“Did you bring me to fucking straight camp?” Louis asks, the sentence
leaving his lips before he can even attempt to stop it. He can't keep the
shock and outrage from his voice. He had a suspicion, based on the name,
but he knows now. Mark took him to straight camp. Holy shit. Yes, Louis is
for sure going to be sick again. He can feel his stomach churn, the knots
becoming tighter. This can’t be happening. His own step father, who
supposedly loves him, has kidnapped him and brought him to straight camp.
“Young man,” Mark chasties followed by an apology to his friend. Louis

bites his tongue, refusing to offer them any kind of courtesy, as he tightens
his arms over his chest, needing to feel protected somehow. His skin feels
raw and itchy, as if it has been exposed to the sun for a long period of time.
He just wants to leave. He wants to be with Harry, in his warm arms. He
wants to feel his slightly wet kisses on his cheeks. Louis’ eyes prickle with
his wish, but he refuses to cry. He just hopes Harry is okay. He hopes his
favorite person didn’t jump to conclusions when he saw Louis had gone
missing.
“No. Not straight camp. It is called reparative therapy because we are

repairing you to your natural state of being. You will no longer have the
influences of the outside world that say it is okay to be gay. It isn’t okay. It
is against nature and against God, so we are here to set you on the straight
path,” Dr. Thompson explains, and Louis scoffs, again. He doesn’t think the
Doctor meant the pun, but it was still there. It reminds him of the Bible
verse Harry cited as his favorite on Thanksgiving. Fuck. That seems like
forever ago. So much has happened since then. Louis fell in love, and he
didn’t think it was wrong. He still doesn’t.
“You can fuck right off with your ‘reparative therapy’ shit,” Louis spits,
using four fingers to put quotation marks around the words. He can feel his
temper rising, replacing the anxiety in his gut. He will not stay here
allowing these people to ‘repair’ him. “I’m nineteen years old. You can’t
force me to stay here against my will. It’s called kidnapping you crazy
fuck.”
“Louis. May I call you that?” Dr. Thompson asks, his smile far too wide.
Louis doesn’t say anything, wanting desperately to punch him right in the
fucking face. He tightens his fists under his arms, keeping them there.
“Louis. You are mentally ill. We will do what is necessary to ensure that
you are not a danger to yourself or society.”
“What are you gonna do when I get out? You can’t keep me here forever. I
will go to the police and say you kidnapped me,” Louis threatens, feeling
the anger rise his system, his body beginning to shake with it. He thinks that
maybe he can get out of this because of a legality. They will surely get shut
down if the police know they are willing to kidnap innocent people. He is
old enough to make his own decisions, and he doesn’t want to be here.
“By the time you are finished with therapy, you will be so thankful that we
he have helped you through this that you will have no intentions of going to
the cops. As I have said, you are mentally ill and a danger to yourself and
society,” Dr. Thompson repeats, the words giving Louis chills and making
bile rise in his throat. They don't care. They don’t care if it’s illegal and they
actually believe that Louis will not want to go to the cops. Holy fuck. What
the fuck do they intend to do? It can’t be that bad, right?
“I’m not danger to myself or society, though. I’m fucking gay. There is
nothing wrong with that,” Louis insists, cutting off the ‘Doctor’. Louis isn’t
sure how this man received a PhD in whatever. Harry’s pinky toe is smarter
than him, but the fact of the matter is, they are keeping him here against his
will. It is called kidnapping, and it is illegal. Louis thinks about what he
said though. Even if he did go to the authorities when he gets out, they
could easily say that Mark lied about Louis’ age. They may get away with a
slap on the wrist, and that thought makes Louis ill. Mark will be in some
trouble, but he is well recognized among his peers in the military, there is a
chance that they can just sweep it under the rug. The justice system in
America is so fucked up, and Louis doesn’t have much faith in it.
“It is that train of thought exactly that makes you a danger to society and
yourself. There is something wrong with it, and that mentality is why you
need help. You are toxic to those around you. Your unnatural ways will seep
into your family like a poison, polluting them and everything else around
you. We need to put a stop to it, and that is what we are going to do. You are
sick, and you need help. We will do what is necessary for the greater good
of the world. It’s not kidnapping. It’s helping you not harm others or
yourself.” Louis can’t believe this guy, his words washing over him like
black tar, clinging on to his skin, solidifying so that he can’t fucking move.
He feels like he can’t breathe. He isn’t leaving. They aren’t going to let him
leave.
“Thank you for taking him on such short notice. I knew we had to act fast
as soon as he started defending that heathen. I didn’t think it was this bad,
though. I didn’t think that boy had defiled and corrupted him so much,”
Mark says, and Louis’ head snaps back to him, hate now flooding his
system. He fucking hates him so much, it hurts to breathe. His face sickens
him. He never wants to see Mark again, for the rest of his life. As Niall
would say, if Mark were on fire, Louis wouldn't piss on him to put him out.
Not even if his bladder were about about to burst with the need. Fuck him.
Fuck him and his stupid fucking religion.
“He has a name,” Louis says, his voice coming out almost broken. He hates
it. Both Mark and Dr. Thompson look at him as if he has two heads or they
didn’t quite understand him. Louis clears his throat, deciding to try again,
anger giving him fuel. “His name is Harry. He isn’t just ‘that boy’. His
name is Harry Styles, and I love him more than I love anything else in this
world.” Louis’ voice is firmer this time, looking directly at Mark, almost
defiantly. He can’t do anything about Mark leaving him here, but he can
fuck right off if he thinks he is going down without at least somewhat of a
fight.
“Now you see the severity of the situation.” Mark gestures towards Louis
with the wave of one large hand, as if what Louis just said could be used as
a symptom to a disease. In their minds, it is though. Louis rolls his eyes so
hard, he sees through space and time, Harry’s voice playing in his head. All
of the conversations they have had about religion over the last few months
flooding him at once.
“Well you are just in time. A new cohort came a few days ago and began
their therapy yesterday. They are getting ready to go to lunch then their
group therapy. I will go and grab one of the counselors to show you around
while they eat, get you some clothing, those types of things, then you can
join the group therapy session. Don’t worry, Mark. He is in good hands. We
will have him back to you in a few months completely stripped of all of his
unnatural tendencies,” Dr. Thompson assures him, giving Louis a sick
smile. Louis swallows the lump in his throat, nausea returning in full force.
He should be hungry since he hasn’t eaten anything for a few hours, but he
doesn’t think he could keep it down at this point. Not for the first time, he
wishes he could get a message to Harry. He wonders what he is doing. He
glances at the clock on the wall.
Graduation is probably in full swing right about now, each person walking
across stage with their stupid hats, tassels dangling. That should have been
Louis, but no, Louis was robbed from that by someone he thought loved
him. Louis should be walking across stage, smiling up at his mom. He
should be patting Niall on the back, high fiving Liam, and giving Harry a
secret kiss, murmuring words of pride in his ear when no one is paying
attention. He should be reassuring Harry that he won’t fall and egging on
Niall’s desire for one last senior prank. He isn’t though. He hopes Harry
didn’t fall and knows how proud Louis is of him for graduating, for
surviving. Maybe he will go out to an early dinner with his family. Louis
hopes so. He hopes he is okay.
_____________
“Okay everyone. You may have noticed we have a new face among us.
Please welcome, Louis. We are going to go around and introduce
ourselves,” Adam says, looking around at everyone in the circle. Louis rolls
his eyes and crosses his arms. Adam just gave him a tour of the facilities
along with a list of rules about seven miles long. Most of them were just
fucking stupid. No masturbating. No drugs or alcohol. Sexual relations of
any kind are strictly prohibited. Then the list goes on and on, each one
accompanied by a passage from the Bible giving reason as to why that rule
was a rule. It conveniently missed a few other rules. Louis is currently
wearing a blue button down shirt and shorts which breaks a rule of the
Bible, but they seemed to have forgotten about that.
He was pissed when they asked him to give them his clothing. They were
Harry’s clothes, and he didn’t want to part with them. He refused, but when
the man called for someone hold him down to be stripped, Louis relented,
not wanting them to rip or tear Harry’s clothes. He may get them back after
all of this. He also didn’t want these people to touch him where Harry’s
fingers were only a few hours ago. He didn’t want them to see his skin or
the marks Harry left behind that would surely fade. They are the only things
he has left of Harry at the moment. Nothing else, but they will be gone
soon. Louis just feels raw from it, having to stifle more tears at the very
thought.
Louis nods his head at the other five boys in their small circle as they state
their names and ages. Alarmingly, at least three of the group seems like they
want to be there. One even going as far as to proclaim thankfulness to the
camp and counselors who allowed him to join them because he is ill. They
are going to help him. It makes Louis feel actually ill. Next they come to
the boy Louis is sat beside. Louis hasn’t even bothered actually looking
around at the faces of the people he is going to spending the next however
long with, but at the sound of a young nasally voice, his head snaps up.
“I’m Ashton. My friends call me Ash, which doesn’t include most of you.
I’m sixteen, but will be seventeen soon, and I very much believe this place
is utter horseshit. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk,” Ashton says, with
a smirk, a dimple in his left cheek popping, making Louis’ entire chest
ache. He immediately reminds Louis of Harry. He has sandy blonde, curly
hair and greenish-hazel eyes. He also has something about him that tells
Louis he would probably dress more on the ‘rocker’ side if he wasn’t forced
to wear their ridiculous get up. Louis snorts in response to the guy’s words
nodding his head. Ashton looks at him and winks. Louis doesn’t think it’s
flirting, but another pang hits his chest again, stabbing him straight through
his barely beating heart.
“I’m Louis. I’m nineteen, and I fucking second that,” Louis agrees, smiling
at Ashton, deciding then and there that he likes the younger boy, but not in
the same way he likes Harry. He wants to be Ashton’s friend. There is only
one boy for Louis, and he is his home.
“You know cussing is against the bylaws. If you do it again, I will be forced
to punish you,” Adam chastises, his voice scolding. Louis has seen a lot
about punishment in their bylaws, but it never says how they will punish
them. Louis doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t think they would do
anything violent. Mark wouldn’t take him to a place where they would
actually hurt him, would he? So, Louis and Ashton both just roll their eyes.
Louis watches with a bemused expression as Ashton crosses his arms over
his chest, sitting back in his chair and propping an ankle on his knee. “Now
Louis, since you are a day behind, you can sit and listen at first. Basically,
yesterday, the group was asked to find their root. A root is the reason why
you have homosexual tendencies. Most of the time, it involves your parents
exposing you to incorrect gender norms or the absence of a father figure in
your developmental years.”
Louis keeps his mouth firmly shut, not wanting to give this annoying fuck
any information about his personal life, but what if he’s right? What if
Louis is gay because he didn’t have a father figure during his
developmental years, then was subsequently surrounded by women? It
sounds like there could be fact based in that reasoning. The thought is
fleeting because a moment later, the voice in his head, Harry’s voice, argues
back. Pointing out the fact that Harry is gay when he had both a proper
father figure and was not surrounded by just women during his
developmental years. Louis shakes his head, trying to concentrate on the
conversation flowing around him.
“I’ve been thinkin’ a lot ‘bout it, and I think my root is the fact that my
mother made more money than my father when I was growin’ up,” Tucker
says, using his hands to gesture his words. Louis remembers him as the guy
that had his legs crossed at the knee but was told not to sit like a ‘lady’ by
Adam in the beginning of the meeting.
“Very good, Tucker. That makes perfect sense. You did not see proper
gender roles growing up, your parents allowing you to believe that women
could be the breadwinners of the household. Everyone, please clap for
Tucker because he has found his root.” Ashton and Louis are the only two
that don’t clap as Tucker smiles at the rest of the group. Adam continues,
“Now that we know your root, it will be easier to address your homosexual
tendencies. Ashton, have you thought about your root?” Adam’s eyes come
to land on the boy beside him.
“Oh yes, Sir. I have thought about it all night long, Sir. Hours and hours of
long, hard thought and deep reflection,” Ashton starts, his tone very serious,
as he places one long fingered hand over his heart. Adam leans up on his
chair, giving Ashton all of his attention. Louis is curious, too. He can’t tell
if Ashton is joking or not. If he is, he is great at keeping a straight face, pun
intended. After a few more moments, Ashton continues, “My mother wore
pants to church.” His features do not betray his sarcasm, but Louis almost
snorts again. He puts his hand over his mouth, ‘scratching’ his nose to cover
his bemused smile.
“Oh that is very interesting, and could certainly be the cause. Did she wear
them to every service?” Adam asks, and Louis can’t believe the dumbass is
buying this.
“Not every one. Only on days she had to work before or after,” Ashton tells
him, his tone still serious, his eyes wide with fake honesty.
“Oh and she worked on Sundays! You poor thing. It is no wonder you have
homosexual tendencies,” Adam responds, his hand going over his heart, his
voice soft and lilty. If Louis had to hear the words ‘homosexual tendencies’
one more time, he may throw himself in the fucking river. “Everyone clap
for Ashton, he has found his root.” The boys clap, Louis included, but more
as a round of applause for the fact that Ashton clearly tricked Adam.
“I have homosexual tendencies ‘cause I like cock,” Ashton murmurs to

Louis, and Louis has to cover a laugh with a cough as they move on to the
next person. Louis stops paying attention to the ‘root’ discussion after that,
not wanting to start believing in the bullshit. He thinks about topic far more
interesting, like which tree matches the shade of Harry’s eyes or if cereal
should be considered a soup. Then his brain goes to darker thoughts like
what if he never gets out of here? What if Harry can never forgive him?
What if he never speaks to him again?
“I am so proud of all of you for finding your roots so quickly. It took me a

while to find mine. I know this may come as a shock to you all, but I am an
ex-gay.” Louis snaps out of his inner turmoil to the sound of Adam’s
proclamation. He can hear a few gasps around the room, Ashton’s being so
loud, it’s comical. He knows Ashton isn’t actually shocked. From the
moment Louis met Adam, he could just tell that Adam was gay. His own
gay-dar lighting up like a fucking holiday tree, as Harry would call it. “Yes.
I know, it’s shocking, but I feel like I am able to share. I was in your very
same seat a few years ago. My parents brought me because I was ill. I am
so thankful everyday that they did because the treatment worked. I have
been free of homosexual behaviors for over two years now.” Louis almost
scoffs, the man acting as though it is some disease. While Louis can kind of
see the reasoning behind the idea that some developmental behaviors led to
homosexuality, he still doesn’t view it as a disease. He doesn’t even know if
he agrees with their psychology.
“My root was the fact that my parents didn’t start going to church until I
was about seven years old,” Adam explains, and Louis freezes again. He
didn’t start going to church until Mark came into the picture, so around that
age. Again, Louis is starting to wonder if it really could be a factor. If all of
these things lead him to being gay. He shakes his head again, trying to free
it of the insane thoughts. He focuses his attention back on Adam who has a
notebook in his hands.
“Louis, do you have any thoughts on what your root may be?” Louis feels
like there is a spotlight on him at Adam’s question, words caught in his
throat. Should he lie? Should he say he has no idea what his root could be?
He thinks it is bullshit, but it is an interesting concept. Could there really be
a reason why he is gay that could be traced back to his developmental
years? Would that explain everything? Before Louis can stop himself, he is
blurting out the truth.
“I didn’t have a father figure when I was really young. After my stepfather
came into the picture, my mom and I started to regularly attend church, then
he and my mom had four girls, no boys. I’ve been around girls my entire
life,” Louis says, his voice barely above a whisper. Is he more flamboyant
because that is all he knows? Raised by only his mother during his
formative years then being surrounded by all things feminine afterwards
could affect someone's outlook on the world, right?
“Oh my! So you had all of the cards stacked against you. It’s no wonder
you have so many unnatural impulses. Your psyche is probably messed up
from all of those years of being surrounded by improper gender norms and
not having a father figure,” Adam says, and Louis wonders if Adam has any
kind of counseling experience at all. Louis would guess that he doesn’t. He
was probably trained by Dr. Thompson, but that still doesn’t stop the long
spindling fingers of doubt from clutching on to his brain, pressing into his
cerebral system like a tumor. Louis barely registers the sound of his groups
mates clapping, nodding their heads to Adam’s words. Ashton is giving him
a funny look, as if wondering if Louis truly believes it. Louis isn’t sure.
Harry’s voice is arguing with their logic, but he can see their reasoning
behind it. A psychologist is the one saying these things, for crying out loud,
that has to mean something, right? There has to be some sort of evidence to
it, right?
“Great group session today. Now, onto your next assignment,” Adam
begins, holding up the notebook. Louis almost forgot it was in his hands.
“When you go back to your dorm tonight, you will find a notebook. In this
notebook, I want you to record every sexual experience you have ever had
with a man. You must include even thoughts of homosexual activities and
the first time you started noticing this abnormal attraction. Write all of the
stories accompanied with your sexual experience. Where you were. What
you were doing. How you were feeling at the time then afterwards. You will
all be sharing it with the group next time. Now, off to supper.”
Louis gasps at Adam's words, choking on air, resulting in him coughing and
spluttering. He cannot be serious? He just can't. He wants them to tell the
group every sexual experience and desire he has ever had? No. No way. He
can’t possibly make them. But Louis knows this is non negotiable and his
heart rate begins to sky rocket. Talking about these things with Harry was
one thing, but with a group of total strangers is another entirely. He will
pollute and demonize every amazing experience of love that Louis ever had
with Harry. He just can't. As if sensing that Louis is spiraling, Ashton
begins to speak, snapping Louis out of a new whirlpool of panic.
“So how did you end up here when you’re nineteen?” Ashton asks, as soon
as they all stand up, walking in the direction of the door. Louis glances over
at the other boy, curiosity in his hazel eyes. Louis doesn't know exactly
where he is going, so he just follows everyone else as they make their way
outside. He and Ashton hang back a few steps, so that they can talk. He
thinks about the question for a moment, unsure of where to start. The
beginning of events that led him here was the first day of school when one
curly haired boy flipped him off for staring. Louis decides that the whole
story would be far too much, so he elects to tell him just the events that led
to him going to straight camp.
“Well, I spent all night last night with my boyfriend after prom. When I
came home, my parents confronted me, knowing I wasn’t with my fake
girlfriend. When Mark, my stepdad, called Harry a child rapist ‘cause all of
the fucking people in town told him the rumors that Harry was gay, I
fucking snapped. I told them that I was gay, and that I thought religion was
bullshit. The next thing I knew, Mark was forcing me into a car and
bringing me here. I know it’s illegal, and I pointed that out to them. They
don’t seem to care though,” Louis recounts, having a hard time believing
that was literally just this morning. It feels like so much time has passed
when, in reality, it has only been a handful of hours. Just a few hours ago,
he was kissing Harry goodbye, feeling his lips on his own. Louis’ eyes start
to sting again from the onslaught of emotion. Fuck. He just misses him.
“Ouch. That’s rough,” Ashton responds with a low whistle. “My parents
just caught me with my dick down my boyfriend's throat. They were
shocked, and pulled him off by his hair, then before I knew it, I was here.”
Ashton shrugs, as if he is talking about the weather. Louis figures that is
how his parents would have found out if he hadn’t told them in the heat of
the moment. He should regret telling them, especially since he wound up
here, but he doesn’t. His only regret was somehow not getting a message to
Harry before he left. He doesn’t want Harry to think that he chose his
religion over him, but he has a sinking feeling in his gut that is exactly what
happened, though.
“Does he know where you are?” Louis asks, as they walk into the dining
hall. Harry doesn't know where he is that is probably what is hurting him
the most. A couple of dozen people are already inside, sitting down to eat
their meals. None of it looks appetizing, but Louis thinks he needs to eat
something, so he grabs a tray.
“Luke? Yeah. He knows. I told him as soon as my parents told me that they
found somewhere that could ‘help’ me. I didn’t wanna come, but they
didn’t really give me much of a choice. I didn’t think it would be that bad
though, so I told Luke. He said he would wait for me,” Ashton responds,
putting half an ear of corn on his plate, then moving on. “Does Harry
know?” Ashton glances over at him, as if he already knows the answer to
the question. They make their way to a table, sitting down opposite each
other. No one is sitting around them, yet, so that is at least a plus.
“No. He has no idea. Mark busted my phone before I could even text him or
any of our friends. He doesn’t know where I am, and the worst part is that
he probably thinks I ran away from him after he wrote me a poem that most
likely told me he loves me. I didn’t get to read it, but I think that’s what he
said. Anyway, yeah. He doesn't know, and I’m really worried about him,”
Louis admits, biting his lip to prevent himself from telling Ashton about
Harry’s past. Louis’ throat is burning, and he quickly goes to wipe away his
tears. Ashton's eyes are wide and sad, as if he understands.
“I’m sorry about that. I wish there was something I could say to make it
better, but there isn’t. I hope he’s okay though,” Ashton responds, putting a
warm hand on Louis’ shoulder, squeezing it. Louis feels a bit better just
from saying some of his fears outloud to Ashton. He already sees Ashton as
a friend, and he may be the only thing that will help Louis get through this
whole ordeal.
“I know. Thank you. I just need to get back to him. I need to tell him how I
feel. He doesn’t know, Ash. He doesn't know that I love him. He doesn’t
know anything because I didn’t want to tell him due to my own fear of
scaring him off. I wish I would have told him. Maybe things would be
different. Maybe he wouldn’t be falling apart right now.” Louis whispers
the last words, mind going to images of Harry having a panic attack on his
bed over this. He doesn’t know if that’s happening, but he can’t stop the
images from forming, bringing more tears to his eyes. He just wants to
fucking explain. Harry trusted him, and Louis broke that trust by
disappearing. It wasn’t his fault, but Harry doesn’t know that.
“Hey. None of that,” Ashton says, getting up from his seat to sit beside
Louis, wrapping him in a warm hug. Louis holds onto him, enjoying the
warmth of someone. He needs it because he feels so fucking numb. Ashton
doesn’t smell like Harry, though. He doesn't feel like him either. He isn’t as
broad, but it’s something. I does help the coldness that has been seeping
into his bones since Mark threw him in the car. He tries to stop his tears, but
they are still falling freely, being absorbed by the fabric of the younger
boy’s shirt. “I know it’s hard, but you will get out of this. We will get
through it together, then you can go back to him. You can explain
everything. He will forgive you, I know it. I can tell just by the way you
talk that he loves you even though it wasn’t said. I know this is ironic, but
have a little faith.”
Louis giggles into Ashton’s wet shirt at his words. He sniffles a few times,
trying to let the sentences wash over him. Ashton’s right. Harry will forgive
him. He just needs to survive this. He just needs to keep Harry in mind. He
needs to remember their conversations, and how much he loves him. He can
do this. “Harry would be making so much fun of some of the shit that was
said in therapy right about now. He’s logical to a fault, but I love him for it.
He’d like you,” Louis mumbles, head still buried in Ashton’s chest. He
means it. Harry would love Ashton’s sarcasm and sense of humor. Louis
already knows it.
“No touching allowed,” a firm voice says, prompting Louis and Ashton to
jump apart as if burned. They turn around to find one of the camp
counselors glaring at them with his hands on his hips. They mumble
apologies as Ashton goes back to his seat.
“So what’s the deal with this place?” Louis asks, glancing around to make
sure no one is listening in. The guy who yelled at them has wandered off to
to different part of the cafeteria, his hands behind his back strutting around
as if he owns the place. He reminds Louis very much of the roosters that
take up residence in Niall’s back yard. Louis hates those stupid birds.
“I’ve only been here for a few days, but they watch us 24/7. They have
security cameras everywhere, and there is never a time during the day that
someone isn’t, at least, watching you. One of the other guys who has been
here a bit longer says they keep all of the keys to the vehicles and padlocks
in a safe in the office. The only person that has the key to the safe is Dr.
Thompson, from what I’ve heard,” Ashton informs him, his voice low as he
glances around, taking a bite of his baked beans.
“Are we really surrounded by miles and miles of woods?” Louis asks, his
brain trying to find any possible scenario where they get out of this. He
knows it’s illegal for them to keep him here, but they don’t seem to care
about the legality of it all. They think what they are doing is justifiable in
the eyes of their Lord, and that is all that matters. Didn’t he and Harry have
a conversation about this recently?
“Yeah. We are. I kind of know the area, though. My dad and I used to camp
around here. I kind of knew this place was here though. I think we stumbled
on it once or twice, but I thought it was just like, a summer camp. It’s
completely surrounded by a tall fence,” Ashton tells him, grimacing down
at his overcooked pork chop. Fuck. It feels like they are in prison. He
thought his parents’ house was prison, but this really is one. He’s trapped.
“So you know the area?” Louis asks, hope filling his heart for the first time
since he was shoved in the damn car. He doesn't want it to. He doesn't want
to get his hopes up, but fuck, it’s so hard when things felt so hopeless
before. There could be a way. He could get back to Harry. If he were to do
that though, he would essentially be choosing Harry over his family. He
hates that he is forced to make that choice, but he would also be choosing
his happiness. Who he is.
“Kind of, but we would have to find a way to escape first. I don’t know how
that will happen with them watching us. It would have to be on foot, and
that’s one a hell of a hike. We’d also have to get to the fence and get over it.
It’s not an electric fence, but it’s tall, most areas has barbed wire around the
top, if not all. They usually catch people before they can even start
climbing,” Ashton whispers, but Louis can tell he is kind of into the idea.
Louis’ brain whirs with the new information, trying to come up with any
possible plan. He looks around, but they really are being watched. There
have been at least two pairs of eyes trained on them at all points in time so
far. Fuck. He has no idea how they will do this, and it may take a while.
They spend the rest of dinner telling each other about themselves. Ashton is
actually from an area not far from Louis and Harry. Louis wonders if he
goes to the same school as Logan, but he doesn’t want to ask because then
Ashton will want to know why. Ashton will be seventeen at the beginning
of July, and Louis makes a mental note to try to keep up with the days
enough to wish him a happy birthday. He learns that Ashton has two
younger siblings, one funnily enough called Harry. Not to his surprise,
Ashton does like rock music, being very jealous of Louis’ experience at the
Metallica concert. By the end of dinner, Louis has a very strong urge to
protect Ashton, much like he feels with Harry.
Shall we gather at the river,

Where bright angel feet have trod,
With its crystal tide forever
Flowing by the throne of God?
Louis is surprised when all of the camp counselors begin singing the old
church hymn. He looks around confused. Ashton is looking at him
apologetically, and Louis wonders what the fuck is going on. The song
continues as two sets of strong hands grab his arms, forcing him from his
seat. He looks to Ashton, who opens his mouth in explanation, but doesn’t
get the chance because the next moment, Louis is being forced outside.
On the margin of the river,

Washing up its silver spray,
We will talk and worship ever,
All the happy golden day.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Louis asks, watching as all of the camp
counselors gather around him, continuing to sing as they pull him towards
the fence, a small river just beyond it that runs along the east side of the
camp. Dr. Thompson unlocks the three padlocks that secures the small
opening to the rest of the fence, the crowd still singing behind the fence.
Louis watches as he pockets the keys, the only thing standing between
Louis and his freedom. Five men pull Louis through the opening, shutting it
quickly behind them while the other counselors stay behind, making sure to
the keep the rest of the campers in line.
At the smiling of the river,

Mirror of the Savior's face,
Saints, whom death will never sever,
Lift their songs of saving grace.
The remaining campers are also gathered to watch. He spots Ashton who
has his fingers threaded through the links. He mouths, ‘I’m sorry’ as Louis
is pulled closer to the river. He protests again when he feels hands on the
buttons of his shirt, undoing them to reveal his heaving chest. The person
says nothing as they hold him still and strip him bare of all of his clothing.
He feels exposed, all the eyes of the camp on him as they hold on to him,
not allowing him to cover his body in any way. His skin is hot with his
embarrassment, but he can do nothing to shield himself from view. The
marks Harry left on full display, the marks only meant for his and Harry’s
eyes. Louis swallows, trying to keep his breathing regular, but his red tinted
chest still heaves.
Soon we'll reach the silver river,

Soon our pilgrimage will cease;
Soon our happy hearts will quiver
With the melody of peace.
They finish singing, the sudden silence making his ears ring as the humid
air licks at his skin. He tries not to think about the fact that he is standing
naked amongst dozens of people, or the fact that his naked body is being
touched by someone other than Harry. He blinks, trying to rid his eyes of
the tears that are coming. Tears that have never seemed to cease since he
left Harry's side just this morning. He bites his lip, wanting the numbness
from before back. He needs to get through this. He has to get through this.
“What are you doing?” Louis asks again.
“We are cleansing you.”
“I don’t need to be cleansed. I took a shower with my boyfriend last night

after I fucked him, thank you very much,” Louis responds, spitting the
words at the person still holding him firmly. He hears the shocked gasps of
some of the camp counselors, but he doesn’t care. He may end up being
punished for it, but fuck it. He feels so exposed and raw in the moment, he
needs to fight. If he doesn’t fight, he will cry. He can’t cry. He can’t let
them see that they are getting to him, so he bites the inside of his cheek,
standing straighter as he looks them in the eyes. Louis almost kicks out
when one of the counselors bends down, removing his shoes and socks.
“You will be punished for your sins later,” one of the men threatens,
grabbing Louis’ arm and pushing him into the muddy water. Louis hisses
when the cold water touches his balls, shocking his system. His body
immediately begins to shiver, every muscle clenching as chillbumps erupt
on the surface of his skin. He barely has time to regain his footing when
three men surround him, one he recognizes as Dr. Thompson, another being
Adam. Dr. Thompson gets behind him while Adam holds on to one of his
arms, his grip much firmer than Louis was expecting. Another man that
Louis doesn’t recognize is holding his other arm with one hand, the other
reaching towards the sky, as if attempting to touch the hand of God himself.
Louis tries to fight, but all of them hold him firm, not letting him move at
all.
Amazing Grace! how sweet the sound

That saved a wretch like me
I once was lost, but now am found
Was blind but now I see
“Christ today, we are baptizing this Child of God, cleansing his spirit so that
he may walk the path of righteousness to salvation. So that he may enter
into the Kingdom of Heaven free of all sins,” the man on his left yells, his
words ringing over the haunting sound of Amazing Grace coming from the
voices of the people along the riverbank. Fuck. They are baptizing him.
Despite his faith, he has never been baptized, his mom telling him not to do
it until he was sure of the decision he was making. The logical voice in
Louis’ head, Harry’s voice, is telling him everything is fine. It’s just water,
but to Louis, everything isn’t fine. He always saw baptism as giving your
life to the Lord one final time. He had planned to get baptized when he was
finished getting his attraction to men out of his system, using it as a way to
commit fully to God. Old habits die hard, so he can’t stop his mind from
thinking that this is it. Once he is baptized, it means that he is giving his life
to a God he used to believe in. A God that failed him.
Through many dangers, toils, and snares

I have already come
'Tis grace that brought me safe thus far
And grace will lead me home
“May the water created by your holy hand cleanse his body of his sinful
acts and purify his soul of all his misdeeds.” Louis’ breathing is becoming
more erratic, each exhale coming out in a short, sharp huff. His limbs are
shaking. He doesn’t want this. He doesn't want to be ‘clean’. He doesn't
think he needs to be ‘purified’. He wants to go home. He wants to be with
Harry. He doesn't want to feel so betrayed by his family. He can’t stop the
tears from coming now, as he begins to fight, but his arms are held firm. He
cries out as their grip only tightens, his pleas of ‘stop!’ and ‘please, please
don't do this to me!’ lost amongst the continuous chorus of the campers
around him. He can’t even wipe his eyes as he continues to listen to the
song that has been ingrained into his mind.
When we've been there ten thousand years

Bright, shining as the sun
We've no less days to sing God's praise
Than when we first begun
“Before God and his children, I baptize you in the name of the Father…”
The Preacher exclaims, face now red with his words. Louis’ scream is
muffled when one large hand clasps over his mouth and nose, stopping him
from taking in a breath. The wet silt slips from beneath his feet, as his entire
body is quickly submerged, forced rapidly under the murky water. Louis
closes his eyes tight as the water washes over him, the fading light
penetrating through it and his eyelids. He opens them back up when he can
feel himself being pulled through the surface once more.
Amazing Grace! how sweet the sound

That saved a wretch like me
The cold shocks his system again, feeling as though the breath was ripped
from his chest, not that he could breathe anyway. “The Son.” He coughs
and splutters, but the preacher doesn’t let him take a breath as they immerse
him again, his tears joining the dirty water surrounding him. He didn’t get a
chance to close his eyes this time, all he can see is the murky water, the
round globe of the sun barely shining through. He doesn't feel its warmth
though. He wishes he didn’t feel anything, but he does. He can no longer
stop his tears, but no one will notice them since he is now soaked to the
bone. Cleansed. He can feel their hands on him, gripping his flesh hard,
probably leaving bruises. He misses the way Harry’s hands felt and the
marks he left for a different reason. As they pull him up the second time, his
skin is dripping. The air hits him, making him feel even colder and more
exposed. “And the Holy Spirit!” The preacher yells, then he goes under
again, for the third time.
I once was lost, but now am found

He emerges for the the final time, attempting to blink the disgusting water
from his eyes. He thought he would feel different after being baptized. He
thought the world would stop turning, but it hasn’t. He hears the last words
of the song he knows by heart being sung, and he realizes that nothing has
changed. He isn’t cleansed. He feels defiled. Ironic really, given that it's
apparently part of the reason he is here in the first place. But Harry never
made him feel this way. Harry never stripped him of his dignity, deprived
him of his autonomy or made him feel as though he’d never be clean again.
Harry loves him. He still loves Harry. He still wants to be with Harry.
He can feel hands clapping his back, as if they are proud of him for doing
something he didn’t want to do in the first place. With shaking limbs, he
trudges through the water, shivering as he waits for Dr. Thompson to open
the gate for him. He could run while he is outside of it, but he doesn't even
have shoes on. They are all watching him. He wouldn’t make it far. When
he slips through, he find Ashton on the other side waiting for him with an
open towel. Louis takes it, first using it to wipe off his face, rubbing it
though his hair.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t warn you. I didn’t think they would do it since you just
came today and missed the actual ceremony yesterday,” Ashton apologizes,
and Louis can feel another warm towel being wrapped around his shivering
shoulders. Louis just nods in response, too numb to think of actual words.
He has been baptized now. He still has some part of him that believes in
God because he can’t stop thinking about how this is the end for him. How
it has solidified his place on the path to salvation. He shakes his head,
attempting to dislodge the thoughts from his mind. He thinks of Harry. Of
what Harry would say about all of this. Maybe he would tell him it’s just
water. Water created by nature with no devine hand in sight. Maybe he
would say that they just got him wet. Maybe… just maybe.
Chapter End Notes
Before some of you say "Well Louis is an adult, they can't make him
stay", you are correct, but they don't really care about that. All they
care about is the fact that he is sick in the eyes of their Lord. I hope I
was able to show that in the chapter. If you don't think that this
happens in real life, then do some research. Look up the story of
Garrard Conley who was 19 and sent to straight camp by his family.
Also, if you think Dr. Thompson words are a little extreme, again, do
some research. I found one psychologist, who was the leader of a
straight camp, saying these exact same things. Just because you don't
believe something, doesn't mean that others won't.
Anyway, if you would like to discuss this more, please DM me.
Kudos and comments are always welcome. If you would like to follow
me or DM, my social media is below. Thank you for reading!
Can You Feel My Heart
Chapter Summary
I'm very sorry

Chapter Notes
unsure. Thank you

Can you help the hopeless?

Well, I'm begging on my knees
Can you save my bastard soul?
Will you ache for me?- Bring me the Horizon
Harry wakes with his head feeling as though it is being split open with a
machete. He groans and rolls over, memories of yesterday flooding his
mind. He remembers mostly just puking everything he has eaten for the last
ten years into the toilet, his mom holding his hair. He thinks Robin and
Gemma were there too, but he doesn’t remember what they were doing. He
doesn’t even know why he was drinking to begin with. He groans again
when feels a stinging on his arms, but he doesn’t know why. That would
involve opening his eyes, and that just seems like an impossible task at the
current moment. What time is it, even? He really needs to open his eyes
though, and probably find his phone. He needs to text Louis. Louis.
With that thought of Louis, Harry’s eyes pop open, and he sits up in bed,
much too fast for his churning stomach. He screams out in pain when it
feels like an ice pick is being jammed through his eye sockets. He quickly
shuts his eyes again, grabbing his head with one large hand, peeking
through his fingers down at his arm. He sees that his arm has been
bandaged, barely a hint of redness showing around the white dressing. He
cut last night. He begins to panic, memories from the night before returning,
playing through his head like some kind of fucked up montage in a horrible
horror movie. Calling Louis over and over again only to be sent straight to
voicemail. Running back to his old house and breaking in. Flashes of blood
and whiskey, the way it felt as it burned his throat and the sting of the knife
as it sliced his skin. The sadness and desperation. He was going to kill
himself. He wishes he did because his heart feels like it is going to stop any
moment with the memories.
His mom showed up. He can almost see the look of fear in her eyes, just as
haunted as his own. They argued. He came out to her. Fuck. He came out to
her. He was so fucking cruel, wanting his words to slice her, but she stayed.
She stayed, and she talked to him. His head pounds as the tears come to his
eyes, her words echoing around the room as though she is there with him
right now. She said she loved him. She said Louis does, too, but how could
Louis love him then leave? Different memories begin flashing through
Harry’s mind now, the night of prom. Louis’ words washing over him like a
cooling balm.
God didn’t allow you to live. You did. You won. Every single time to you
take a breath, you show that you won against Logan and against the
preacher. You are pure, Harry. So pure.
Those aren’t the words of someone who didn’t love Harry. Those aren’t the
words of someone planning to leave, but the poem. Harry gave him the
poem. That really could have changed things. Louis could have panicked
and left. Couldn’t he? Even after the night they shared when he fucked
Harry bare. The marks he left on Harry’s skin as he worshipped his body.
How could that have been a lie? Louis is a good liar, but is he that good?
Harry runs his fingers through his curls, pulling hard, begging the memories
to stop as he begins to rock back and forth, fat tears hitting the comforter
around him. He can’t do this.
“Harry?” Harry’s attention snaps up at his name being called from the
doorway. Robin is standing there, looking in on him. Harry tries to cover
his face, not wanting Robin to see him like this. He is sure Robin was
around last night, but he doesn’t really remember. If Robin sees, he may tell
Harry to pack up his shit and leave. Kick him out. Harry probably deserves
it after everything. That probably what his dad would have done if Harry
wasn’t thirteen at the time. Instead, he just decided to leave. “I came to
check on you. Are you okay?”
You are loved by a lot of people, and every single one of us would be
devastated if you choose to end your life today.
“No,” Harry answers truthfully, him mom’s words floating through the
room only for him to hear. He feels the bed dip a moment later, Robin’s
warm hands on his good arm, pulling it down from his face. Harry relents,
not having the strength to fight. He sniffles, using his hand to wipe the tears
and snot from his face before he looks at Robin. The other man looks
concerned, but not angry. Maybe he won’t kick Harry out. Maybe he does
love him, somehow. “I’m not okay.”
“I brought you some aspirin and water. You must have a hangover from
hell,” Robin says, forcing a chuckle from Harry’s chest. He gives Robin a
small smile, taking the aspirin and water from his hands. He takes the
medication, drinking the full glass of water despite his stomach’s rebellion.
“It’s 7am on Sunday, by the way.” That answers Harry’s next question.
Fuck. The last thing he truly remembers was graduation, which happened in
the afternoon. Sometime along the way he lost fifteen plus hours. Shit.
“My mouth taste like ass. Not even good ass,” Harry replies. It’s Robin’s
turn to chuckle at Harry’s remark, Harry dramatically smacking his lips
together to prove his point. It really does feel like cotton is occupying it, the
water doing nothing to restore some of the moisture. Great, now he is
thinking about Louis’ perfect ass. No his mouth doesn’t taste like Louis’
ass. Louis’ ass is far too good for the grossness that is currently happening
in his mouth. Another wave of sadness washes over him, more questions
than answers running through his head.
“How much of yesterday do you remember?” Robin asks, the question

hesitant. More memories from the previous day surface. Harry throwing the
almost empty bottle of whiskey at the wall, the pieces shattering around
them like fireworks. He was so angry and sad. He still is, but mostly he
feels almost numb with it all. As if his body can’t understand what he is
going through, it kind of shut off. It’s happened before. After the first time
he tried to kill himself, he almost felt the same. Letting the numbness take
over his being. It stayed. That was until Louis showed up, and slowly but
surely Harry started to feel again. Now he wishes he never did.
“Some of it,” Harry admits with a sigh, looking down at his arm picking at
the bandages. With each passing moment, more comes back to him. He was
so fucking drunk. He hadn’t been that drunk since the first time he tried to
kill himself. After that, he tried to stay away from drinking alone, only
doing it if he was hanging out with Niall or at the few parties he went to
with Louis. He is sure the alcohol didn’t help his spiraling thoughts
yesterday.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” Robin asks next. Harry doesn’t know how to
answer, so he just keeps staring at his bandages, picking at the medical tape
stuck to his sensitive skin. He thinks it was Gemma who wrapped it up. He
remembers her kind brown eyes while she did it. “Look, Harry. Your mom
told me some of what happened, not everything. I understand you think
Louis left you because you told him in a note that you love him?”
Harry’s breath stops. Hearing it summarized like that, from someone else, is
just strange. He isn’t used to people openly discussing his and Louis’
relationship. His mom said they knew yesterday, though. At least, he thinks
he remembers her saying that. Everything feels foggy and disoriented, as if
he is watching his own memories through a dirty window. She must have
talked to Robin when they got home. Harry was pretty fucked up. He barely
remembers Anne helping him through the doorway, his staggering steps
almost making them both fall over. Robin rushing over to him, taking him
into his room to help him remove his dress clothes, leaving him in just his
underwear, which explains why Harry is currently shirtless.
“He did leave me ‘cause I told him that I loved him in a poem,” Harry
mumbles, not looking Robin in the eye. He can’t. He just came out to him,
too, even though Robin already knew. He probably knew before Anne even,
if Harry is being honest with himself. He had to. He got them a hotel room
with just one bed, for crying out loud. No matter how close bro-pals are,
they don’t typically share a bed. Harry just chose to ignore that fact, not
wanting to see that Robin knew. That he has known probably since the
moment he met Louis at the choir concert. Fuck. That seems like forever
ago.
“Harry, I know it’s hard for you, but what would you think if you took
emotions out of the equation? If you looked at it from an outside
perspective?” Robin asks, and Harry pulls at his hair again. His head hurts.
He can’t think about this logically. How the fuck is he supposed to do that
when his heart feels like it’s breaking with each new beat? He can’t look at
it from an outside perspective. This is Louis. This is love and sometimes
love isn’t logical. He takes a deep breath though, concentrating on the
question. His head is pounding and his arm is stinging, making everything
that much more difficult.
“The only conclusion I can come to is that he left me because I told him I
loved him. He chose his faith in God over me,” Harry says, his voice
cracking with the words, new tears coming to his eyes. Louis chose God.
Harry shouldn’t be surprised, but he is. He just thought that after what he
had said about God the night of prom, that maybe Louis was finally starting
to see the flaws in his belief system. That maybe he didn’t really believe in
God anymore. Harry was stupid and naive, yet again. Stupid for laying his
trust in another person’s hands. He hates himself.
“Okay. Let’s start from the beginning. Your mom and I know that you and
Louis came here after prom. When did he leave?” Harry tries not to think
about prom night because it is far too painful. Everything he told Louis. All
of the sweet and comforting words Louis said in return, that turned out to be
a lie. They were a lie, weren’t they? He knows what Robin is trying to do.
He is trying to get Harry to examine the situation from a logical
perspective. Harry bites.
“We woke up the next morning. I made him breakfast, then he left,” Harry
responds, the memory of Louis trying to steal a piece of bacon and Harry
smacking his hand away floating through his mind. He can almost feel the
wet kiss Louis landed on his cheek with a smirk afterwards as his small
hand squeezed Harry’s hip. Harry shakes his head, needing the memory to
leave and never return.
“Okay. That sounds pretty normal to me. Was he on his phone at all?” Harry
thinks about the question, forcing himself to recall that morning. Louis
looked so beautiful in the early morning light, wearing Harry’s too big
clothes. It did something to Harry, Louis wearing his clothes. Made him feel
as though he had some kind of claim on him. He was wrong, of course. He
knows that, now. Harry never had a claim to Louis. Only God did. God
should fucking rejoice because Louis isn’t one that should ever be released.
He sure enough slipped through Harry’s fingers like the smoke from a pipe.
“No. He didn’t really even touch it. I think he was too afraid to look at it
‘cause he was supposed to be home at midnight, but he obviously wasn’t.
They were probably blowing up his phone trying to contact him,” Harry
admits, looking down at his hands. He didn’t blame Louis for that one bit. It
had to give him some kind of anxiety, knowing that he was going to have to
go home and lie to his parents. What if he didn’t lie to them though?
“What happens when you try to call him?” Robin asks next, his brows
knitting together in confusion. Harry understands that. He is confused, too.
Harry knows exactly what happens, though. He had tried to called Louis at
least sixty three times, to be exact. His heart dropped every single time the
voicemail answered, though. Niall and Liam even tried to call him before
the graduation ceremony, they got the same result.
“Goes straight to voicemail without even ringing. Like he has his phone
turned off,” Harry answers, feeling hopeless again. How is he even
supposed to talk to him when Louis has shut him out? He can’t even
explain. He probably should have told Louis in person, so when he freaked
out, Harry would know his decision. This uncertainty is what is killing him
most.
“Or maybe it’s broken.” Harry’s eyes widen at that comment. He didn’t
even think of that. Robin continues as if he didn’t just shake some of
Harry’s beliefs on the situation, “Is it like Louis to run from things? You
know him better than probably anyone. Is this normal for him? Is he the
type to run when he is struggling with something?” Harry recognizes
Robin’s tone. It is the same one Harry uses when he is discussing religion
with Louis. It is neutral, calculating.
Harry opens his mouth to answer but stops because he isn’t really all that
sure. His headache is beginning to go away, making it easier for him to
think. He tries to recall a moment when Louis has ever ran from something
difficult. The more he thinks about it, the more that he realizes Louis hasn’t.
Louis usually takes difficult situations as a challenge. He certainly never ran
from Harry, even when Harry did everything in his power to push him
away. He didn’t run when Harry had a panic attack in the back stairway or
any of the times they had their discussions on religion even though Louis
was clearly upset. No. Louis always talked to Harry about it, so why would
this be any different? “No. This isn’t like him,” Harry answers on a breath
because it fucking isn’t.
“So why would he just leave this time? Do you really think he wasn't aware
that you loved him Harry? I mean, think about it logically. You have been
seeing him probably most of the year. Anyone with eyes can clearly see that
he cares for you and you for him. Would he actually leave without a word?
He didn’t say anything to Niall or Liam, right? If he was a coward,
wouldn’t he have told one of them to tell you?” Harry’s head is spinning,
the questions hitting him so hard he doesn’t know up from down.
He thought he was sure that Louis left because he chose his faith, but what
if Robin is right? Louis isn’t stupid. He had to know that Harry’s feelings
ran deep. Harry even thought Louis was actually going to say that he loved
him the night of prom a few times. He doesn’t know what stopped him, but
would he have really just ran after Harry’s admission? Robin also made a
good point. If Louis had really been a cowards, and scared of his feelings,
then wouldn't he had told Liam to break it off with Harry. Wouldn’t he had
communicated with someone rather than just disappearing?
“I don’t know,” Harry responds, his own brows creased in thought. He
looks at Robin, his mouth open in shock. He doesn’t want to get his hopes
up. He is telling himself not to, but he can feel the optimism flowing
through his system. He gets slammed back down to reality when his next
question hits him. “What else could have happened?”
“I don’t know. Just… something doesn't feel right. Anne tried to call Jay,
but she keeps getting her voicemail. Her phone rings though, which means
it’s not turned off. She has also texted her but hasn’t gotten a response.
Something just seems weird to me. Like it doesn’t add up, Harry,” Robin
says, and Harry can tell he isn’t just saying it to make him feel better. Harry
begins to really think about it logically. Robin’s right. It doesn’t add up.
Louis would never do something like that, and in the light of the day
without the panic coursing through his system, Harry knows that. After
everything they shared and the words Louis had said. They have gone
through so much together, wouldn’t he have ran by now?
“One last thing. I know I've bombarded you with a lot, and your head must
be all over the place considering you mainlined almost an entire bottle of
Jack by yourself,” Robin starts, and Harry cringes at his words while Robin
chuckles. His stomach rolls at the mention of his friend Jack, threatening to
lose the medicine and water he just ingested. Harry knows he is trying his
best to make light of the situation without taking away the severity of it, and
he finds he appreciates it. “I won't even try to say that I know what you
must be feeling, or what it is you are going through because I don’t. I never
will, Harry, but your mom and I feel that this can't wait. More to the point
your mom doesn't want to repeat the same mistakes she made last time, so
she asked me to talk to you.” Robin sounds hesitant for the first time during
the conversation. Harry’s attention snaps to him, his mind still racing with
all of his unanswered questions.
“Would you consider going to therapy? I know it seems fast given what
happened only happened yesterday, but I don’t think you ever properly dealt
with what happened to you when you were younger. I don’t think you or
Anne did, honestly. You have lived through something very traumatic, and
you were never given professional help to deal with it. A part of that is on
Anne. She is aware of that, and she knows that she did wrong. You
shouldn’t have had to live with it by yourself. I think it was bad for both for
you in different ways, but I’m not making excuses for her. Anyway, I’ve
already talked to your mom, and she has agreed to go as well, either with
you or separately. She just wanted me to talk to you about it because she
wasn’t sure she could convince you.”
“But I don’t want to die anymore,” Harry responds, shaking his head. He
really doesn't. He did yesterday. He’s still sad. His heart still feels like it’s
breaking, but now that he has talked to his Mom and Robin, he doesn't want
to die. What if Robin’s right and Louis didn’t just leave because he chose
God over Harry? Harry isn’t going to base whether he lives or dies on that
alone, but it is something to consider. His mom is also right. There are
people who care for him, and people he cares about. He didn’t really want
to die. He was just very drunk and very depressed. Thinking about it
logically in the light of a new day has given him some perspective.
“I know, but I still think you should go see someone. Talk about things. It
could help. Maybe give you some coping mechanisms so your first reaction
isn’t to hurt yourself. Please, just consider it? Like I said, Anne wants to.
She thinks it would be good for both of you, and I agree with her. We love
you, Harry. We all do, including your friends. They were worried sick about
you last night. Gemma called Niall and told him what had happened. Not
everything, but that we found you. He said he would tell Liam. You are so
loved. We just don’t want to see you hurting anymore. We don’t want you
to hurt yourself anymore.” Robin pats Harry on his bare leg, giving him a
small smile as he gets up from the bed. “Now, your Mom is making some
breakfast. Gemma is already awake. Why don’t you take a shower and
come join us? Think your stomach can handle it?”
Harry nods dumbly as he watches Robin leave the room. Niall and Liam
were worried about him. His Mom wants to go to therapy with him to work
on their relationship. Harry knows he needs better coping mechanisms. He
had them, for the most part, until yesterday when everything spiraled. He
feels stupid and almost embarrassed about yesterday. He shouldn’t have
reacted that way, but he did in the heat of the moment. It also didn’t help
that he just went to drink and cut, but the more drunk he got the more
depressed he became which lead to him wanting to end it. It’s not an
excuse, but it’s something.
His body protests violently when he gets up from his bed. His stomach rolls
at the thought of food, but he wants to go to breakfast. He wants to talk to
his mom and Gemma. He wants to try to apologize for what he put them all
through. For what he put them all through, again. He feels ashamed, but he
can't take back what happened or what he said to his mom. He grabs his
phone, it vibrating instantly with unanswered messages from all of his
worried friends. He takes another few moments to prepare himself for the
breakfast that won't wait for him, and sends Niall and Liam a quick
message while also responding to Willow and Tara. His head is spinning as
he gingerly walks to the bathroom, well it’s more of a stagger, but not just
from dehydration and his still present headache. He slowly steps into the
very same shower he shared with Louis not even two days ago, but it feels
like forever. He thought the idea would hurt him, but it doesn’t, not like it
did before. The pain is quickly being replaced with worry. Worry over
Louis and the idea that something could have happened. Something that
wasn’t his choice. Something life changing.
_____________
Dear Diary,
That is the proper way to start these stupid things, right? I have no idea.
I’ve never written in one, but Harry always said that writing his thoughts
and feelings down helped him. I’m in dire need of help right now, so I
decided to give this a try. It can’t hurt. Can't hurt anymore than I am
already hurting.
They don’t know about this, the ‘counselors’, so I need to keep it a secret.
I’m sure they would absolutely murder me if they found out. I’m just scared.
I haven't seen Harry in a week, and therapy has been brutal to say the least.
Each day, it seems as if Harry’s voice is fading away, and I just don’t know
what to do. Next week, we are supposed to recount all of our sexual
experiences with men in therapy. Every single thought, feeling and action. I
don’t want to. It makes my stomach churn just thinking about it, even
though I have been writing them all down like I was supposed to. It feels so
wrong, but what choice do I have?
During group therapy yesterday, I was forced to pretend Adam was Harry. I
was told to scream at him as if he were Harry. I had to tell him that I hated
him, and I didn’t want anything to do with him anymore. I had to say
terrible things to him and call him names, all while Adam encouraged me.
The worse the things I said became, the happier he seemed to get. I told him
that I hated what he did to me and my family. That we were torn apart
because of him. I told him that I should have never let him near them. I
didn’t mean it. Not one word, I swear, but at the time… oh God. At the time,
I almost believed myself. It's almost like every inch of this evil place is
worming it's way into every bone, cell and fiber in my body, taking over like
some kind of cancer. It’s downright fucking brainwashing is what it is, and
the worst part is, I'm terrified that it's working.
What kind of person am I? How could I let this happen? Everyday I feel
even more confused. I’m just so lost and alone. I don’t seem to know what is
right or wrong or know what to do anymore. Before, I would talk to Harry
or Mom about it, but I can’t here. I’m not even supposed to be thinking
about Harry, and I don’t know if I can ever forgive Mom. Not after all of
this. She didn’t even try to fight for me. She didn’t even try to stand up to her
husband for her son. What kind of mother would do that? Why did she let
him take me and put me in this Godforsaken place? A place where I
question my very existence, nevermind my sexuality or faith. Where I
wonder if I should even be alive. The longer I stay here the more these
thoughts spiral in my mind. I can't sleep for thinking maybe ending it all
would be easier. Maybe ending it all would take all of this pain and misery
away once and for all. But then I think of Harry, and how, even though he
tried to end it all, he fought, and he lived. Lived so that he was around to
meet me, so that we could be together. I cry every night before I fall asleep
and awake to dreams of him. Every breath I take is for him.
I need to get out of here. I need to get Ash out of here, too. He has been my
only saving grace. He reminds me to keep fighting, and what I am fighting
for. He is like a little brother to me, and it kills me to see him go through all
of this too. They made him scream at ‘Luke’ yesterday as well, the same
way I had to scream at Harry. He was crying afterwards, rambling that he
didn’t mean it. He begged me not to tell Luke that he said those things. I
understood him. My heart hurts for him, but I understood because I pray
that Harry never hears what I had to say either. He is a lot like Harry. He
doesn’t like it when people see him cry, but all I could do was hold him and
promise him that everything would be alright. A promise that I can’t keep
because I'm not sure that it ever will be. I told him we would get out of this,
that we would make it out together, but I feel like all I'm doing is giving us
both false hope.
This place is killing us. Before, I felt I knew who I was, and now I’m not so
sure. We are trapped like animals. This place is surrounded by dense woods
and a fence that is probably electric knowing these people. Ash assures me
that it’s not, but I don’t know. If we are caught sneaking out, I don’t know
what the repercussions would be, but I know they wouldn’t be good. I can’t
just let us get up and walk out, not when Ash’s life is on the line, so we’ve
come up with a plan. We can hear a train not too far away, at almost the
exact same time every night. Ash swears it’s no more than a mile from here.
The trains that run on that track sound like they are moving pretty slow, so
we figured we could run away one night, hop the fence, and hike to the train
tracks. When one comes, we will jump on it, as long as it isn’t moving very
fast. It doesn't matter where it takes us, so long as it's the hell away from
here. We can get off when we see civilization and try and work out a way to
get back home. I don’t even know if I have a home to go to. Ash definitely
doesn’t. I figured we could stay with Robin and Anne until college starts,
that's if they will have us. I don’t think they would turn us away after I tell
them what happend. I just hope Harry forgives me.
I know it’s not the best plan, but we are desperate. A lot is riding on Anne
and Robin offering us a place to stay. We are both homeless if we leave. I
don’t even know if I can handle seeing my Mom, even though I miss her and
my sisters. Anything is better than this hell. If we die in the woods, then we
die. We have been sneaking non perishable food from the dining hall and
stashing it, so that we will have something to eat for at least a few days. We
can’t sneak it out very often, only one or twice a week because we are afraid
we will raise suspicions. I will take care of Ash though. Nothing will happen
to him while I am still alive and with him. I promised him that. I can’t let
him down like I have let my family down. Like I have let Harry down.
Louis stops writing when the tears are blurring his vision far too much for
him to make out the words anymore. He knows it is time for lights out. He
was pretending to be writing in the notebook they gave them for their log of
sexual thoughts. He technically is. He has just been ripping out the pages
quietly once he is finished writing them, and stuffing them under his
mattress. They won’t notice if a few pages from the notebook are missing,
surely. Louis looks around, smiling at Ashton as he very gently pulls the
pages from the metal rings. He winces as it makes a ripping sound, but the
person that is supposed to be guarding them tonight isn't there yet. Small
favors.
“Good night, Lou. Sweet dreams,” Ashton says with a wicked smirk. He
knows Louis dreams about Harry most nights. They are almost always
sexual. Louis made the mistake of telling him, plus Ashton sleeps in the
next bed over, so he can probably hear Louis’ moans. The guard can’t really
hear them, just see them. He sits in a separate room with a window looking
inside. He has to make sure they don’t masturbate or have sex with each
other. Ashton and Louis are the only boys that seem to be there against their
will, though. Well from their cohort, at least. Ashton is cute, but Louis
doesn't want him like that. No matter how much he reminds him of Harry.
That would be like having sex with Liam or Niall. Wrong on so many
levels.
“Fuck off,” Louis responds with a laugh, flipping Ashton off. Ashton
pretends to catch it and stick it down his pants, blowing Louis a kiss. They
both burst into giggles, the other boys around them shooting them strange
looks. Louis really doesn’t like any of the others. They think they are so
much better than Louis and Ashton because they somewhat chose to be
here, even though they didn’t. Most of it was their parents telling them they
had to. No their parent’s didn’t kidnap them, but they did give them an
ultimatum of sorts.
“Look I know y’all desperately want dicks up your asses, so you stuck a
stick up there instead, but kindly remove it. You all need to loosen up,”
Ashton tells them making Louis laugh harder. Louis clutches his stomach, a
different kind of tear streaming down his face now. Sometimes, you have to
find the humor even in hell. It is the only thing that gets him through the
day most of the time. That and his desire to find Harry and explain to him
what happened. Explain to him that he loves him, and he didn't leave him
by choice. He feels like a yoyo most days, the doubt creeping in, but he
always seems to make his way back to Harry.
“Boys. It’s lights out,” Terry says, glaring at Louis and Ashton. He has
hated them ever since Louis and Ashton found a little garter snake outside
and put it in the guard station right before his shift. He can’t prove that it
was them, but he had his suspicions. Louis has never heard such a high
pitched scream in all of his life, and he has four sisters. It was hilarious,
especially since some of the other counselors are not convinced that it
wasn't the Devil that was after Terry. Louis would feel sorry for him, but
then he remembers that Terry was the one that forced Ashton to do
hundreds of push ups for refusing to beat at some blankets and pillows with
a belt, while being told it was Luke. Thankfully they haven’t made Louis do
that yet, but he knows they will.
Louis stops laughing and gets under the light covers. They are scratchy, but
it’s so hot, Louis usually ends up throwing them off anyway. He guesses
that air conditioning is against God’s creation, or maybe they are practicing
for Hell. Either way, he has trouble sleeping even though the activities of
the day are mentally and sometimes physically grueling. They usually get
woken up around 5am to the screams of counselors telling them to get out
of bed, then they are forced to do exercises while the counselors scream
harsh words at them. Afterwards, they all pray then shower, then pray
again. He’s got it down to a science at this point. He rolls over on his
stomach, falling asleep fairly quickly.
Louis slowly removes his fingers, sensing Harry is wanting to change

positions soon. When Harry pulls out of his mouth completely, Louis gasps
for air, sucking in what he was deprived of in large quantities, but already
missing the taste of Harry on his tongue. Harry turns around so that he is
on his knees between Louis’ spread legs. Louis just wants to be fucking
touched, but it doesn’t seem like Harry is going to do that anytime soon.
Harry bends his head, taking a nipple into his mouth. Louis moans when he
bites down a bit, his dick now impossibly hard. Harry’s lips trace a path
from Louis nipples all the way up his chest and neck, finally landing on his
lips. “Can you be quiet?” Harry whispers, his nose touching Louis’, the
words ghosting over his lips. Louis nods even though he isn’t entirely sure
he can be quiet. He knows he has to, or they will wake everyone in the camp
up and that… well that is just not an option.
Harry forgoes the condom, a spark of excitement pulling at Louis’ navel

from behind. He will finally get to feel Harry’s come in side of him. He
shoots Louis a look as if asking ‘this okay?’ It’s more than okay. He has
wanted Harry bare inside him for so long, he couldn’t imagine him actually
using a condom. He wants to feel him. He wants to watch Harry’s come
trickle out of him and down his leg when he sits up. He wants the reminder
that Harry did something to him that no one else has ever done.
Louis nods. His dick is now throbbing, and he needs Harry inside. The next
moment, Harry is leaning over him on one arm while he uses the other to
line himself up with Louis’ hole. Louis bites his lip to hold back his moan
when Harry begins pressing in, his hips slowly meeting the curve of Louis’
ass. He finds Harry’s bicep, gripping hard over the newly healed tattoo.
Just thinking about it makes precome spurt from his dick, smearing onto his
smooth stomach.
“Move, Harry. Please,” Louis begs, and Harry leans down to kiss him
sweetly then he begins moving slowly. Holy fucking hell. This is exactly
what Louis wanted. Harry inside of him, scraping against his walls and
nudging his prostate in the best of ways. Harry swallows his moans with his
mouth while Louis’ hard length is caught between their stomachs, providing
just a tiny bit of friction, but it’s not enough to tip the scale.
The only sounds in the room are the slap of Harry’s hips as they meet Louis’
ass, their lips coming together in desperate kisses, and a few moans that
escape in between. Louis is gripping Harry’s bicep like a lifeline as Harry
slowly thrusts his hips and circles them before thrusting again and again.
Fuck. Where did Harry learn all of this? Louis wants to scream in pleasure
but he can’t, or he will wake up the whole damn camp. He settles for letting
Harry swallow his moans with his lips and leaving bruises on Harry’s pale
skin. Bruises that will hopefully be there for days that people may see.
“You’re so fucking deep. Fuck, Harry. So deep,” Louis rambles, his raspy
voice barely above a whisper as his eyes roll back into his head from the
sensation. Louis’ head is spinning, and he knows when Harry is close
because his hips start to lose their steady rhythm, just fucking into him more
quickly, his pace becoming ruthless. Harry breaks their kiss to bury his face
in the crook of Louis’ neck, biting down hard probably trying to suppress a
scream as his entire body tightens then shudders around him while he
comes inside Louis, with no barrier between them.
Louis wakes up with a hiss, his hips rutting against his mattress. He quickly
stops, whimpering from the loss. His dream felt so real this time, Louis
almost cries. He misses Harry, and he needs to come. His dry hole clenches
around nothing, even though it felt like Harry was in him just moments ago.
Louis turns over, hoping that maybe taking the temptation of the mattress
away will help him. He looks down to find his pajamas tented over his
erection. He groans. It’s not the first time, but his balls are actually hurting.
He doesn’t know if he will be able to go back to sleep. He looks around,
coming to a decision.
He bites his lip to hold back his hiss as he slowly slips his hand down his
pants, taking his hard dick in one hand. He looks at the guard room, but
Terry seems to be asleep on duty. He barely suppresses a moan when he
begins stroking himself, pictures of Harry floating through his mind as he
chases his release. Harry’s puffy red lips, exactly how they look after he
sucks Louis off. Harry’s big ringed hands, his long fingers pressing against
his prostate. He closes his eyes, allowing more memories to flood his
imagination, pretending Harry is fucking him bare, like in his dream. Fuck.
He’s so close, he can feel himself beginning to tip.
He yells out when a firm hand grabs his own that is currently stroking
himself off. He fights, just needing two more good tugs to be over the edge,
but the other person is stronger, holding his hand firm. Louis can feel the
tears come to his eyes as Terry begins yelling for back up, the whole room
awake now with the commotion. All the boys are staring a him, his dick
still stiff and tenting his pajamas. He can feel his whole body heating up, as
more of the counselors come in, grabbing his other hand and his feet.
“What are you doing?” Louis asks, trying to fight again, but it’s no use.
There are now four men on him, holding him down. His eyes widen when a
fifth man comes, holding four black straps. No. They can’t. He begins
kicking again, yelling out, but more come to hold him down. He begins
crying, feeling helpless over the situation, his dick still throbbing in his
palms, untouched. He sinned, though. He was masturbating, and he knows
that is against the rules. Against God.
“You will not touch yourself, that is against the Lord,” the man Louis only
knows as the preacher says. Louis feels the men tighten the straps around
his wrist and ankles, effectively holding him to the bed. He can’t move at
all. He is crying harder, but it is only making things worse. He feels like he
can’t breathe, as if something is sitting on his chest. He can’t sit up though
to help ease it. He is trapped. He is trapped on his back.
“Oh Heavenly Father, we pray to you today,” the preacher starts, placing his
hands on Louis’ forehead. Louis tries to pull away, but he can’t with his
wrist tied down. “Flee from sexual immorality. Every other sin a person
commits is outside the body, but the sexually immoral person sins against
his own body. Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy
Spirit within you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, for
you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body.” Louis
recognizes it as a Bible verse. The one he has heard quoted at church. They
usually use the one about lusting after women, but that wouldn’t apply to
him.
After they pray, they just leave, Terry returning to his post. Louis continues
to cry, unsure of how long they will force him to sleep strapped to his bed,
so that he can’t touch himself. Not for the first time, he prays for home. He
prays for Harry who is his home. God hasn’t given him either wish though,
which means one of two things. Either God isn’t real, or God truly doesn't
want him to be with Harry. Louis isn’t sure which is worse at the moment.
___________
“So he seduced you on Easter?” Adam asks, stopping Louis again. Louis
bites his lip, trying not to roll his eyes. For the past week he has had to
watch all of his group mates go through this. Each day, a different boy has
had to get up in front of everyone else to recount every single one of their
sexual experiences with men. Today is Louis’ turn, and it seems as though
he has the most. Not surprising since he is the oldest among them. He didn’t
mind talking about his first time. Even he can admit that he regretted it. The
first time he allowed sin a victory. It is discussing Harry that is upsetting.
Talking about him like some pervert makes him feel sick, but if he doesn't
do it, they will punish him.
He already has to sleep with his wrists and legs bound to the bed, not being
able to move at all because he was caught masturbating. He wakes up with
sore stiff limbs, then he has to exercise. It is excruciating, and he hates
himself for giving into sin yet again. Being punished for that sin. Ashton
has been punished once as well, forced to stay in isolation for twenty four
hours when they felt he wasn’t being truthful with his experiences. He was
told he had to do it again. Louis hated that Ashton was left alone in a room
for so long. He has become protective over the other boy. Almost seeing
him as a younger brother.
Louis almost puked the first time he mentioned Harry’s name in their group
therapy in relation to their sexual experiences, talking about their first kiss
then the blowjob on Halloween. Adam actually gasped when Louis recalled
Harry pulling his fake halo from his head during said blowjob. Louis felt
like he was polluting his memories. As if telling these people is injecting
poison into something beautiful, tainting it to the point of being
unrecognizable. Spraying pesticide on a flower, watching it wilt away to
nothing. It’s beauty and radiance gone, replaced by something rotten and
shriveled. It's been two weeks since he has seen Harry. Louis doesn’t know
how long he will be here, but he feels like he should be counting the days
using notches on his bedpost. He also misses his family.
“He didn’t seduce me, but yes. I asked him to prom in the park that same
day. Afterwards we went into the woods,” Louis explains, trying to remove
himself from it. He has found that if he mentally separates himself, it is a lot
easier. If he discusses it as if he is talking about someone else, and not his
own experiences, he can cope a bit better. They are still his memories, and
Adam saying he should feel shame over them is probably the most difficult
part because Louis almost does.
“Louis, I know you don’t want to believe it, but you have to start seeing this
for what it is. He seduced you. He never loved you. He just wanted to defile
you in a place that God created. What would God say about this? What
would he say about you having sexual intercourse with a man on the day his
only son was resurrected then called to Heaven?” Adam asks, and Louis
freezes. He has never thought about it that way.
“I guess he would be disappointed that I took a day special to him and did
something against his word,” Louis answers, for some reason feeling
ashamed that he has disappointed God with his actions. He tries to recall
Harry’s words during their conversation that day, as well as his own
research about Easter, but it’s so difficult. It’s what Easter symbolizes, and
the fact that he besmirched it. God would be so disappointed in him and his
decisions.
“Exactly. Louis you need to stop romanticizing Harry. He is your Judas. He

is your downfall. You thought of him as a friend, but he betrayed you by
seducing your body and polluting your mind,” Adam says and Louis freezes
his brain whirring with that statement. Judas? Harry isn’t Judas. Judas was a
terrible person who betrayed a good man. Harry didn’t betray Louis, did he?
Adam seems to think he did, and his argument is almost valid. Fuck. Louis
stils himself, pushing that thought to the side. The voice in Louis head
reminds him that nothing Adam says in valid.
“Harry isn’t anything like Judas. Judas betrayed Jesus by giving him to the
Romans. Harry didn’t betray me,” Louis responds, his body hurting over
Adam’s accusal. Harry would never do something like that. If anything,
Louis betrayed Harry by just leaving. It may have been against his will, but
what does Harry think about it? Two weeks, and Louis hasn't heard his
voice or seen him. Louis has panicked a few times, thinking he was starting
to forget. He can’t forget Harry even though that’s what they want. That is
the whole point of them removing him from his home.
“The betrayal may be different, but it is still a betrayal. Is it really that much
different than what Harry is doing to you? He is giving you to the Devil to
be tortured. Harry is not your friend. He doesn’t love you. Not like God
loves you. If you had placed your love and trust in Jesus, a being far more
deserving, and not this child bred of the Devil, then you would not be here.
He wouldn’t have been able to contaminate your soul or corrupt your body.
If you had only loved and trusted God in the way that you love and trust
this heathen, then you may have been spared. Harry is working for the
Devil, and the sooner you realize that, the sooner you will be on the path to
salvation,” Adam says, and that has Louis pausing.
Harry isn’t evil. Harry isn’t malicious, but could he have been sent by the
Devil to tempt Louis? Louis, himself, has compared Harry to the apple in
the Garden of Eden, but Louis has no idea how to respond to the Judas
comparison, there is no voice in his head being logical about it. Harry’s
voice is silent, allowing more doubt to creep in. They have never discussed
Judas or Jesus’ crucifixion. All Louis knows is what his church told him.
Harry may not realize it, but the Devil really could have gotten into his soul
and pushed him towards Louis. If that was the case, then wouldn’t Harry
have sought Louis out? He didn’t. Louis feels sick and confused, as though
he just got off a roller coaster and his world is spinning. He doesn’t know.
“So umm… the next time I can recall, we snuck out after Harry’s mom’s
wedding, and went to Harry’s house. We got into the shower together.”
Louis takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second. They want details.
Adam wants him to go into graphic details. He has made it this far, but
something about that day seems special to Louis. He doesn't know what it
was but saying it in front of everyone is so fucking hard. He can feel his
cheeks turning red, almost as bad as when he had to describe their first time
to the class. The way the fireworks washed over their skin as the music
played in the background.
“Okay, why does this time stick out to you?” Adam asks, leaning forward in
his chair, like he has done so many times during this session. Louis
swallows dryly, looking around the room, finding all eyes on him. He can
feel his face getting hotter. He looks at Ashton, focusing on him. Ashton
smiles, his dimples popping, and Louis’ heart hurts. The more Louis has
gotten to know him, the more Ashton reminds him of Harry, but only in the
best possible ways. He is sarcastic like Louis, but he has great one liners
that reminds Louis of Harry when Harry began coming out of his shell. The
biggest difference is, what Louis feels for Ashton is platonic.
“Harry was really confident that day. He told me to put my hands on the
wall, then dropped to his knees behind me. He then umm-- licked-- umm--
he ate me out,” Louis feels like he is dying of embarrassment. He was
mostly fine discussing the first time he rimmed Harry, but this is different.
That was so much more personal and maybe it was because he knew he
loved him at the time. Maybe it was just the day, when they felt surrounded
by the love of others. He was able to pretend he was talking about someone
else, but this time is far more personal.
“What did he say to you?” Adam asks next, and Louis is definitely going to
throw up. Harry’s words from that day are seared into his memories. He
licks his lips, trying and failing to remove himself mentally from this.
“He said-- umm-- he said that Jesus wasn’t there, and I should worship that
instead. Then he told me I was the closest to heaven that he will ever be,”
Louis recalls, almost as if he can’t force himself to lie. He should feel
ashamed. He loved it at the time, but now he realizes how wrong it was.
How offended he should have been. He shakes his head, attempting to focus
on the faces around the room. Most of them look horrified by Harry’s words
except Ashton. Ashton looks like he may cry, as if he is touched by the
statement. Louis was at the time, but now he isn’t sure. Fuck. What are they
doing to him?
“Don’t you think that is a bit manipulative?” Adam questions, Tucker and
some of the others nodding in agreement.
“No,” Louis responds, on a breath, the word coming out almost hesitant
because he is unsure. He doesn’t know. He almost feels as though he is
being brainwashed, the repetition of each session and question permeating
into his psyche. He knows it’s happening; he just doesn't know how to stop
it. He begins shaking his head, recalling the memory. He is sure Harry
wasn’t manipulating him. Harry gained confidence, that’s all. He wasn’t the
Devil in disguise pretending to be this virgin boy with a dark past, right?
“I see. Hmm,” Adam says, not sounding convinced. Louis has the sudden
urge to scream at him, tell him that Harry is the love of his life, and he
would never do anything like that, even if Louis himself, is questioning that
statement. Adam is right about one thing, if Louis had put his love in God
then he wouldn’t be here, but he chose sin over God. At the same time,
Louis isn’t even sure God is real. He is so confused, he just wants to cry,
but no, Adam has to continue beating Louis with his words. “Have you
thought about what this is doing to your family.” Louis’ heart stops.
“Leave my family out of this,” Louis warns, his hands balled into fists
around the paper he wrote his indiscretions on.
“I can’t. You have to consider them in your sins,” Adam replies, and Louis
wants to punch him squarely in the face. The redness in his face from
embarrassment quickly transforms for fury. He is so angry. It feels like his
blood is on fire. First Adam comes after Harry, which Louis was expecting.
He has been berating and belittling Harry since their first encounter, but
now he is bringing Louis’ family into this. He misses them almost as much
as he misses Harry. Even though he feels betrayed by his mom, his
youngest sisters probably don’t understand where their brother has gone or
their ‘Hazzy’ for that matter. He doesn’t even know what his Mom and the
dickhead told them.
“What do my sins have to do with them? I am the one doing them, they
aren’t. What kind of God would punish them for my mistakes?” Louis asks,
the question sounding almost like something Harry would formulate. Fuck.
Finally. Harry is back in his head. Hopefully he stays, or Louis doesn’t
know how he will cope. Ashton helps a lot, too, but that is because he
reminds Louis of Harry so much it hurts. He is so fucking thankful that
Ashton is here with him. He doesn't feel so alone with his friendship, even
though he wishes Ashton wasn’t here.
“He would never punish them for your sins, however, think of the example
you are setting for your sisters. You’re their older brother, right? They see
you as a hero of sorts, and you are basically telling them that it is okay to
sin. That it is okay to go against God’s word. You hold their eternal souls in
your hand, and you are practically just giving them to the Devil. They will
go to Hell and be tortured for eternity with the Devil’s fire licking at their
skin. They will be in so much pain and endure an extreme amount of
suffering all because of you and the example you set. You may rather have
your Harry than to take God into your heart and let him heal you of your
illness, but what about them? How do you sleep at night knowing that you
will be the reason your baby sisters will be sent to Hell for them to be raped
by Demons and tortured by the Devil?”
With each word uttered by Adam, Louis feels like he can’t breathe. He
never thought about it like that. His sisters. He would be the reason they
would go to Hell, all because of his decisions. They will think they can
make bad decisions of their own only because their brother is doing it.
Louis falls to the floor, tears coming to his eyes. He can’t do this. He can’t
be the reason his little sisters are hurt and tortured. Raped by Demons. It
will be because of him. Oh God. What has he done? He begins to rock back
and forth. He wants Harry. He hates himself for wanting Harry, but he
fucking does. He wants Harry to hold him and tell him everything will be
alright even though Harry is the reason his little sisters will be tortured
eternally. Louis is the reason.
“Lou! Are you alright?” Ashton asks, beginning to get up from his seat, but
he is stopped by Adam’s firm hand. Louis wants Ashton’s touch, though.
Ashton who reminds him so much of Harry. Ashton could make him feel
better, but he can’t touch him. Maybe he doesn’t deserve to feel better.
Maybe God wanted him to have this realization. He is deserving of this
pain. His shame. His regret.
“Don’t touch him. If you do, you will be in solitary confinement again,
without food this time. He has to deal with his mistakes on his own. He has
to see the error of his ways. He has to realize that Harry is no good and will
only bring him bad things. He will only bring his family bad things,” Adam
says, his tone harsh, making Louis cry harder because he’s right. Louis has
to live with his mistakes. How can Harry be bad, though? He is a good
person who is good to the people around him. He has been through so
much, but he doesn’t believe in God. He is bad, isn’t he? He is the reason
Louis is here. Louis is the one that pursued Harry though, not the other way
around. Louis is a terrible person, too, and he hates himself.
“That will be all for today. Louis you can continue your recounts tomorrow.
Once you’re finished, we will move on to Ashton. Dismissed.” Louis hears
the other people in the group get up around him. He looks up to find
Ashton’s eyes on him, worried and shining with tears. Louis looks away
quickly, Ashton reminds Louis of Harry far too much right now. He still has
to talk about what happened prom night. How is he supposed to do that?
How is he supposed to take one of the most precious memories he has and
poison it with all of this? He can’t. He can’t do this. He knows how Harry
felt that night because the only way out Louis can see is death.
Chapter End Notes
Give me a Sign
Chapter Summary
I'm still so sorry

Chapter Notes
unsure. Thank you

with the emotions/theme of the chapter. For this chapter, I also added
Ready to Run by One Direction because... well... You'll see.
Dead star shine

Light up the sky
I'm all out of breath
My walls are closing in
Days go by
Give me a sign
Come back to the end
The shepherd of the damned- Breaking Benjamin
“So Harry, tell me what brings you in today?” Lola asks, dark eyes finding
Harry’s as she crosses her legs, notebook poised in her lap. She seemed nice
when they first walked in, very inviting, but he wasn’t expecting her to just
jump right into it. He chose to have Robin and his mom with him. Robin
mostly for moral support, and his mom needs this almost as much as he
does. They need to talk about everything, so Harry swallows, looking down
at his hands.
“Umm-- when I was thirteen I was beaten up by these guys. One of them, I
thought I loved. They beat me up ‘cause, I’m gay,” Harry starts, fiddling
with the newly replaced bracelets on his arm because saying it outloud is
still very strange to him. The bracelets were different, and he wasn't sure
how he felt about them however he had to wear something. It was getting
warmer, and he wasn’t ready to leave the house without something to cover
his scars, new and old. He barely remembers cutting them off that day; he
does remember the sound of them snapping as the knife sliced through. He
pauses because he isn’t sure he can continue with the story. He told Louis,
and look what happened. Now he is expected to say it all over again. How?
How is it possible? He does find that saying it outloud the second time isn’t
as bad as the first. Telling a complete stranger is much easier than telling
the boy he loves and trusts.
“That must have been very traumatizing for you at such a young age. How
did you handle it?” She asks, looking down at her notebook to write
something, then quickly finding Harry’s gaze again. Her eyes are kind, and
maybe she does want to help. Maybe Robin is right, and this is the first step
to his and his mom’s healing. He swallows, attempting to dislodge the lump
that had formed in his throat from the memories of that night and the night
he told Louis. He takes a deep breath, knowing he needs to get through this.
Like ripping off a bandaid. It wills till hurt, but there is no point in
prolonging the pain. He’s had enough pain to do him a lifetime.
“Not well. After it happened, I um-- I started cutting,” Harry admits, his
eyes stinging with unshed tears. It’s not the recollection of the events that is
getting to Harry. No. All he can picture is Louis’ face as he says it, the look
of complete and utter adoration in his eyes. His words as he comforted
Harry. His hands as he carded his fingers through Harry’s hair while they
cried together. A tear slips down his cheek as he shakes his head, trying to
shake the memory loose. His mom reaches for his hand, gripping it tightly
as Harry continues with the rest of his story through broken vocal cords and
unsteady breathing. Lola stays silent, occasionally stopping to ask
questions, or write something down on her notepad.
“How did all of this affect the relationship with your mom?” Lola asks,
glancing at Anne once Harry is finished recounting one of the worst days of
his life. It’s not the worst anymore, though. He hasn’t said anything about
Louis, yet. He doesn’t know if he can talk about it without actually having a
panic attack, the uncertainty of the situation gnawing at his gut. He looks
over at his mom as well, shocked to see that she has been silently crying.
He has no idea when that began, but her other hand is holding Robin’s,
shaking. Robin has been quiet during the whole thing, sensing this needs to
be between Harry and Anne.
“I felt-- I felt like I had fucked everything up. I had a lot of guilt. I thought I
was the reason Dad left, and that was a part of the reason why she hated me.
I also thought she hated me because of how fucked up I was. She was just
so disappointed in me. She couldn't even look at me. She wouldn’t come to
my room or even really talk. She buried herself in working two jobs to
provide for me and Gemma. I felt like she had abandoned me when I
needed her most.” Harry’s voice cracks with the admission, the words
ending in a sob as he bows his head, not wanting them to see him cry even
though he has been for the last fifteen minutes.
“Harry I…”
“Sorry, Anne. I am going to have to interrupt you. It’s Harry’s turn, let him
finish what he has to say, then you can respond,” Lola says, her tone
brooking no argument, and Harry doesn’t hear his mom protest. He takes a
moment, trying to collect his thoughts and calm himself down. He accepts
the tissue offered to him by a manicured hand. It must be Lola. He uses it to
wipe his eyes, sniffling a bit. Just then, he registers a hand stroking his
back. It’s warm and familiar. It has to be his mom’s other hand. A part of
him thought she would be angry with him over what he’d just admitted, but
she isn’t. She is still comforting him, and that somehow gives him the
strength to continue.
“I was just so hurt by Logan and my father. I didn’t know how to deal, and
it just felt like I was alone. Always so alone with my thoughts, not really
knowing how to cope. Mom just left me there, for hours at a time.
Sometimes she didn’t even come home, and I was so fucking lost. I hated
myself. I hated myself so fucking much and wondered why I didn’t have the
balls to end it. I had started having panic attacks more frequently. I barely
slept. I was just so numb to everything. My own mother couldn’t love me,
how could I love myself?” Harry is now openly crying now, unable to look
his mom in the eye. He thought he had gotten somewhat passed this, but he
was wrong. His body hurts with the rejection he still feels from his mother.
Yes, things have been better, but that doesn't mean they are fixed. How
could something so broken be fixed?
“Harry are you ready for your mom to respond?” Lola asks, softy. Harry
just nods, too choked on his tears to form anymore coherent sentences. He
thought he could do this. He thought he was ready to face his demons, but
everything feels far too raw. The memories of all of the nights spent hungry
and alone, wondering if his mom actually loved him or was only around out
of responsibility, surge into his mind, as if some invisible floodgates have
burst. He hadn’t realized how much it still bothered him until that very
moment, and he feels like he is suffocating, as if he can’t find the air to
breathe. Anne pats his back to get his attention, he almost forgot she had
been holding it at all. He looks down at their hands first, her’s appearing
small and somehow frail in his, even though he has been holding on to her
like a lifeline.
“Harry, I know it means nothing, and I can’t take away the pain that I’ve
caused, but I’m so sorry. I don’t have an excuse good enough for making
you feel that way. I was a terrible mother and every single day, I hate
myself for it. After finding you… after finding you laying there like that, I
was so scared. Every time I looked at you, all I could see was your pale,
lifeless face laying there, surrounded by your blood. It haunted me, Harry.
Before that, you pushed me away. I couldn't get through to you, and I felt
like I failed as a mom. Then when you tried to kill yourself, it almost
solidified that for me. I thought you were better off without me because I
was such a bad parent. I thought you were happier if I wasn’t around,”
Anne says, her words ending on a broken sob. She doesn't let Harry’s hand
go, and Harry can see the pain in her blue eyes. Pain that looks eerily
similar to his own.
She wipes her eyes using a wadded up tissue that Robin hands her then
takes a deep, shaky breath. She looks Harry in the eyes, and Harry almost
wants to look away however he forces himself to keep eye contact, even
though his vision is blurry with his tears. “Harry, I will never forgive myself
for all of those years of neglecting you. It haunts me. I also don’t expect
your forgiveness. I don’t even deserve it.” Her eyes are brimming with
more tears, as she brings her free hand up to Harry’s cheek. “I want you to
know though, that I am so very, very proud of you. I am so proud of the
loving and caring boy you have become, even without me. You are so
strong and so brave. You have been through so much, and you are my
inspiration. The reason I live every single day. I know I didn’t say it for a
long time, but I love you. I do. I know it may be hard to believe, but Harry I
love you so much. I’m so sorry for hurting you, and making you feel
ignored and alone. It’s not enough; it will never be enough. I will never be
enough, but I’m sorry.”
Harry hugs her then. He hasn’t forgiven her yet, but it helps to know how
she felt then as well as how she feels now. He tries to put himself in her
shoes, and while he thinks he would have made a different decision, he isn’t
one hundred percent certain he can say he wouldn’t have done the same in
her position. He is smart enough to see why she made hers. He was in a bad
place back then, and even if she had tried, he probably would have just
pushed her away even more. If he is being honest, he would have made it
harder on both of them. A lot of things could have been handled differently
on both of their parts, and they both made mistakes. He believes her,
though. He believes that she loves him, and she regrets what happened, so
he squeezes her tightly. She clutches on to him, crying into his shoulder
now, repeating that she is sorry over and over again. Harry is crying again
too, fat tears streaming down his face as he breathes her in through clogged
up nasal passages.
He finds Robin's eyes, and reaches for his hand, gripping it tightly as well,
silently thanking him for somehow glueing their family back together.
There are still pieces missing, and not everything fits flawlessly, but they
work. Maybe they can be like the Japanese pottery he read about. Not
perfect, but glued back together with shimmering gold, showing the world
that although they were once broken, now they are whole, and nothing that
is beautiful is perfect. Harry is slowly starting to realize that. Sometimes the
most beautiful things are broken, and that’s okay. He feels like this is a new
start for them. They still have a long way to go, but their path seems much
brighter, the terrain less strenuous. They will need to continue therapy, and
he still has no idea how to process what happened with Louis, however this
is a start, and he at least feels a little better.
“Okay, that’s all the time we have today, but I think you both made
exceptional progress. The first step in healing is admitting that you have a
problem and facing those problems head on. Both of you have done that
today. You have both been open and honest with each other, and that is all
that I ask of both of you as we continue on this journey to healing. You
should both feel very proud of the steps that you have taken today. Harry, I
know you said that you write in a journal; I’d like you to continue to do
that. Anne, if you don’t already, I’d like you to start one. I really think that
it would benefit you to have a place to process all of the thoughts and
feelings that you have been suppressing for all of these years. You may not
realize it, but you both have been bottling these emotions up to the point
that neither of you wanted to crack the seal and examine something so
painful to both of you. I also want you to do something together, just the
two of you, before our next appointment. Something to start to mend the
mother and son bond that was broken. Something that will set you both
back on the path to enjoying each other again. Do you think you can do
that?” Lola asks. Harry and Anne both nod in agreement, their cries
quietening down to sniffles. “Great. Thank you for coming in today. I will
see you in a couple of weeks.”
As they leave the room, Harry takes a deep breath, his chest feeling lighter
than it has in years. He makes a decision then, for a different type of
closure. “Mom, Robin, can we maybe drop by Louis’ house on our way
home? I wanna ask where he is so maybe I can send him a letter.” Harry
doesn’t know if it is a good idea, but he has to do something. The whole
idea makes him nauseated, as anxiety twists in his gut. What if none of
them are there? He hasn’t seen Jay or the girls, or even Mark, so he has no
idea if it is just Louis who left. He needs to do this, though. Jay still hasn't
returned any of his mom’s calls, so maybe if they go there, they will get
some answers. The more Harry thinks about it, the more uncertain he is that
Louis just left him. It just seems so strange, the events leading up to it not
clicking together, as if someone forced a square peg into a round hole. They
can’t ignore him if he shows up at their door, right? Presuming they are
even still living there, that is.
They try to distract him the best they can as they drive to Louis’ house, but
it doesn’t really work. Harry’s leg jogs the entire way, the nervous energy
feeling as though it may choke him. He is sweating despite the AC blasting,
and his heart is on the verge of beating out of his chest just to run away
from the whole idea. He has to do this, though. If he doesn’t, then the
uncertainty will continue to eat him alive. Either way, it is an unpleasant
death, but this way will at least be quick. It will perhaps give him a bit of
closure about the whole ordeal. He swallows down the need to vomit when
they pull up in front of Louis’ house. Both cars are in the driveway, so
everyone is home which isn’t surprising for 5 o'clock on a Tuesday. He can't
stop the breath of relief that escapes him, knowing at least they still live
here, but that doesn’t keep his overactive imagination from conjuring up
every horrible scenario as to where Louis has disappeared to.
“Do you want us to come with you?” Anne asks, looking back at Harry. Her
expression is worried, and she has every right to be. Harry probably looks
like death. He has been crying all morning, and now he is physically
shaking, his skin clammy and pale. He thinks about her question. He knows
they would if he asked, but he isn’t sure he wants them to. A part of him
feels like he needs to do this alone, but the thought of doing it alone makes
his stomach clench with overwhelming anxiety. He takes a few deep
breaths, trying to calm his breathing pattern a bit, or else he is going to have
a panic attack.
“No. No, I’m okay. I think I am going to go alone,” Harry responds, looking
at the door with trepidation. It is only a few feet away from him, but from
where he is sitting, it feels like a day's journey. He takes another deep
breath, shaking his hands in a failed attempt to release some of the tension
in his limbs. He thinks about the fact that he hasn’t seen Louis in more than
two weeks. Hasn’t heard so much as a peep from him, and uses that as fuel
to propel himself into action. He opens the door, shutting it quietly behind
him, thinking that it may be better if they don’t really know he is coming.
The walk to the door really only takes a few seconds, but it feels like an
eternity before he is facing the brown wood. It’s a lovely door really. Harry
notices because he is just staring at it, not being able to bring himself to
actually knock or ring the bell. He concentrates on breathing for a moment,
and brings his hand up to ring the doorbell, trying and failing twice before
he drops it back to his side quickly. Finally, after a few more attempts, with
a trembling finger, he presses the button, regretting it almost immediately.
He forces his body to stay still, only tapping his foot and scratching at his
scars occasionally. He thinks that maybe nobody is going to come to the
door. He is confused when it opens revealing what appears to be an empty
entryway.
“Hazzy!” Next thing Harry registers are two small bodies colliding with his
legs. He spreads his arms attempting to keep his balance as he looks down
to find two blond heads. The sound of their voice sends a jolt of pain
through his chest, making his heart physically ache. He has missed them so
much, and he didn’t even realize it. He allows a small smile to take over his
features as he pats their warm backs. They look up at him, and Harry’s heart
aches even more, their eyes being far too similar to their brother’s.
“Hey, girls,” Harry greets, barely holding back his tears. Holy fuck. He
knew this would be hard, but he wasn’t anticipating his heart breaking all
over again all because Phoebe and Daisy hugged him. He missed them, and
Lottie and Fizzy and Jay even. Not Mark because, fuck that asshole.
“We missed you, Hazzy! We thought we’d never see you again,” Daisy
says, looking up at Harry with tear filled, blue eyes. His mind flashes back
to his last night with Louis, his blue eyes were brimming with tears as well.
The way they fell on his face as Louis fucked into him bare, promising
never to let him go, but he did. Why? That is precisely what Harry is here to
try and find out. He shakes the memory out of his head, feeling as though
he has been slammed back down to Earth, as the girls squeeze his legs
tighter.
“I missed you, too,” Harry starts, prying them off, so he can bend his knees
to be eye level with them. They are both smiling at him brightly, and Harry
does his best to return it. He is happy to see them; he just has so much more
on his mind at the current moment. He clears his throat, attempting to
dislodge whatever it is that has taken up residence there. “Do you all know
where your brother is?”
Harry hearts drops when they begin shaking their heads in unison, more
tears falling down their small faces. Harry’s brows draw in confusion,
perplexed by their reactions. If Louis left, then why are they crying?
Perhaps they just miss him, but wouldn’t they get to speak to him, or at the
very least, know where he went? A vacation? To visit family? Something.
They’re young though, so maybe that’s not enough for them. Harry’s
attention snaps back to them when Phoebe begins to speak, “Lou’s gone.
We haven't talks to him in forever. We miss him, too. Daddy said he needed
hel…”
“Girls, you know you aren’t supposed to answer the…” Harry’s heart stops
at the sound of Mark’s voice. He looks up to see the large man glaring at
him. If looks could kill, Harry’s heart would have surely stopped beating.
Too bad he no longer wants that. Harry stands slowly, every nerve ending in
his body screaming for him to run because Mark looks murderous, but
Harry stills himself, preparing. He wants to know how they were planning
to finish their sentence. ‘Daddy said he needed’-- what? Hell?
“Who’s at the…” Jay’s sentence trails off when she spots Harry. It seems
like no one is able to say the word ‘door’. Harry finds their reactions
strange, almost as if they have seen a ghost. Jay looks as though she is
about to cry, while Mark still appears dangerous, his meaty hands balled
into fists at his sides. Almost as though Daisy and Phoebe can feel the
tension between their parents, they hug Harry’s legs. He wants to protect
them, but the girls being near him seems to be making things worse.
“Phoebe. Daisy. Go to your room right this instant,” Mark commands. The
girls start to protest, crying and hugging Harry’s legs when Mark grabs their
arms, roughly pulling them off. Harry opens his mouth, about to tell Mark
to be a bit more gentle with his children, but closes it quickly, Mark’s face
now red with anger. Phoebe and Daisy finally submit to their Dad’s
demand, pulling away from Harry and running into the house. Harry can
feel anger churning in his gut now, quickly replacing the anxiety because
Mark didn’t have to be a dick.
“I’m looking for Louis. I haven't heard from him, and I wanted to check to
see if he is okay,” Harry tells them, shoving his hands into his pockets to
stop them from shaking with anger. Harry watches their expressions closely,
Jay glancing over to Mark, almost as if she is scared. Everything just seems
off. Jay normally would hug him and ask him how he is, but she is currently
barely holding back tears.
“He said he needed to get away, so he went to spend the summer with his
grandparents. Said he needed to prioritize things,” Marks tells him, grinning
like the Cheshire Cat. It’s a lie. Harry knows it. He can tell by Mark’s body
language, almost as if he rehearsed the whole thing. The words are far too
easy, rolling off his tongue in memorization. Harry’s skin prickles, the lie
sitting squarely on his chest, making it difficult to breathe. He glances over
at Jay. She is biting her lip, not making eye contact with Harry at all.
Everything is wrong.
“Oh. I see. Well can I have their address? I’d like to send him a letter,”
Harry lies. He knows Louis isn’t with his grandparents. Jay’s parents are
dead, and he hates Mark’s. He never really even saw them as his true
grandparents since they had always treated him like a bastard child. Louis is
definitely not with them, not of his own free will at least.
“No,” Marks responds, the words dripping with irritation.
“Well, I’d like to tell the girls goodbye, if you don’t mind…” Harry starts,
looking over Mark’s shoulder to see if he can get another glimpse of them.
He missed them deep in his chest. He never thought he liked children, but
he loves Louis’ little sisters. They are so pure and never judged him for the
way he looked. They have wormed his way into his heart much like their
brother.
“You stay the fuck away from them, you pervert. If you go near them again,
or come near my home, for that matter, I will shoot first, then call the cops
on the trespasser. You and your disgusting ways are not welcome here. Get
the fuck off my property!” Marks yells, spit flying on Harry’s face making
him flinch. Before Harry can even open his mouth to respond, Mark slams
the door in his face. What the actual fuck? Pervert? He would shoot Harry?
Harry has been in his more times then he is even bothering to count. What
the hell happened? Holy shit.
____________
Louis swallows dryly, looking over at Ashton with worry. The younger boy
seems to be getting the same treatment as himself. Louis doesn’t bother
fighting them as they force his arms to the wall behind him hissing when
his overheated skin comes in contact with the cool surface. They are naked,
both boys being far to used to the occurrence now. For some reason, these
sick fucks like to make them do things naked. Louis doesn’t even blink
when they strap his wrists to the wall, securing the bonds tightly. Next they
stabilize his head and chin using another some kind of strapping device, so
he has no alternative but to look forward, which is what kills him the most.
He can’t see Ashton like this. He can’t know how he is coping. Louis just
hopes that Ashton hangs on to the fact that they are going to try to escape in
two weeks. They can handle two more weeks. At least, that is what Louis
has been telling himself.
“Alright boys, today you will be starting Aversion Therapy,” Dr. Thompson
begins, eyes traveling between them with a sick smile. He’s holding a
clipboard with a black stethoscope hanging around his neck, a direct
contrast to his pristine white lab coat. He looks like some type of mad
scientist. He is, for all intents and purposes. Louis feels like the vice that
has been gripping his intestines just tightened, sending another wave of
nausea through him. He swallows, knowing that throwing up will only
make things worse. Louis tries to look up, feeling something sticky on his
right arm, but can’t really see it, only able to see Adam who has moved
over to Ashton. “Now that the Electrodes have been placed, you will be
shown a series of images. If either of you experience any arousal, you will
be shocked with electricity. If you try to close your eyes or look away, you
will be shocked until you open them.”
Louis figured it would be something like this, but that doesn't stop his body
from responding. The bile rising in his throat is almost cutting off his
airway. His blood has frozen in his veins as his heart begins to beat wildly
with adrenaline. There is no point in fighting. He and Ashton have both
learned that the hard way. They just over power you, then call in
reinforcements which rush in to help. There is no point in running. They
will catch you and beat you until you’re crying. Louis had to watch that
happen to one of the boys that had been there for a while. It was sickening
and wrong, but it did instill fear in them. That’s what they wanted out of the
whole thing. Louis worries that he and Ashton are going to get caught when
they try to escape, but they have to at least try. They are watched 24/7 at the
facility, but their night guard will fall asleep on duty quiet often. They just
have to wait for the right moment.
Louis keeps his eyes trained on the television sat in front of them, watching
it come to life. There is no working up to it, the image goes straight to gay
porn. No kissing. No fingers. No foreplay. Just someone’s dick fucking into
another man as their moans fill the room. Louis can feel his body
immediately responding, but he tries to stop it. He tries to tell himself that it
doesn’t turn him on, but he hasn’t seen another person in a sexual capacity
in over a month. His brain immediately goes to Harry, and their last time
together. Louis knows it’s cheesy, but that was more than just fucking. That
was more than sex. That was making love. Louis felt it deep in his soul. He
felt changed by it, but his body is still responding to the memory.
He winces when he hears Ashton cry out in pain. He tries to look over at
him, but his head his trapped. He balls his hands into fists, trying to hold
back tears. He is very attached to Ashton. Hearing him in pain makes Louis
want to rip someone’s throat out. He knows it is because Ashton reminds
him of Harry with his greenish eyes and dimpled smile, but Ashton has
become like his family in this fucked up place. They have been through a
lot together in a short period of time, and it seems as though they will be
adding this to the list. “Do not close your eyes,” Dr. Thompson warns, and
that must have been what Ashton had done to receive a shock.
Louis continues to stare at the television, doing his best to ignore the noise
coming from it, trying to keep his mind from transforming them into
memories. Memories of the sounds Harry makes when he is fucking Louis
or being fucked by Louis. The small moans that escaped from his kiss
bitten, parted lips. The growls from deep within his chest as he chases his
release. Louis isn’t even sure Harry knows he is making most of them.
Louis has them committed to memory though, can even recall the cadence
of his breathing if he needed to, which is damaging right now.
He tries to fight it, but his mind has other ideas, calling forth the image of
Harry’s dick disappearing into him. How his whole body tingled everytime
it pressed against his spot, making him cry out in pleasure. The way his big
hands gripped Louis’ hips tighter with every thrust that brought them closer
to their undoing. He remembers the taste of Harry’s skin, salty from his
tears the night of prom. They just so happened to pick a porn that featured a
curly haired male, as if they knew what Harry looks like.
Louis wants to close his eyes, but he knows the moment he does, he will get
shocked. It would be better than this though, better than being in pain over
thinking about Harry. He keeps his eyes trained on the screen. His breath
getting more shallow as arousal licks at his skin, but he begs himself not to
show it in his dick even though he can feel it stirring, coming to life. It is
being assaulted by images from the screen and his own mind. He hears
Ashton cry out again, bringing tears to his own eyes because for some
reason, hearing it, triggers his memories of prom. Memories of Harry
crying while they made love.
“Fuck,” Louis curses when the first wave of electricity goes through his
skin. His muscles involuntarily tighten, and he balls his hands into fists
again. He gets another shock right after, probably for cussing. His body’s
natural response is to pull away from it, but he can’t. He is bound there and
the electrodes are stuck to his arms. He has nowhere to go. The shocks do
nothing for his dick, all the blood in his body rushing south from the
memories and porn on the television. The sound alone, to his deprived
mind, is enough to make him hard, regardless of how much he tries to fight
it.
“You need to start thinking of yourselves as heterosexuals. These images in

front of you that arouse you are blasphemous in the eyes of the Lord, and
you should not gain any pleasure from them. They mean Hell for you and
your family. They mean your ultimate demise and an eternal life of torture
all because you choose to find them appealing.” Dr. Thompson's voice is
hateful as he spits the words. Louis can’t see him, but he knows he is
somewhere on his left.
“Your desires are reprehensible. This therapy will help you see that. The
pain from the shock will remind you of the pain that will come from the
everlasting flames in Hell. This is nothing compared to what you will feel
that day, when your flesh is being seared from your body, only to be
reconstructed then burned again. This will feel like a kiss from a butterfly,
when the demons in Hell poke at your skin with hot metal, branding you for
the Devil,” Dr. Thompson continues, and Louis sniffles back his tears, his
body still responding to the video. The shocks are almost constant now, and
Louis can’t stop himself from crying out as each new one courses through
his system. Ashton is just screaming, making Louis cry harder. He hates his
body. He hates it for still responding even though he is in pain, and Ashton
is crying.
“Is this what you want? Do you want the Devil raping you for eternity? Will
you enjoy it then when it's the cock of Lucifer and his demons as they use
your body over and over again for their pleasure? Much like Harry and
Luke have done to you and would have continued to do if we hadn’t
intervened. They are no better than the Devil. They just want you for
pleasure, nothing else. You have control over this. You have control over
your desires and choices. Do not let the Devil command you anymore! Do
not let him win this fight when your soul and the souls of your family are
on the line!”
Louis begins sobbing then, his whole body going limp including his dick.
He tries to slide on the wall, but the restraints are holding him in place,
digging into his skin as he puts all of his weight on them. He is breathing
hard, the pain in his arm finally receding, but replaced by an indescribable
anguish in his heart. He wants to clutch his chest. He wants to scream at the
God that allowed this to happen to him, but all he can do his weep. What is
he doing? Is Harry worth going to Hell for? Louis used to think so, but now
he just feels confused. He didn’t think there was a God, but suddenly he
feels deserving of this place. Deserving of the things happening to him
because they are here to help him. Aren’t they? They don’t want to see him
go to Hell. Right? Harry does, though. Right? Louis cries harder, his body
shaking with it, unsure of where he can go from here.
__________
Dear Diary,
I am still unsure if that is the way to start these things, either way, it has
been horrible here. At least, I no longer have to sleep with my hands and
feet bound to the bed. They said I can sleep normally for ‘good behavior’.
I’m not questioning it though because I am just happy to finally sleep some
again. I feel like I am barely holding onto my sanity. Each day, Harry’s
voice in my head fades more and more. I barely hear it anymore, and he is
my voice of reason. He is the reason I keep fighting, so what am I going to
do when it’s gone? I’m so scared of what will happen when that day finally
comes. They will have won.
Aversion therapy has gotten so much worse. They don’t just use electricity.
Some days they apply ice to our skin as they play porn in front of us, forcing
us to watch. After a while, the ice feels as though it is burning you, my skin
so numb I worry that I will never feel in that area again. They seem to place
it in areas they know Harry may have touched, as if they want to rebrand
me. My neck. My wrists. My chest. They have also used heat as a way of
aversion. I don’t know which is worse, being burnt from the ice or burnt
from the heat, either way, I leave each session feeling raw, my body and
psyche more damaged than it was when I first entered. Ash and I walk back
to our dorms together, usually crying silently. If we try to talk about it, we
get into trouble, so we hold our tongues until we have a moment alone. It’s
too hard to talk about, though. I just want to hug him and tell him
everything will be alright. I want to hold him and beg him not to give up,
yet. I can tell he is waning as well, his spirit slowly diminishing, and I don’t
know what hurts me more. Seeing the light leave his eyes everytime I look at
him or the light leave mine everytime I see myself in a mirror.
Group therapy has been awful. It was my turn to pretend a pile of blankets
and coats were Harry as I had to scream at them, then hit them with a
baseball bat. I felt sick afterwards, actually throwing up in the trash can.
Adam actually told me that was just Satan’s toxins leaving my body,
replaced by God’s saving grace. I tell myself I didn’t mean the things I said,
but a part of me does. It’s so difficult not to blame Harry for this. They keep
telling me to. They tell me that I should because he is the reason I was
placed in here to begin with, but they are wrong. It was my own desires that
got me in here, however, it is hard to remember that in the moment, when
they are screaming at you.
They keep telling me that I am going to get an STD from my exploits and
die. That I may already have it and my body is withering away from the
disease of my sins. They tell me to be ashamed. That I should be ashamed of
my past and disgusted with myself. They made me look in the mirror and
call myself a disgusting heathen over and over again until I began believing
it. I was screaming it at my own reflection, telling myself how vile my own
lifestyle was. That it was a choice, then calling myself straight over and
over until I was screaming the words then collapsed to the floor to sob
them.
I hate myself now. I hate who I am, and I have no form of identity anymore.
I feel like I have lost it. I just need to get to Harry. Harry can make this
better. Harry can make my demons go away. I just need him to tell me the
truth. I haven't lost hope in him, and I think that maybe, just maybe, if I can
get out of here, then I will remember who I was before this. Without him, I
know I’ll never make it out of this alive. Fuck, I just want us to be alright. I
want to be alright, but right now, it feels like that will never happen again.
That I have lost myself in this. It scares me how much it doesn’t scare me.
They are fucking with my head, making me question my own logic.
Tonight is the night that we are going to finally get out of here and
coincidentally it is also the night Ash turns seventeen. I feel bad that I had
kind of forgotten about his birthday in the midst of all of this. We need to get
out of here because I don’t want him to spend his birthday being tortured.
We are going to run away. We are ready to run. We will never look back
because we don’t belong here. I belong with Harry. We have no idea where
we will be running to, neither of us have a home to go to. We are just going
to escape from this place and follow the sun in the morning. It is so fucking
dangerous. I hope this isn’t going to be Ash’s last birthday. I hope his life
doesn’t end at seventeen because of this, because of me. We are just going to
go blindly even though Ash kind of knows his way around this area. We
could die of starvation despite the fact that we have some food packed in a
blanket that we tied up. It can’t do us forever, though. We are banking on
this train.
I just hope that Robin and Anne will give us a place to stay. It is asking a lot
of them, and I wouldn’t blame them one bit for turning two fucked up boys
away. We would deserve it because we ran away from people trying to help
us. I am so fucked up, I don’t even know if they are trying to help us or hurt
us. I need to get out of here. It is messing with my mind. I don’t know how
much more I can take before I break. I just want to see Harry. I just want
him to hold me and to protect me because I can’t protect myself right now.
Sometimes I find myself starting to pray. Pray to God that we can escape
this Hell, but then I remember he is the reason I am here in the first place.
Perhaps he wants me here, so running away will be a direct move against
him. I just… fuck I feel like I can’t breathe. I don’t even know who I am
anymore. I don’t remember who I was, and as long as I am here, I fear who
I will become.
Louis finishes quickly flips to another page, jotting something down in his
messy script before he closes the notebook. He reaches under his mattress,
quickly locating the pages he had ripped from it, filled with his earlier
thoughts. He stuffs them in the front then glances out the window. There is
a full moon tonight, he had been using the light from it to write. Everything
is dark and quiet, just the moonlight keeping them company. They had
chosen a full moon in hopes that it would provide just enough illumination
to help them make their way through the woods.
He can hear Terry snoring from his station, but he glances over just to make
sure that the man is, in fact, asleep. He finds Ashton’s green eyes peering at
him, and Louis nods once, a silent signal that now is the time. Anxiety
shoots through Louis’ gut, uncertainty making him rethink everything, but
he stills himself, remembering, yet again, that they have to do this. He and
Ashton can’t live like this much longer. He quietly gets out of bed
motioning for Ashton to follow suit. They find their clothes and shoes, not
wanting to be on the run in their pajamas and barefoot.
“Come on,” Louis says, clutching the notebook in his hand once they get
outside. They quickly change, leaving their clothes off to the side. He looks
around, making sure that nobody is wandering about as they dash from the
dorms to the cafeteria. They had hidden their stuff in a hollowed out tree
stump, covering it with moss. It was Ashton’s idea. A brilliant one at that.
They quickly find their stump, removing the moss to pull out the dusty
blanket full of their food and supplies. Louis shoves his notebook inside,
then uses the rope they had stolen from one of their many ‘team building’
activities to secure it. He slings the rope across his body, using the muscle
he has built up from all of their morning workout routines to carry the
heavy continents.
Louis tries to ignore the trepidation in his gut as he pushes Ashton forward,
towards the fence on the eastern side of the compound. That is where they
hear the train, so that is the direction they've decided to go. They should
reach it just in time to catch the next one, if all goes according to plan. If
not, they plan on walking the tracks until something slow enough rolls by, if
they don’t get tracked down by the people in the camp before that happens.
He keeps repeating Harry’s name, like a mantra in his head, as they make
their way towards their destination, using it as a goal of sorts. If they can
pull this off then he will see Harry again. He will get to hear his voice
again. He will get to be held in his long, strong arms. He wants to breathe
him in again. He wants to feel him again. His Harry.
“Did you hear that?” Ashton whispers, turning his head towards the sound.
Fear grips Louis’ body, not moving a muscle as he listens intently. A shiver
goes down his spine when he recognizes the sound of Terry’s shouts. More
yells come from other counselors as they wake up, realizing two of their
‘patients’ have escaped in the dead of night. Louis swallows, looking over
to find Ashton’s gaze. Ashton looks scared, his green eyes are wide with
panic as he bites his full bottom lip, the moonlight creating a shadow in his
cleft chin.
“Run,” Louis murmurs, his voice barely carrying over the sound of shouting
men in the not so far off distance. Ashton doesn’t need anymore prompting,
as he takes off through the woods. They are only about half a mile from the
fence at this point. Louis thinks they can make it. Even in their rush, their
footsteps are mostly quiet, their breathing steady as they focus on their
objective. Louis keeps his eyes trained forward, knowing that looking back
will only slow him down. He concentrates on keeping his steps light,
Ashton’s back, and the feeling of their makeshift satchel as it bumps his hip
with each movement.
“This way! I think they went this way!” A voice shouts, closer this time.
Louis stumbles on a tree root, but catches himself. His ankle hurts, his old
injury flaring up from the twist. He ignores it, gritting his teeth and
pretending it isn’t suddenly aching. Ashton looks back, worried, but Louis
waves him off, telling him to keep running. Ashton does, Louis quickly
catching up with him despite his throbbing ankle screaming in protest. He
chose to wear the satchel because he is a faster runner than Ashton, but like
this they are more evenly matched. Louis’ chest is now burning, his arms
and legs screaming at him to stop, but he can’t. If he stops, they will be
caught. They can’t be caught. Fuck. He can’t survive another day in this
place. He bites his lip to keep the tears at bay because he feels like he is
running for his life, for his freedom.
He pretends Harry is on the other side of the fence, waiting for him with
open arms. He hates himself for almost flinching at that thought, his brain
being rewired to see Harry as an enemy, as the Devil in disguise. He ignores
that part of his brain, knowing that if they can make this happen, then he
won’t have to worry about that anymore. Sure he will still be slightly
fucked up, and he may flinch when Harry touches him, but Harry did the
same thing when Louis first touched him. They overcame that, so they can
overcome this. He just needs to escape.
Ashton stops when they see flashlights, shining in their direction, but Louis
grabs his arm, pulling him to keep going. They do. Louis thinks they are
almost there, but he can’t be certain. Everything looks different under the
cloak of night, darkness seeping into almost every surface. The moonlight
barely pierces through the trees, giving them just enough illumination to
keep from running head first into one of them. His eyes sting with sweat
and unshed tears. Louis wants to cry, his whole body exhausted, but he
pushes himself, pulling Ashton along with him. They can’t give up. They
can’t be caught. They are almost free.
“No point in running! The Lord can still see you! We will find you!”
Chapter End Notes
*Dodges Harry's overly expensive antique cars*
*Dodges Louis' 'tragic' suspenders*
Umm... Have I told you that I love you, lately?
Joan of Arc
Chapter Notes
I highly recommend going back to the last chapter and starting it from
the last scene to get the full effect.

unsure. Thank you

You want to satisfy your high command

You want to touch my face with your dirty hands
So you blame me for, you blame me for the madness you create
And I wage my war cause either way you'll burn me at the stake- In This
Moment
Without thinking, Louis grabs ahold of Ashton’s arm and pulls him behind
a large tree just as the light from the flashlights hit the spot where they were
standing just moments ago. They are both breathing heavily, and Louis
closes his eyes for a brief moment, pretending that he is back home with
Harry. When he opens them, he is hit with the reality of their situation.
They are going to be caught. They are going to be taken back to Hell on
Earth and abused. He doesn’t care about himself, but he can’t let that
happen to Ashton. For some reason, letting Ashton down almost feels like
letting Harry down, and he can’t do that again.
He looks into Ashton’s greenish eyes, and sees Harry. Louis’ heart shatters
in that moment because Ashton is terrified, his entire body tense. His eyes
are wide and shiny in the moonlight, echoing how Harry appeared their last
night together, when he took a leap of faith for Louis, only for Louis to
leave him. He can’t disappoint Ashton like he did Harry. He can’t repeat
that mistake. He can’t let another young boy that he loves be tortured
anymore, and if he doesn’t do something, then Louis is no better than
Logan. Ashton doesn’t deserve this, just like Harry didn’t deserve what
happened to him. Louis does, so he comes to a decision.
“Here,” Louis hisses, thrusting their makeshift bag into Ashton’s arms.
Ashton takes it, but looks confused, his full lips open, brows drawn. Louis
glances back, the voices now closer. They don’t have a lot of time. His body
is shaking from exhaustion, adrenaline, and fear. His ankle twinges, a
constant reminder that he will only slow Ashton down. It is the fear that is
gripping him, making it difficult for him to breathe, to think. He has to do
this though. “Go. Run. I’ll distract them. Hopefully they will just come after
me and give you enough time to make it to the train.”
“Lou. I’m not letting you go back to that.” Even in the dim light, he can see
the tears in Ashton’s eyes. Louis clutches his chest, the words far too
similar to the ones he spoke to Harry that night. His mind flashes to Harry
below him, tears streaming down his face as he asked ‘never’ and Louis
promised. He fucking promised that he would never let him go, but he did.
He broke his promise, whether it was his own choice or not. Everything is
made to be broken, though, so when Ashton tries to push the bag back into
Louis arms, Louis holds his hands up.
“Ash. Don’t argue. Just go. Consider it a birthday present from me. Please,”
Louis begs. They are running out of time. The flashlights are brighter now,
the voices clearer than the daylight that will be coming in a few hours. He
glances around, making sure that no one has snuck up on them while they
are having this conversation. He feels overly exposed even though they are
somewhat hidden behind a tree. They could find them any second, and his
whole body is on high alert for that. He is surprised that their pursuers can’t
hear the beat of his racing heart because, at the moment, that is all Louis
can hear. That and the distant voice of Harry, the memories flooding his
mind. He closes his eyes again, trying to get his heart to calm down and the
memories to stop. Now is not the time.
“Lou. No. I don’t need a fucking birthday present. I need you to come with
me. Please. No. Don’t do this. No.” Ashton’s eyes are pleading, his high
pitched voice on the edge of hysterical, but Louis shakes his head. He
watches a tear trail down Ashton’s cheek, falling into the cleft of his chin
and blinks away his own. This is Ashton’s only chance at freedom, at
survival. Louis had promised himself that he would get Ashton out here, out
of this hell. This is the only way. They aren’t both going to make it if they
try to run together, and that realization has Louis’ stomach sinking into the
depths of hell along with his soul. Only one of them can be free, and it will
be Ashton. Louis will make sure of that. It breaks his heart, the thought of
letting Ashton go, but he has to. He doesn’t have a choice.
From the sound of things, they are just moments away from being
surrounded, and Louis is on edge with this knowledge, his heart racing and
trepidation clenching at his gut like the jaws of life. Ashton needs to go. He
needs to get the fuck away from here and survive. Louis will be okay. At
least, that is what he is telling himself, but the idea of being in that place,
without Ashton, without Harry’s voice, is terrifying. He has to, though.
Only one of them will be able to make it. He has to get Ashton to run while
Louis distracts them. Ashton can’t be caught. Louis can’t allow that. He is
going to miss him, but this is the only fucking way. Louis would never be
able to live with himself if he allows Ashton to go back to that.
“Ashton, please. This is the only way. Please, run. Save yourself. I can’t let
you be caught. I-I can’t let someone else down. Please just go. I’ll be okay.
Just run. Run for the two of us and never ever look back,” Louis says, but
Ashton is shaking his head, his tears flying off his cheeks and landing on
some unknown part of the forest like dew drops full of heartache. Louis
sniffles, his own tears falling as well. His heart hurts, aching as if someone
is tearing it two pieces. “We don’t have time. I wrote Harry’s address in my
notebook. Go there. He will help you. Tell them I sent you. Just go.”
“Louis, I can’t see Harry without you. You’re supposed to see him. Not me.
Please. Don’t make me do this. We can go back together. We can survive
together…” Ashton’s voice cracks, his sentences trailing off, impeded by
the lump Louis knows is his throat. Louis feels like he is handing Ashton
half of his heart so that he can take it back to Harry. Show it to him. Tell
him that he never wanted to leave him, and maybe, Harry will understand
just how much Louis truly loves him. Even with all of the doubts that these
people have planted into Louis’ head, he still loves Harry with all of his
battered heart. He is still fighting for them. He holds onto that love, and he
just prays that it doesn’t slip through his fingers, like their escape has.
“No! No, we can’t. You have an opportunity to escape, and I’m not letting
you piss it away for me. Go. Find Harry. Tell him…” Louis pauses, his
throat burning because he doesn't know what he wants Ashton to tell him.
He closes his eyes, trying to collect his thoughts, but each moment that
passes is precious, like sand running through an hourglass. They are close to
being swallowed by the sand on the other side as it pours on top of them,
suffocating them. “Just tell him that I’m okay and to wait for me.”
“Louis. I can’t. Please. Come with me or let me go back with you…”

Ashton is now full out crying, and as Louis’ body is wanting to refuse, he
begins pushing Ashton away. Shoving hard against his chest. A selfish part
of him wants Ashton to come back with him too because he feels like he
needs him to stay sane, to secure his grip on reality. He needs him because
Asthon reminds him of Harry. Ashton reminds him to fight and hold on, but
Louis now has to push him away. The younger boy is clutching the bag like
a lifeline which it is. It is his only means of survival until he gets to
civilization. Ashton looks devastated, but Louis can’t let it affect him or
change his mind. Louis hopes this isn’t a death sentence for Ashton. That
his seventeenth birthday isn’t his last. He hopes he can make it. Ashton
seems confident in his ability to survive in the woods, though. Damn
hillbillies. Niall is going to love him.
“Go. Fuck. Go now! I’ll be okay. Go. Save yourself. I love you, Ash.
You’re like the little brother I never had. Please don’t forget that. Give
Harry a hug for me even though he doesn't much like touching and tell
Luke I said ‘hi’ and that I can’t wait to meet him.” Louis chokes on his
tears, hoping that he was able to muster just a shred of optimism with his
words, giving Ashton some kind of faith that he will be okay. Louis doesn't
know if he will or not, though. That is what scares him, but it is better him
than Ashton. He would never forgive himself if they hurt Ashton. He’s too
young. He may not come back from it. Louis doesn't know if he will come
back from it at this point, but if Harry could, maybe he has some sort of
hope.
“Okay. Stay strong, Louis. I love you, too. Please, don’t forget Harry.
Whatever they do to you, don’t forget him. Don’t let them take your light.
Please, Louis. I’ll come back for you. I’ll find a way to get you out of here.
Just… Just hold on,” Ashton sobs, and Louis grabs him in a fierce hug. He
tries to commit his smell to memory, knowing he is going to need it to help
him get through whatever is in store for him. He has almost forgotten
Harry’s already. He doesn’t know if he will be able to hold on. He already
feels like everything he knows himself to be has been seeping out of his
body, like water from a broken glass reservoir, being replaced by something
dirty and tainted. Something unrecognizable that scares Louis down to his
core. He squeezes Ashton tight, though, because he needs to remember. He
needs to never forget this moment.
“Happy Birthday to you,” Louis starts, his voice raspy from crying,
whispering the song into Ashton’s ear. It’s Ashton’s birthday, and Louis is
leaving him. His escape is his present. Louis hopes at least, so he continues
the song, his own version coming to his mind. “Happy Birthday to you.
Happy Birthday, dear Ashton. I’ll never forget you.” Louis’ voice cracks
with words he replaced the last ‘happy birthday to you’ with, finally giving
way to his sobs because he doesn't want to forget Ashton, but he is afraid he
will just like he is slowly starting to forget himself. He doesn't want to let
him go. He doesn't know if he can survive this without him. He is afraid he
will lose himself without Ashton’s constant grounding presence, reminding
him of everything he wants and hopes for. Ashton grips his shirt tight,
crying into his shoulder for the briefest of moments before Louis is pushing
him again.
“Go. I’ll hold them off. Hurry. Run. Don’t look back,” Louis whispers in his
ear when he feels like his heart can take their separation then he pushes him
hard. He’s wrong. His heart can’t take it. It’s breaking, half it in Asthon’s
hands. With one last glance at Louis, looking torn again, Ashton turns to
take off toward where Louis knows the fence is, just a few yards away.
Louis wipes his tears and watches for as long as feeseable, Ashton’s back
disappearing into the shadows, before it is illuminated by a flashlight. Fuck
they may have saw him. Louis has to act quick. He takes a deep breath,
turning to head back towards the camp, towards the voices. He has to hurry.
He has to distract them.
“Fuck you,” Louis yells, squinting when the beams from the flashlights hit
eyes. Jesus… they must have one of those hand held spotlights because they
are bright as fuck. Temporarily blinded by them, he begins running in the
direction of the camp, back towards Hell. He prays silently to whoever may
be listening that Ashton can make it. That he will successfully escape and
find solace somewhere far away, where they can’t get to him. He pumps his
arms, ignoring the twinge in his ankle as he tries to move faster, hoping that
they will all follow him and assume he and Ashton are together. He can
hear people running behind him, so he hopes it worked.
He glances back, seeing two of the counselors right behind him. He thinks
one is Adam, but he can’t be sure. Stupid fuck. He tries to run faster,
knowing that the longer he can distract them, the better chances Ashton will
have to get as far away from this place as possible. They may not know
Ashton is gone as well. They may not have checked his bed, just Louis’.
Louis hopes at least because they are just a few feet behind him now, hot on
his trail. He switches up his direction, hoping to throw them off, much like
he does when he plays football, but in football he never felt he was running
for his life. He feels sick just thinking about what they will do when they
catch him.
Louis yells when he feels a shoulder plow into his side, the blow hitting him
hard. He quickly loses his footing; the momentum he had sends him
tumbling to the ground, hitting his shoulder and side on the rough ground.
He groans when pain slices through him. The person that hit him is still on
top of him, holding him down. Louis can’t see who it is because they are
currently shining their flashlight in his eyes, forcing them closed or else be
blinded. Louis strikes out, suddenly feeling angry at them for taking away
his freedom. He knows it’s not the best idea, but if he can fight them off and
just run a little longer then maybe Ashton can get further away.
He smiles when his fist comes into contact with flesh and bone. It hurts his
hand, but it feels good to finally let some of his frustrations out. He is too
blinded by the light to see the fist that comes flying at his face, making
contact with his left eye. He screams out in pain, as the momentum from the
blow bounces his head off the hard ground. He punches again, not making
contact with any flesh this time, only to be met by another fist directly to
his nose. He can hear the bone crunching, the metallic taste of blood already
on his lips and in his mouth. He cries out, grabbing his nose, the pain
feeling as though it is seering a pathway behind his eyes. It fucking hurts to
breathe, hurts to touch it.
He knows that others have shown up because next he feels a kick to his
ribs, knocking the air from his lungs. It could not have possibly been the
person on top of him delivering it. He tries to shield himself as more kicks
and hits rain down on him, adding injuries to his stomach, chest and face.
He is crying now, his whole body in agony from the abuse. He has stopped
trying to retaliate. It’s of no use, he is outnumbered, so he just lays there,
praying that they will be done soon trying not to cry out with each new
blow. This had to be what Harry felt like when he was beat up at just
thirteen. Louis’ heart breaks again for him because no one should have to
suffer through this type of physical violation.
“Enough. Get him up,” a voice orders. It takes Louis a moment to recognize
it as Pastor Isaac. Louis groans as pain shoots through his entire body when
two men hoist him up. He has to put most of his weight on them, too weak
to even stand. Each step they take is agony, his ribs protesting with every
breath. His head feels fuzzy, much like that time he suffered a harsh tackle
during a football game, ultimately spraining his ankle and giving him a
concussion. He thinks he is drifting in and out of consciousness, his world
fading to black then coming back into a fuzzy view as they make their way
closer to camp.
“Did you find the other one?”

“No, sir. We will keep searching though.” Relief floods through Louis’
veins, making the pain subside just a tiny bit, as if he was given morphine.
Ashton escaped. That makes all of this worth it. He isn’t exactly sure where
they are, his eyes are starting to swell shut, stinging from the blood dripping
into them. He has to breathe through his mouth, far less painful than his
nose currently, but all he can taste is the metallic flavor of blood. Then a
familiar building comes into his hazy vision, and the realization as to where
they are taking him dawns on him, the dim light bulb coming on above his
head.
“No!” Louis screams, adrenaline pumping through his veins giving him the
strength to start fighting again. They are taking him to isolation. The hold
they have on his arms is firm, and he is too weak to really do much as they
continue dragging him towards the single room. Instead of just throwing
him in there to rot, like they have done all of the other times, they begin
stripping him of his clothes. He looks down, seeing that bruises are already
forming all over his body, each breath harder to take than the last. For the
first time in his life, he wishes that God would just let him die, so he won’t
have to suffer through whatever they are about to do to him.
“What are you doing?” Louis asks, eyes as wide as they can go, despite his
injuries, once he is stripped and forced onto the bed. They don’t answer him
as they lay him on his back. He kicks at them, flailing with every ounce of
strength he has left, but it is of no use. They are stronger than him and
outnumber him a great deal. They grab a hold of his flailing limbs, Louis
yelling out in pain as their fingers dig into his already bruised and beaten
skin. They use thick straps to bind him to each corner of the bed, spread out
like some kind of offering to God. Louis is surprised when they all exit the
room, leaving Louis with his thoughts as he tries to break free. The straps
are strong though, just like the ones he had been forced to sleep in for a
couple of weeks after he was caught masturbating.
Louis has almost drifted out of consciousness, finally letting the blows to
his head take him into oblivion despite the pain, so when someone opens
the door, his eyes snap open. He is still disoriented, his head feeling as
though an axe has been left in his skull, splitting it open. He is shocked to
see several men enter the room, all wearing white robes. He thinks he
recognizes Adam and Terry among them, barely making out their features
in the dim light of the room, the overhead fixture barely cutting through the
overwhelming darkness. The last one to enter is Pastor Isaac, holding a
wooden cross and a Bible. What the actual fuck? When Louis opens his
mouth to ask that exact question, the men start chanting in some unknown
language. Fear grips Louis, making his breathing uneven, as he tries to fight
his restraints yet again.
Pastor Isaac goes to each of the occupants in the room, flicking water on
their faces as he mumbles something to each of them. Finally he moves
toward Louis, dumping the rest of the water on him, rinsing some of the
blood away, only for it to drip onto the pillow below his head. Louis
sputters, trying to blink away the water, each breath excruciating. “In the
Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.” He then
touches Louis’ forehead, stomach, and each shoulder, making the sign of
the cross. He does the same on himself, the rest of the people in the room
following suit.
“Most glorious Prince of the Heavenly Armies, Michael the Archangel,

defend us in our battle against principalities and powers, against the rulers
of this world of darkness, against the spirits of wickedness in the high
places,” Isaac starts, almost yelling the words over Louis’ body. Louis can
feel the spit flying from his mouth, landing in large drops on his exposed
skin. He flinches with every single one, feeling raw and vulnerable, as he is
naked and tied to a bed for them to do what they want with him.
“Come to the assistance of men whom God has created in His likeness and
whom He has redeemed at a great price from the tyranny of the Devil. The
Holy Church venerates you as her guardian and protector; to you, the Lord
has entrusted the souls of the redeemed to be led into Heaven. Pray
therefore the God of Peace to crush Satan beneath our feet, that he may no
longer retain men captive and do injury to the Church. Offer our prayers to
the Most High, that without delay they may draw His mercy down upon us;
take hold of the dragon, the old serpent, which is the Devil and Satan, bind
him and cast him into the bottomless pit, so that he may no longer seduce
the nations."
Fear grips Louis like a vice, shivers running down his entire body at the
Pastors words. Are they performing an exorcism? He thought those only
happened in the Catholic Church, but it seems he is wrong, so very, very
wrong. He begins to writhe in his restraints, each movement making them
dig into his already raw skin. He doesn't care. He has to try. He has to try
and get out of this. “Please don’t do this. I don’t want this. Please. I don’t
want you to do this!” He begs, his voice high and raspy from the tears
threatening to suffocate him. They are taking away his choice again. The
Pastor continues as if Louis didn’t even protest.
“In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen,”
they all say in unison, completely ignoring his pleas, making Louis’ entire
body break out in chillbumps. Louis feels like he is living in a horror
movie, the disturbing quality of the moment settling over his skin like a
thick wet blanket. Louis feels sick, his entire being shaking violently with
their words. He is terrified for his life. They could kill him if they wanted
to. They already have. They have killed a part of him, so they may as well
finish him off. Twist the fucking knife.
“Behold the Cross of the Lord, flee bands of enemies. The Lion of the tribe
of Judah, the offspring of David, hath conquered. May thy mercy, Lord,
descend upon us. As great as our hope in Thee.” Isaac presses the wooden
cross firmly into Louis’ sternum, right over his heart, making it even harder
for Louis to breathe. Louis cries out in pain, his broken ribs protesting the
Pastor’s act. He bucks up, but Issac holds firm, signaling for some of the
men to come and hold Louis’s arms and legs to the bed, further restricting
his movement. Their grips are tight, almost vice like, as they hold his joints
to the bed, his knees feeling as though they are about to snap with the force.
“We drive you from us, Demon of Perversion, whoever you may be,
unclean spirits, all satanic powers, all infernal invaders, all wicked legions,
assemblies and sects.” Isaac places his hand on Louis’ forehead. Louis tries
to move his head, fighting the hold, but Isaac just forces his hand down
harder, making Louis’ already injured head ache, impeding him from any
further movement. Louis closes his eyes, silent tears streaming down his
face, the salty water making the abrasions there sting more. “In the Name
and by the power of Our Lord Jesus Christ, may you be snatched away and
driven from the Church of God and from the souls made in the image and
likeness of God and redeemed by the Precious Blood of the Divine Lamb.”
“Please stop. Please let me go. I promise I’ll be good. I won’t try to escape.
I won’t fight. I will pray. I will worship. I will do whatever you want.
Please just stop. God please,” Louis begs, his breathing becoming uneven,
trying to stop the panic from taking over his body. Every single hand on
him feels like a violation, touching him without consent. How could God let
this happen to him? Does he deserve this? Does he deserve this for
questioning him and falling away from the church? Is this what God wants?
Apparently so. He wants him to be touched by the preacher’s dirty hands.
He wants him to feel defiled in his name. It’s working because Louis does.
“Most cunning serpent, Demon of Perversion, you shall no more dare to

deceive the human race, persecute the Church, torment God's elect and sift
them as wheat. The Most High God commands you, He with whom, in your
great insolence, you still claim to be equal. God who wants all men to be
saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth. God the Father commands
you. God the Son commands you. God the Holy Ghost commands you.
Christ, God's Word made flesh, commands you; He who to save our race
outdone through your envy, humbled Himself, becoming obedient even
unto death. He who has built His Church on the firm rock and declared that
the gates of Hell shall not prevail against Her, because He will dwell with
Her all days even to the end of the world. The sacred Sign of the Cross
commands you, as does the power of the mysteries of the Christian Faith.
The glorious Mother of God, the Virgin Mary, commands you; she who by
her humility and from the first moment of her Immaculate Conception
crushed your proud head. The faith of the Holy Apostles Peter and Paul,
and of the other Apostles commands you. The blood of the Martyrs and the
pious intercession of all the Saints command you,” Isaac screams, his face
red as his breathing gets heavier.
Louis can feel the panic rising in his throat, his own breath becoming
choppy, as if he can’t get any air. He is dying. He has to be. He hopes he is.
He tries to calm himself, but he can’t, not while they touch him. He feels
like the walls are closing in around him, can see the Devil’s image in the
face of the preacher. His body is battered and bruised, and he has no more
fight. What is the point when they have God on their side? He can’t fight
God. His body is hot, each of his senses firing at rapid speed, but his sight
feels hallowed, the world around him dim, except for the preacher.
“Thus, cursed dragon, and you, diabolical legions, we adjure you by the
living God, by the true God, by the Holy God, by the God who so loved the
world that He gave up His only Son, that every soul believing in Him might
not perish but have life everlasting; stop deceiving human creatures and
pouring out to them the poison of eternal damnation; stop harming the
Church and hindering her liberty,” Isaac continues, as if Louis isn’t dying
beneath him. The cross pressed to his chest feels like it is burning him, he
can almost smell his skin sizzling beneath it. Maybe that’s the point. Maybe
it is burning him because he has some diabolical spirit in him that is making
him do these things. That is what they seem to believe. That’s why they are
performing an exorcism. What if they’re right? What if what is in Louis,
making him feel these ways and do these unholy things, really is some sort
of demon? What if the Devil truly does have his hold on him, and all Louis
has been doing is fighting it?
“Be gone, Satan, Demon of Perversion, inventor and master of all deceit,
enemy of man's salvation. Give place to Christ in Whom you have found
none of your works; give place to the One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic
Church acquired by Christ at the price of His Blood. Stoop beneath the all-
powerful Hand of God; tremble and flee when we invoke the Holy Name of
Jesus, this Name which causes hell to tremble, this Name to which the
Virtues, Powers and Dominations of Heaven are humbly submissive, this
Name which the Cherubim and Seraphim praise unceasingly repeating:
Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord, the God of Hosts. Oh Lord, hear my prayer,
and let my cry come unto Thee. May the Lord be with thee and with thy
spirit. Let us pray.”
All the occupants in the room kneel, finally removing their hands, instead
placing them together as they bow their heads. Isaac stays standing,
looming over Louis’ panicking form. Louis can barely see through his tears,
each one larger then last, landing on the pillow under him to mingle with
the Holy Water and blood. There is nothing holy about his tears though.
They are right. There is nothing holy about him. He is deceitful, sick and
wrong. He is unholy. His acts are unholy. He hopes their exorcism works,
so that maybe he can be free of his tortured existence. Maybe God will
finally heal him.
“God of Heaven, God of Earth, God of Angels, God of Archangels, God of

Patriarchs, God of Prophets, God of Apostles, God of Martyrs, God of
Confessors, God of Virgins,” they all say in harmony, their voices blending
together perfectly. “God who has power to give life after death and rest after
work because there is no other God than Thee, and there can be no other,
for Thou art the Creator of all things, visible and invisible, of Whose reign
there shall be no end, we humbly prostrate ourselves before Thy glorious
Majesty and we beseech Thee to deliver us by Thy power from all the
tyranny of the infernal spirits, from their snares, their lies and their furious
wickedness.”
“Deign to thee vile demons. Oh Lord, grant us Thy powerful protection and
to keep us safe and sound,” Isaac commands, alone this time, his loud voice
echoing off the walls of the small room. “We beseech Thee through Jesus
Christ Our Lord. Amen. From the snares of the Devil, deliver us, Oh Lord.
That Thy Church may serve Thee in peace and liberty. We beseech Thee to
hear us. That Thou may crush down all enemies of Thy Church. We
beseech Thee to hear us.”
Louis thinks that is the end, because he is doused in more Holy Water. The
men file out of the room then, not bothering to untie him, leaving him there
crying, panting, and possibly dying, with his own blood, Holy Water, and
tears drying around him. He didn't feel as though a demon was ripped from
him. There was no shadowy spirit pulled from his body screaming. There
were no black eyes or chanting in Latin. Nothing like the movies, but Louis
does feel like something was taken from him. They can call it the Demon of
Perversion if they please or the Devil even, but Louis will always call it his
freedom.
_____________
“Why are we here?” Harry asks, looking around the somewhat crowded bar.
He can feel his limbs shaking with his nerves. He has no idea why he let his
friends convince him to come out. He was perfectly content laying in his
room, moping over Louis. It’s what he has been doing for the last few
weeks, aside from going to his therapy appointments with his mom and
sometimes Robin. Niall has visited him a few times, but they never left his
room really. Harry is depressed. He doesn’t have the motivation for
anything really. Louis has been gone for almost two months, and Harry just
doesn't see a reason to wake up most mornings. His therapist says that it is
normal, but there is nothing normal about Louis’ disappearance.
“We have to celebrate you getting your licence,” Niall tells him, clapping
him on the shoulder and shoving some cheese fries in his mouth. Harry
doesn’t want to celebrate, though. Everything reminds him of Louis,
including driving, but he still passed his test today. His first reaction was to
text Louis, but then his heart stuttered when he realized that Louis would
never get it. It’s strange how life has gone on without him, how his world
continued turning even though he was missing his Sun. He has been trying
to take it one day at a time, as cheesy as that sounds. Maybe Louis will
come back.
After weeks of trying, his mom and Robin finally got him to talk about
college because Harry always refused. College was supposed to be for him
and Louis. The prospect of facing it alone seems daunting, so that is why
Harry decided to switch his choice of schools. Robin helped him cancel his
plans to attend Stonewall in the fall. Instead, he is going to go somewhere a
bit closer to home. He doesn't hate home as much anymore, plus he will
have Niall and Liam there for support which he feels as though he will
need. He was registered for courses at Morgan University last week and
attended orientation with Niall and Liam. He was supposed to be going with
Louis and Jay up to Stonewall for orientation next week though, but Harry
supposes things change.
“I don’t wanna celebrate,” Harry responds, taking a sip of his water. He

glances down at his guitar case, a stab going through his chest because, yet
again, he is reminded of Louis. He remembers the moment he opened his
present. It was so special. Louis is so special. He blinks, his eyes stinging,
and looks away to find Niall’s eyes, trying to stay present in the
conversation and not get lost in the memories. The only thing that has been
in an upswing is his relationship with Anne. It is improving daily, and so is
his mental health, despite the depression and insomnia. He doesn't feel the
need to cut nor has he had that many panic attacks. Small steps. He has
been doing everything that the therapist asks of him, no matter how difficult
it is. He does want to get better, so if he sees Louis again, Louis can be
proud. He just wants to make him proud.
“You can’t keep laying around your house and doing nothing. You are
letting the summer slip away, so this is good for you, plus you’ll get to
show off your new guitar skills,” Niall reasons, making Harry wince when
he mentions the summer. They had so many plans this summer, and Niall is
right, Harry hasn’t done a single one of them. They just don’t seem like
they would be any fun without Louis by his side. He knows he sounds like a
broken record, but it’s true. His world feels dim, and he feels so numb. He
doesn't know if he will ever feel like himself again. He thought that Logan
broke him then Louis brought him back to life, but now he knows that’s not
the case. What Logan did was nothing in comparison to the pain feels now.
He never loved Logan like he loves Louis. He didn’t even know what love
was, but now he feels deep in his soul for a boy that has disappeared. He
truly feels dead inside. Some days are worse than others. There are
moments when Harry just wants to let the melancholy swallow him whole.
He picks up his guitar and practices in those moments, letting the songs that
he learned soothe him.
“This was a bad idea,” Harry says, glancing up at the small stage where a
microphone is sitting on its stand. It’s a Friday night, and they are in the
next town over. He doesn’t recognize anyone there yet, but that doesn’t help
his anxiety. He gets up from their table, going to the bar to get a drink. He
can’t legally drink, but he just really wants some water to help calm the heat
taking up residence in his stomach. He opens his wallet to retrieve his card
when a packet of lube catches his attention.
He always had some with him because he and Louis always seemed to do it
in the most inconvenient locations. Harry would keep the lube while Louis
would bring a condom. He hasn’t had the strength to take it out yet. He
can’t. That feels too much like finality, and he isn’t ready for that. So he
blinks back his tears over the smallest thing that seems to be staring at him
from the depths of his wallet. He closes it, leaving it there for the time
being. Maybe another day he will have the strength to remove it, but today
is not it. Today, Harry will continue to miss Louis with everything he has.
Instead of getting the water, he makes his way back to the table, sitting in
his seat. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and pictures the top of a
hill with the stars above him. Louis is always there with him, telling him he
is going to be alright. It is a visualization technique his therapist taught him
to use when he could feel himself starting to panic. It works as long as he
isn’t panicking over Louis.
“Oh! I forgot to tell you all. I finally got my mom to ask Mark why Louis
hasn’t been at church with the rest of their family. Everyone was curious,
but no one had the guts to ask. They just acted like he never came with
them, but Jay always seems off. She’s lost weight, and the girls looked sad.
Mom got the same answer as Harry. I was there when she asked. He even
used the same wording,” Liam tells them, somewhat changing the subject.
Harry perks up at that. Liam said he was going to try to get his mom to ask.
She was slightly afraid, but Harry guesses that her worry for Louis got the
better of her.
“That’s so shifty,” Harry says, mind whirring with this new information. It’s
not much, but it is something. They are trying to keep their story the same,
almost seeming like they had rehearsed it. The same feeling Harry had
gotten when he showed up at their house a month ago. The fact that they
didn’t even acknowledge Louis' disappearance until someone asked is a
huge red flag. Most people would tell everyone where he was automatically,
not hiding it until asked.
“Yeah. Like they’re trying to hide something,” Liam agrees, drinking from
his glass of soda and biting into a mozzarella stick, the white cheese
stretching until it breaks. Harry’s stomach growls. He hasn’t been eating a
whole lot lately, not having much of an appetite, but he grabs a mozzarella
stick from the shared basket. He dips it into the marinara sauce, sticking it
in his mouth to chew absentmindedly while he tries to think about where
Louis could be. He has a suspicion, but he really doesn't even want to
consider that.
“Yeah.. well they are hiding it ‘bout as well as a zebra in a horse pasture,”
Niall adds before taking his own mozzarella stick. Harry laughs at Niall’s
remark, still unsure of where he comes up with half of them. Louis loved
that kind of thing. If he was with them, he would be looking at Harry,
amusement making his blue eyes sparkle in the dim light, a smile wrinkling
his eyes. Harry’s heart stutters in his chest, wanting to stop again
completely. It doesn’t though. It resumes it’s normal actions as if it isn’t
aching with every thought.
“There is no way he is with his grandparents though. It’s just not possible.
That is a lie.” Harry has said it before, but he feels he needs to say it again.
It makes him feel better, almost as if saying it out loud makes it true. He
doesn’t feel like he is grasping at straws anymore. There are too many
people around him who agree that it sounds strange. Niall’s mother even
said it without prompting or knowing anything about Louis’ and Harry’s
secret relationship.
“Where is he then?” Liam asks, his eyes glazing over in thought. Harry
swallows the food in his mouth while he nods his head because that has
been the question on everyone’s mind. There is no way to answer it. He has
come up with the most obscure scenarios for where Louis could be. He has
a feeling in his heart that it isn’t good, and Louis isn’t happy. He feels sick
just thinking about it, hoping that maybe he is wrong. That Louis is happy
somewhere, and that he chose to be there. Harry doesn't know what haunts
him more. Louis choosing a life of happiness without him, or Louis being
somewhere against his will. Harry thinks it is the later because Louis being
hurt makes him feel ill.
“Okay everyone, we are gonna get started with our open mic night.”
Harry’s attention snaps to a girl on the stage, her voice carrying throughout
the room over the microphone. Harry swallows, a different kind of nausea
settling in, making his stomach twist into more knots, the mozzarella stick
he just ingested feeling like a brick. This was a bad idea. “First up, we have
a new face. His name is Harry Styles, so give him a round of applause.”
Harry freezes. He knew he would be first, but that doesn’t make this any
easier.
With Niall pushing him and Liam giving him a reassuring smile, he stands
up from the table, grabbing his guitar case. The only sound he hears is his
own footsteps echoing in his ears, despite the fact that people are still
clapping as he makes his way to the small stage. He sits his case down,
blinking back tears as he looks at the beautiful guitar inside. He almost sees
Louis’ reflection in the black shiny details. He closes his eyes, taking a deep
breath before he grabs it by its neck, pulling it from the case. He places the
strap around his body as he walks up to the mic. They have set up a smaller
one, so his guitar can be heard as well, and a stool for him to sit on. That’s
good because his legs are shaking so badly that he thinks they may give out
at any moment.
“Hello everyone. I’ve never-- um-- done this before, so if I suck or your
ears bleed, I’m sorry.” His wavering voice sounds strange to his own ears as
it is amplified throughout the room. The crowd laughs at his words, and
Niall shoots him an encouraging smile. He tries to smile back, but he isn’t
sure if it worked. He takes a seat on the stool, his legs quaking far to much
to continue standing. His face is hot, so hot, he knows he must be blushing.
“I have only been playing guitar for five months, so I may miss a few
chords. Again, I’m sorry, but yeah-- here goes.”
His arms are shaking so much, he can barely hold the guitar steady as
nerves flood his system. He hasn’t been this nervous over something since
the night he shared his story with Louis. This is a different kind of nerves,
though. The kind that you know will be over soon, you just have to get
through it. That night was more like jumping off a cliff, not knowing if he
would survive the fall. He knows he will survive this though, and he thinks
he may feel better afterwards. The song he chose has been special to him
for the past few weeks, so he takes a deep breath, and with trembling
fingers he begins to strum, closing his eyes and letting the chords wash over
him.
I'm so tired of being here

Suppressed by all my childish fears
And if you have to leave
I wish that you would just leave
‘Cause your presence still lingers here
And it won't leave me alone
These wounds won't seem to heal, this pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase
When you cried, I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream, I'd fight away all of your fears
And I held your hand through all of these years

But you still have all of me
You used to captivate me by your resonating light
Now, I'm bound by the life you left behind
Your face, it haunts my once pleasant dreams
Your voice, it chased away all the sanity in me
These wounds won't seem to heal, this pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase
But you still have all of me
I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone

But though you're still with me, I've been alone all along
You still have all of me, me, me
His voice breaks with the last line because it’s so fucking true, it hurts his
damaged soul. Louis does still have all of him. He gave himself to Louis
piece by broken piece in hopes that Louis may figure out a way to put him
back together. He started to. Harry almost felt healed after that night, but
then he shattered again the next day. He hopes that Louis knows, wherever
he may be, that he has Harry’s heart. He has his soul. He has every single
piece of Harry, and Harry is uncertain he even wants them back. He hopes
that maybe they are somehow helping Louis through whatever it is he is
going through.
Harry gets slammed back down to reality when the room erupts in applause.
He almost forgot that he was singing to a crowd of people, feeling as
though he was just singing to himself in an empty room with just the walls
to keep him company. He is shocked when he feels a tear roll down his
cheek. He feels his face heating even more, as he quickly wipes it away. He
looks up to catch Liam’s mouth open in surprise before he smiles and
beings to clap with the rest of the people in the bar. Niall breaks his grin
long enough to wolf whistle, resuming his clapping, louder than anyone else
in the room, but Harry still feels as though someone is missing. Can almost
see his crinkled smile, the pride in his blue eyes.
Harry gets up from the stool slowly, then packs up his guitar before exiting
the stage. He finds that he didn’t hate the experience. He almost feels
exhilarated. He just wishes Louis was here to see him. He may have even
been able to convince Louis to come up and sing with him. His voice is
lovely, high and raspy. Just thinking about it makes Harry’s heart ache. He
tries to smile as he walks back to their table, the nerves transforming to
adrenaline with his job well done.
“That was great, Haz!” Liam praises, the nickname making Harry flinch.
He knows Liam didn’t mean to use it, nor what those types of names do to
Harry. Niall has stayed away from them, but he understands more about
Harry’s past than Liam. Harry tries to shrug it off and smile at his friend,
accepting the compliment. Everyone in the room is glancing over at him,
seemingly curious, but Harry tries not to pay them attention. The announcer
comes back on stage then to introduce the next singer.
“See it wasn’t that bad,” Niall says, clapping Harry on the shoulder, his
smile wide, showing all of his teeth. He is set to get his braces removed
next week. Harry knows he is excited to have it done before college,
proclaiming that he will be a ladies man when he gets there. Harry thinks
it’s funny, but he knows he will probably end up being his ‘wingman’ even
though he is going to do his best to pass that responsibility over to Liam.
Harry doesn't know the first thing about women. The only thing he has in
common with them is that he likes cock as well, and some women don’t
even like that.
“Yeah. I’d like to do it again sometime,” Harry responds with a small smile.
He means it. Maybe when college starts up they can come here again. He
could perform an original song eventually. Now that he has a better
understanding of music, he has been using the song notebook that Louis
gifted him with to turn some of his poems into songs. He doesn’t know if
they are any good, but he thinks that playing them may be somewhat
therapeutic.
They spend the rest of the night talking about college, the courses they are
registered for, and eating far too much food. Harry finds that he does enjoy
it, and that maybe Niall was right. Maybe he can’t just sit in his room and
let his misery swallow him whole. Louis wouldn’t want that. He hates that
sometimes he thinks about Louis almost as if he is dead, but he is just gone.
He hopes he isn’t dead at least. Harry used to hate hope, but that is all he
has to hold on to these days. He doesn’t know how long he can keep it in
his grasp though. He feels it slipping away, almost as though he is trying to
hold on to something intangible. Like the ghost of his memories.
They get back to Harry’s place around 10 pm, the rain made it hard for
Harry to see as they drove. It started thundering while they were at the bar,
and pouring as soon as they made it into the car. Harry hates thunderstorms.
They usually mean he won’t be able to sleep. Robin and Anne are home,
and still awake, despite it being slightly late for them. Niall and Liam come
inside, not ready for the night to end, so they find themselves all sitting in
the living room, a movie playing in the background as they talk.
“I swear to God, I thought Anne was going to tan our hides when I brought
Harry home on the back of my four wheeler, covered from head to toe in
mud. She wouldn’t let us in the house! She made us stand on the porch
while she took the water hose to us, rinsing us off first. That still wasn’t
good enough, so she made use take off our breeches and shirts in the yard.
So we are standing in just our underwear, wet as dogs and shivering like a
fucking chihuahua needing to piss as she puts our now wet clothes in a trash
bag. She made us stand out there like that while she took her sweet ass time
to grab us some towels. I swear I thought my balls were gonna freeze off,”
Niall says through his laughter, making Harry and Liam laugh as well.
“It was June! The sun was shining. It wasn’t that cold, Niall. You’re
exaggerating,” Anne defends, rolling her eyes and playfully smacking Niall
on the shoulder, making him laugh harder. She is telling the truth, it wasn’t
that cold, but it’s funny all the same. Harry knows Louis would love this
story. He probably would have been taking mental notes of all of Niall’s
southern phrases to ask Harry about later. Harry tries to push his mind away
from that. He has gone almost a whole half an hour without thinking about
Louis. It is really the longest he has gone since Louis disappeared. Harry’s
head snaps up when the doorbell rings, followed by loud knocks.
“Who could that be?” Robin asks, glancing at the clock on the wall. Harry
looks at all of the faces in the room, their confused expressions mirroring
his own. Harry has no idea. Everyone he cares about is in the room except
for one person. Louis. Excitement courses through Harry’s system at that
thought. What if it’s Louis? What if he escaped wherever he has been and
came back to him? It could be, right? It could be Louis. He came back to
Harry.
Harry allows the hope he thought he had lost take hold again, making his
heart beat rapidly with it. Who else could it be? It has to be Louis. He came
back to Harry. Harry almost begins crying as he stands. He ignores
everybody’s concerned expression, not saying a word. He doesn't trust his
voice right now. He knows it will break with emotion if he even tries to tell
them that he is going to answer. Once he is standing on somewhat shaking
legs he walks to the door, desperately wanting to run. With a trembling
hand he reaches for the door knob, turning it, almost feeling as though
everything is in slow motion. His heart certainly isn’t because it feels as
though it is about to beat out of chest.
Chapter End Notes
*Dodges Niall and Liam in that order because you are probably
throwing them at me at this point*
If you're wondering where I got the text for the exorcism, I found it
online (more than one location mind you). It is an actual post from
Catholic.org , but don't worry guys, there is a disclaimer at that says
"to be said by a priest only". Laid ease.
Hurt
Chapter Summary
I am extremely sorry, but look for the light.

Chapter Notes
unsure. Thank you

with the emotions/theme of the chapter. I included both the 9 Inch
Nails version and the Johnny Cash one because the Johnny Cash one is
superior.
Beneath the stains of time

The feelings disappear
You are someone else
I am still right here- Nine Inch Nails
“Are you Harry?” Disappointment floods Harry’s system when he opens the
door to find a young boy, close to his age, standing on the other side. He is
soaking wet, his dark blond curls sticking to his face and neck. He is
wearing a dirty blue button down shirt, his shorts looking equally as filthy.
In his hands is what seems to be a wadded up blanket. Harry has no idea
who the boy is, but he seems to know Harry’s name, obviously needing
help. Harry’s mouth is open in shock, as he nods dumbly at the boys
question. His hazel eyes meet Harry’s, an honesty there that hurts Harry’s
chest. “I’m so glad I found you! I’m Ashton. Louis told me to tell you that
he sent me.”
“Louis?” Harry asks, the name coming out on a breath. Louis. As in Harry’s
Louis. Well he used to be his Louis until he disappeared without a word.
This can’t be real. It has to be a fucking dream or some sick fucking prank,
however the boy definitely said ‘Louis’ and Harry doesn't know another
person with that name. He can feel his eyes begin to well with tears as he
takes a few steps back from the boy, as if moving away from him will help
him think, help him process the information he just received. Ashton? Louis
sent him? What the fuck?
“Yeah. Umm-- It’s kind of a long story. I--I know you don’t know me, but I
need help. Louis… He said you would help me. Please,” Ashton’s eyes are
pleading, seemingly on the verge of tears, his voice cracking with the last
word. It is then that Harry realizes the boy is shivering, his entire body
shaking. He has to be freezing. He is also skinny, too skinny, as if he hasn’t
eaten a proper meal in far too long. His face is dirty, a thin layer of grime
covering his skin where it has smeared with the rain.
“Oh Gods. Yeah. Come in. Are you okay?” Harry asks, stepping out of the
way to let the boy into the entryway, his wet shoes squeaking on the floor.
Harry has to bite his tongue to keep himself from bombarding Ashton with
the questions that are currently flooding his mind about Louis. Harry is
almost positive he would have collapsed to the floor, overcome by tears of
relief, if Ashton didn’t look to be in such bad shape.
“Honey, who's at the door?” Comes his mom’s voice as Harry leads Ashton
into the living room. The room is suddenly quiet, and Harry is sure he could
hear a pin drop if one so happened to fall. All eight eyes of varying shades
are on them, different degrees of confusion marring their features. They are
probably wondering why Harry let a stranger, who is filthy and dripping
wet, into their house. Harry is wondering the same thing, but he doesn’t
need a reason beyond the fact that this boy knows Louis. He probably
knows where Louis is.
“This is um-- Ashton. He says Louis sent him,” Harry tells them, his voice
wavering with emotion. He glances over to find Ashton waving at the group
with an awkward smile as he rocks back and forth on his heels. It reminds
him of the action Louis does when he is nervous, and he wonders exactly
how much time they have spent together. Where they were. What they were
doing. The list of questions go on and on with no end in sight. It feels like it
takes an eternity for the other shoe to drop and the group, as a collective, to
process the information just presented, but when they do, they all start
talking at once.
Ashton's eyes are wide, and he subconsciously moves closer to Harry when
he gets assaulted with question after question from each member present.
Harry has to admit, he wants to ask them all as well, but Ashton looks
scared as fuck, shaking even more than he had been before. Harry winces
when he hears a loud whistle, looking over at the person who made the
obnoxious noise. It has the desired effect because the room falls into
silence, everyone looking around at each other for the answers that only
Ashton seems to have. Robin takes his fingers out of his mouth, looking
around the room before he starts to speak, “Anne, you and I are gonna go
get Jay. I will stay with the girls and you can bring her back here. In the
meantime, Harry take Ashton to the bathroom and let him shower, grab him
some warm clothes to wear. Liam and Niall, make him something to eat. It
looks like he is starving.”
“She is not gonna leave if Mark’s home,” Harry points out, shaking his head
in the negative. Ashton is staying quiet, looking between Harry and Robin.
Niall and Liam both have the same expression on their faces, shock. Niall's
blue eyes are wide, Liam’s mouth open in a small ‘o’, his dark brows
drawn. Harry understands that. He is barely holding it together as it is. All
he wants to do is sit on the floor and cry, but he shouldn't be relieved just
yet. He has no idea what Ashton is about to tell them. It could be bad. Fuck.
Harry never thought of that. Louis isn’t with him, what if he’s hurt? What if
he is laying in a ditch somewhere, dying, and they are here chatting about a
homophobic bible thumper? Surely Ashton would have spoken up by now.
“Mark isn’t there. He is gone for two weeks for some kind of military
training he is obligated to do every summer. I know because we were
planning the orientation for the boys around it. That’s why I was going to
go and try to speak with her tomorrow,” Anne pipes in, all eyes turning to
her, including Harry’s. That’s right. It makes perfect sense. Harry knew that,
it just slipped his mind with everything else that was happening. Fuck. This
may be it.
“Okay, let’s go see if we can convince her to come back with you,” Robin
says, getting up from the couch, Anne following him. “Boys, you know
what to do. Ashton, please make yourself welcome in our home. We won’t
hurt you. We will be back as soon as we can.” Robin pats Ashton on the
shoulder, and Anne nods in agreement, smiling at him. Ashton smiles back
in response, the action not quite reaching his haunted eyes. What the fuck
happened to him? Harry bites back the question as his parents wave to the
collective group before going out the door, their sound being swallowed by
the rain.
“Ashton. This is Liam and Niall. They are friends of-- um-- mine and
Louis’,” Harry introduces, the awkward silence filling the room almost too
much for him to bear. It makes him feel squirmy, and he had always
depended on Louis to fill it. Louis isn’t here though. He hasn’t been for a
long time, and they are so close to finding out why. They just have to wait
for Jay. It was probably smarter to try to bring her here first, and not to
make Ashton say whatever he is about to tell them more than once. It could
be traumatic.
“Hey, man. I’m gonna go get you something to eat. Do you have any
preferences?” Liam asks, standing up and shaking Ashton’s hand, Niall
following suit. Ashton isn’t shivering as much anymore, but there is still a
slight tremble to his hands. His clothes are still soaked, a puddle having
dripped onto the floor surrounding him.
“Last time I was asked that question, this is what happened,” Ashton says,
gesturing towards himself. It takes Harry a solid minute to get his joke, but
when he does, a chuckle is ripped from his chest, despite the melancholy in
the room. Niall outright laughs, and Liam just smiles at him. A pang hits
Harry’s chest shortly after because the statement reminds him of something
Louis would have said. “Seriously though, I don’t. I’m just hungry. I’ll eat
anything.”
“Alright,” Liam responds, with a nod, heading towards the kitchen.
“I’m sorry about the mess,” Ashton apologizes, looking down at his feet
then back up to Niall and Harry. He is still clutching the dirty blanket in his
hand like a life line. Harry wonders what’s in it, but he won’t ask. He isn’t
sure Ashton wants him to know yet. Whatever it is, seems like it is
important to Ashton, since he has been clutching it like a security blanket
since the first moment Harry laid eyes on him.
“No worries. It’s okay. I’ll clean it up,” Niall jumps in, smiling at Ashton to
hopefully ease his mind. Harry is so thankful that Liam and Niall are here.
He glances at the clock, noticing his parents have been gone for at least five
minutes, they need to hurry this along or Jay will be back while they are
waiting for Ashton to finish with his shower.
“This way,” Harry says, tapping Ashton on the the arm. He sees him flinch
at the touch. He does a good job of covering it up, but it’s there. Harry
would notice that behavior anywhere since he reacted the same way to any
slight form of touching for the longest time. Still does some days. He makes
a mental note not to touch Ashton without allowing the other boy to see it
first. He did much better when it was a touch he knew was coming. It brings
him back to the question of what the fuck happened though. His head has
been swimming with those types of questions since the moment he opened
door. They are eating at him, but he knows he needs to wait. Logically, he
knows that, but it doesn’t stop the questions from forming in his throat only
to die with the bite of his tongue.
“Here’s the bathroom. The shower is easy, just umm-- twist the knob and
push in the thingy,” Harry explains lamely, gesturing towards the bathroom.
Ashton goes in, laying the blanket on the toilet seat, then immediately
taking off his shirt and shorts. Harry tries not to wince when he sees the
light scratches on his back and his ribs showing through his skin, all fat
gone. The rest of his body is just as filthy as his face and arms, grime in
almost every crevice, his elbow scraped as if he had fallen recently. He
looks rough, and Harry’s heart breaks a tiny bit for the stranger. The
stranger that is apparently friends with Louis.
“I’ll put these in the wash,” Harry says, bending to grab Ashton’s clothes.
They are freezing, so it is no wonder Ashton was violently shivering,
despite the warm weather, when he had them on. He stands for a moment to
watch Ashton follow his directions, the shower coming to life. It doesn’t
hurt Harry to look at the shower anymore, but for the first three days he
couldn’t bear to be in it any longer than he had to. He turns to leave when
he thinks Ashton is about to remove his underwear, wanting to give him
some privacy.
“Harry,” Ashton starts, his voice hesitant. Harry slowly turns around to look
at him. “I know you don’t know me, but I feel like I know you. I’m just a
stranger to you, but, fuck, I’ve heard so much about you. So much. I know
you have some trust issues, but I promise you that Louis sent me. This isn’t
some sick joke. He’s my friend. He’s my brother. I don’t know what you
want me to do to prove it to you, but he-- like-- told me that he asked you to
prom with signs and a guitar pick. He--umm--- he got you to start talking to
him by passing you notes. He said that the first time he kissed you was
because you were yelling at him, and he needed to shut you up. You all
danced together on New Years Eve to Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls…”
“Ashton. Ashton,” Harry interrupts, closing his eyes as the bittersweet

memories assault him once more. He holds up his free hand as if to placate
a wild animal. He almost feels like he is though, Ashton’s voice taking on
an almost hysteric quality. “I believe you. I don’t think you would randomly
show up to my door saying that my boy-- umm-- my friend that disappeared
over two months ago, sent you. So relax. He’s right. We will take care of
you.”
“Thank you, and you can call me Ash. All my friends do. Also, feel free to
burn those clothes. I never want to see them again for as long as I live,”
Ashton says, gesturing down to the items in Harry’s hands. Harry looks
down, too. He knows that Ashton was trying to play it off as a joke, but he
can hear the seriousness in his words. He really never wants to see them
again; the very idea seems to frighten him. Harry wonders if he was forced
to wear them. If Louis was forced to wear them. Or possibly still is.
“Okay, Ash. I’ll get right on that. I’ll go get you some clean clothes to wear
while you wash up. My stuff may be big, but at least it will be warm,”
Harry tells him, bending once more to pick up his water logged shoes,
barely suppressing a grimace. They must have been awful to walk around
in. Harry knows dirty. He has had to go without a shower for a week before
when their power was cut off due to an outstanding balance on their power
bill, but he couldn’t imagine walking around in soaking wet shoes.
“Oh and Harry,” Harry freezes again, swallowing because Ashton’s tone
sounds serious. He looks up to find Ashton’s eyes wide, as if whatever he is
about to say isn’t easy for him. Harry lets him take his time but has to hold
his breath to keep from rushing him. Ashton licks his lips, opening his
mouth and closing it again. “I --um-- I know you’re probably worried sick
about him, but he wanted me to tell you he’s okay. I don’t know if that is a
lie at this point or not, but that’s what he wanted me to tell you.”
“Oh--okay,” Harry responds numbly, turning around and walking out the
door. As soon as it’s shut, Harry sinks to the floor, the tears finally spilling
over. He is both relieved and scared to death. He has a sick feeling in the pit
of his stomach that wherever Louis is and has been, he isn’t okay. His mind
whirrs with all of the new information, different scenarios popping into his
head as to where Louis could be, none of them are good. That makes
Harry’s body shake with silent sobs, not wanting to let Ashton, Niall, and
Liam know what’s happening to him. After a few minutes, Harry manages
to gather himself and stands up on shaking limbs. He can do this. He has to,
for Louis. Louis needs him to be strong.
While Ashton finishes up in the shower, Harry tries to keep himself busy or
else the panic will swallow him whole. He places Ashton’s sodden shoes on
the porch for them to dry then he throws away the clothes, taking the trash
out to get them as far away from Ashton as possible. He just knows that
Ashton won’t want to see them anymore. Wherever they came from
obviously gives him bad memories. Harry gets the creeps just from looking
at them. He doesn't know why but he hates them just as much as Ashton
seems to, so he wants them out of his house. He goes into his room, picking
out some sweat pants and a shirt for Ashton to wear, slipping them in the
bathroom just as Ashton turns off the water.
“I feel so much better,” Ashton proclaims, coming out of the bathroom in

his borrowed clothes. He looks better. Now that he has washed away all of
the dirt, Harry can see his features. He has a strong jaw, wide face, dimples,
and a cleft chin. His hair is clean now, the curls hanging in wet ringlets over
his face and near his ears. He is still holding that damn blanket, and Harry is
itching to know what’s inside of it. It looks even more dirty than it did
before, contrasting with Asthon’s now clean skin. What the hell has he and
the blanket been through?
“Great. Liam and Niall made you a sandwich. Mom just texted me. Her and
Jay, Louis’ mom, should be here any minute. She said it didn’t take as much
convincing as they were expecting, but yeah,” Harry tells him, leading
Ashton to the kitchen where Niall and Liam are already sat around the large
table. They smile at them when they walk in, Ashton sitting down and
immediately stuffing almost half the sandwich in his mouth, chewing
quickly then drinking some water. Harry sits beside him, communicating
with Niall through their eyes.
“I’m sorry. I haven’t really eaten much in the last two weeks,” Ashton
apologizes, looking up from his sandwich at them through blonde
eyelashes. He is blushing, so they are quick to assure him that it’s okay,
Liam rushing to make him another since it seems like he could use it. An
awkward silence falls on the room as Ashton eats, none of them wanting to
discuss the giant pink elephant in the room. He could probably cut the
tension with a knife at this point. He jumps when he hears the front door
open, and a few seconds later Anne and Jay walk into the kitchen. Jay looks
tearful, her blue eyes, so much like Louis’, finding Ashton quickly. He has
just finished his second sandwich, followed by chugging the rest of his
water.
“Well you look a lot better,” Anne says, smiling and patting Ashton on the
shoulder. He nods once, watching her sit down, Jay taking the seat directly
across from him. Niall and Liam are glancing around at everyone
awkwardly while Harry has to bite his lip to keep the questions at bay. The
tension in the room is palpable, almost like a living, breathing monster has
it’s hand around Harry’s throat, keeping the breath inside his lungs. He
resists the urge to scratch at his arm, the marks healed but the phantom pain
from them remaining. He tries to take a few deep breaths, Louis’ voice in
his head asking him what he sees, hears, feels, tastes, and smells, just like
he used to do to ground him.
“So um-- Ashton-- do you know where Louis is?” Jay asks, her question
hesitant. Harry’s mouth pops open in shock and he can’t stop his question to
her from tumbling out of his lips.
“You don’t?” He can’t believe it. He had thought Jay knew where Louis
was all along. He had no idea that she was just as much in the dark as the
rest of them. What the actual fuck? How could she not know? Did he run
away or something? He had to if she doesn’t know where he is. Maybe he
just left his phone and a note or something. That is more than Harry got
from him though. Fuck. She must be worried sick. He looks at Jay with
wide eyes, but she seems to be hesitant to say whatever she is thinking there
he adds, “Don’t worry. You can say whatever you want to. There are no
secrets here.” Harry has no idea what Ashton knows, but he is no longer
ashamed of his sexuality.
“No. I-- um-- the day of graduation, when he came home, Mark was beside
himself with anger, and Louis tried to cover up where he'd been. He came
out to us in the heat of the moment. He said that you and him were an-- um-
- an item,” she starts, tears welling in her eyes. Harry blinks a few times,
willing his own tears away. Holy fucking shit. Louis came out to them. On
graduation day. The day after Harry poured out his heart to him. Harry
swallows, trying to process the information, but his head is spinning. He is
glad he is sitting down, because he is afraid his knees would have given
way with her simple sentence. There’s more. He knows there is more, so he
quietly waits.
“Mark was furious, and I was just shocked. I mean, I kind of had my
suspicions, but I was happy living in blissful ignorance I guess,” She
continues, sniffling. Anne gives her a tissue from the box on the table, and
takes her hand. Jay looks at her gratefully, squeezing it before she begins to
speak again. “They had a huge argument, and Mark smashed his phone. I
was with them in the room, but I couldn’t do anything. I just had to watch.
The next thing I knew, Mark is dragging him out of the house and into to
the car. I think Louis may have tried to run at one point, because I
remember Mark tackling him, saying something to him that I couldn’t hear.
Then Mark took him away. He just dragged him out of the house, and I felt
so helpless.” Her tears are making her throat clogged, and Harry swallows,
completely unsure of how to handle the new onslaught of information. This
is so much worse than he could have imagined.
“He just took him. I was so scared and so confused. I have never seen Mark
that angry. I knew that if I tried to say anything, or tried to help Louis in any
way I would only make matters worse. He has threatened to beat me over
less. He came back several hours later looking smug with himself, saying
that he had taken him somewhere he could get help for his disease. I tried to
ask him where he had taken Louis since he seemed like he had calmed
down a lot. He was in a great mood even, like he gets after receiving a
promotion at work, but all I got as an answer was a slap across the face and
was told never to ask him that question again. He has threatened to hit me
and punish me before, when I have overstepped my place, but he has never
actually done it.” She is crying harder now, her hand coming up to her
cheek, rubbing it absentmindedly and Harry’s heart drops to somewhere in
the region of the pits of Hell. He feels like he is going to be sick. How could
someone be that horrible of a human being? First taking her son, then
hitting her for asking questions.
“I swear I’m not a bad mom, Harry. I swear. I just… I just…” Her sentence
is cut off when she chokes on a sob. “I told Mark right after that I would go
to the cops if he didn’t tell me where he was, but Mark said he would beat
me if I did, to teach me my proper place as his wife, then just tell them that
Louis ran away from home. That it would be my word against his. He is in
the military. They aren’t gonna believe me over him. He said that if I went
to the cops, he would take the girls away from me. That I would lose all of
my children because I’m a horrible mom who raises a-- a-- an abomination
for a son. I didn’t know what to do. I was so scared. I don’t know where
Louis is or if he is okay, or even where he has taken him. The girls are
terrified that Mark is going to punish them, too. I don’t have a job. I can’t
support the girls, and he would win in a case against me because of that. I
am helpless. If I leave him, he will never tell me where he has taken Louis.
I am scared if I leave him he will track us down and do something stupid.
Oh God! Please tell me Louis is okay. Please. I’m a good mom. I swear. I
swear to God I am. I would never abandon any of them willingly I promise.
I just…” Her body is shaking with her cries now, as she bows her head in
defeat. Anne wraps her arms around her, looking around at the group
obviously holding back her own tears.
Harry doesn't know what to do. Jesus fucking Christ. He knew Mark was a
terrible human being, but what kind of person would do that to someone
they supposedly love? He thought he would be angry with Jay, but he isn’t.
She was helpless and in a terrible situation. She probably didn’t see
anything she could do figuring, that if she waited long enough, she would
know. Mark basically kidnapped her son then held that and the threat of
violence over her head, to keep her from leaving him. His throat feels like
it’s closing up, the tears threatening to suffocate him. Mark couldn’t have.
He wouldn’t have. Would he?
“Mark took him to straight camp. Or, as they like to call it, ‘reparative
therapy’,” Ashton confirms, his voice wavering. Harry’s head snaps to him,
wanting to call him a liar, but Ashton does not have the look of someone
who is lying. He looks haunted by the words, not so distant memories
dancing in front of his gaze that the rest of them can’t see.
“Fuck,” Harry breathes, placing his face in his hands, his own tears falling.
This can’t be happening. Harry’s worst fears have just been confirmed. He
didn’t want to believe the worst, that Louis had somehow ended up in
straight camp, but the thought has been in the back of his mind, nagging at
him. He isn’t naive enough to believe that places like that don’t exist. He
lives in the south for fucks sake. There is probably one within a few hours
drive. “Is he… what are they doing to him?”
“Umm-- He’s okay. Well he was when I left him two weeks ago. We were
supposed to escape together, but that didn’t end up happening. He-- um--
sacrificed himself for me. I begged him to let me go back with him, or to
come with me, but he pushed me away. He told me to go find you, and that
you would help me. I-- I can’t-- I’m not ready to talk about what they did to
us, and I don’t know everything they did to him. Everything they are still
doing. Please. Help him. Get him out of there. What they are doing-- fuck--
it’s so wrong. What they did to me…” Ashton’s words die in his throat, too
overcome by emotions to continue.
Harry knows that look. It’s the same look he saw in the mirror after what
happened with Logan. It’s the look of a person who is so traumatized; he
doesn’t even want to think about what has happened to him. He can’t
process it. The idea of seeing that same look on Louis’ face has Harry’s
heart breaking and his stomach turning over. Harry wipes his eyes, fat tears
running down his face. They have to help him. They have to get him out.
They have to do something. Anything. He’s been there alone for two weeks
without his friend. Does he have anyone else? Have they been starving him
or doing aversion therapy? Harry is definitely going to be sick, the food he
had eaten at the club feeling like a brick in his stomach.
“Oh God. Do you know where it is? Do you know what it’s called?” Anne
asks, Jay nodding, too choked up to even get the questions out. Harry
understands that. He looks at Liam and Niall to see how they are fairing.
Liam’s eyes are watery, and Niall just seems to be in shock. Harry seconds
that. He is shocked as well. He hates that he almost expected this, but didn’t
allow himself to believe it. The reality far too painful, so he wanted to live
in a fantasy. He almost wishes Louis would have just ran away. At least
then he would be happy. He wouldn’t have been taken somewhere against
his will, forced into something so traumatic.
“Yeah. It’s called Reclaiming Rainbows. I can give you directions. I just…
Please-- don’t make me go back there. Please! I’m begging you! I don’t
have anywhere else to go, but I would rather live on the streets than go back
there! Please don’t make me go back. I can’t. I can’t…” Ashton is hysterical
now, tears rolling down his cheeks at the thought that they might force him
back into straight camp. His face is red, snot coming out of his nose. His
breathing is becoming irregular, and Harry can spot a panic attack from a
mile off. He does the first thing he can think of, he wraps his arms around
the younger boy. At least, Harry thinks he is younger, but they are around
the same age.
“We're not gonna make you go back there, Ash. You have a home now. You
can stay with us. We aren't gonna kick you out. We will accept you here,”
Harry says, his voice cracking with his words. Ashton sobs into his chest,
the last two weeks seeming to finally catch up to him. Two weeks. Holy
shit. He has been running for two weeks, trying to find his way to them. He
doesn’t have a home. He has been living on the streets or in the woods. No
wonder he looked filthy and skinny. He probably hasn’t eaten anything
substantial in that amount of time either. Harry glances at his mom through
his tears, who nods in confirmation of his words.
After they get Ashton to calm down, the entire room erupts, like some kind
of command center. Everyone is designated a job relating to either Jay,
Louis or Ashton, and all Harry can do is sit in numb silence. Ashton tells
them how to get to Reclaiming Rainbows. They also talk at length about
what Jay is going to do in terms of Mark, and they ultimately decide that
the best course of action is to help Jay leave Mark while he is away on
training. He had only left earlier that day, so that gives her two weeks to try
and work something out. Anne calls Robin, who is staying with the girls,
filling him in on the events. He assures Jay that he can help her get a job,
even with limited experience, and that he knows a great divorce attorney.
He also assures her that Mark will be arrested for kidnapping once she gets
the cops involved and possibly face even more charges.
Anne volunteers to try to contact Ashton’s parents and see if they are
willing to sign legal guardianship over to her and Robin, seeing as they
have clearly disowned him and have no care for his well being. If they
won’t, then they will just help Ashton get his General Education Diploma
by way of testing and at the very least offer him a safe place to stay. Ashton
is adamant that they don’t want him anymore, which hurts Harry’s soul.
Harry thinks of all of the gay youth out there who have been disowned by
their parents, tossed away, to the curb with the garbage on Tuesday, and his
heart hurts for them. Most of them don’t have a place to go, or people that
can help them. They are alone.
Jay is going to go to the police station first thing in the morning to file a
report with the authorities. Hopefully, they will leave right away with the
information she and Ashton will be able to provide. They should have
enough evidence against Mark and information about Reclaiming Rainbows
to know it isn’t a respectable institution. It is far too late to go right now,
and nothing will be done before morning. Harry knows he isn’t go to sleep.
He is too anxious, thinking about Louis, and what is going to happen in the
morning. He feels better knowing where Louis is, and that he will be home
soon. Safe, but there is still a gnawing feeling in his gut.
They decide that he won't be going with her, as much as he wants to. Since
they don’t really know what Louis’ mental state will be, it probably
wouldn’t be a good idea. Harry hates that thought. He hates that Louis may
actually fear him when he sees him. He doesn't know what to expect
though, but judging by the expression on Ashton’s face, the fear, he knows
it won’t be good. Harry takes a few deep breaths, telling himself, that no
matter what, he needs to hold on for Louis. Harry’s leg jogs under the table
with his desire to leave right fucking now. He knows tomorrow will be
better. He just hopes tomorrow won’t be too late.
__________
Louis has no idea what day it is, how long he has been in isolation, or even
if the sun or moon is currently occupying the sky. The silence is deafening,
driving him nearly insane at first. He has never been alone for this amount
of time. He has never been alone at all, always having someone nearby
since his parents kept him on such a tight leash. He didn’t know how to be
alone, and at first, it was terrifying. Now he has just accepted it. He has
accepted a lot about his fate, his life. The only time he comes into contact
with people is when Isaac comes in to speak to him, then Dr. Thompson
comes in to give him his aversion therapy, usually accompanied by a few
counselors. They were told not to speak to him, though. He just doesn't
know how often that happens, no way to even mark the days on the
calendar since he has no access to the sun.
“I hate it here,” Louis says out loud, not for the first time. He knew when he
started talking to himself, he was starting down a dark path, but he didn’t
really feel like he had much choice. At first, he pretended it was Harry or
Ashton, but now he doesn't know who it is. He just knows he needs to get
the thoughts in his head out into the silence as a way to slice through it.
Anything is better than the nothingness surrounding him, closing in on him,
so Louis talks to someone. Perhaps an imaginary friend. Perhaps God.
“Harry’s voice is gone,” Louis goes on, a tear rolling down his cheek. He
used to hear it daily. Arguing with the counselors, preacher, and Dr.
Thompson, but it has quietened, allowing the silence to take over. It scared
Louis at first, not hearing Harry’s voice. He misses it more than he misses
food. He has come to accept the fact that he will never hear it again, the
same way he has resigned himself to the starvation. He looks down at his
body, frail and thin. He can see his ribs, but at least they gave him some
clothing back. His wrists are so bony, Louis often wonders if they will
break when he is allowed out here. If he ever is.
“At first, my stomach hurt, actually hurt, from the hunger. I thought it
would get easier, but I was crying. Crying for food. Anything. They would
only give it to me if I agreed to talk to them. Agreed to say…” Louis’ voice
breaks, the walls of his cell staring back at him. He gets food a bit more
now that he has been cooperating, but he was so close to his freedom. He
doesn't even know if Ashton made it. They won’t tell him. The thought of
Ashton sitting in a cell adjacent to his, going through the same thing has
Louis clutching his chest, not for the first time.
“I sleep with my hands bound, like they don’t trust me. They’re right. I’m
not trustworthy. I’m a terrible excuse for a human being. I do things that are
against nature. I don’t know who I am anymore. I look down at myself, this
body, and I don’t recognize it. I don’t know if my thoughts are my own. I
don’t even know if I am saying this out loud or in my head. If there were a
mirror in here, I would shatter it because that’s the only way it would reflect
who I am.” Louis feels like the walls are starting to close in around him
again. He shuts his eyes, taking a few deep breaths telling himself that they
aren’t. That is the only way to stop them. He has learned that the hard way
after having a few panic attacks, thinking they were going to suffocate him.
“They tell me I’m not gay. That I am a christian. That I believe in God. That
I am not in love with a man. They tell me that Harry hates me and is the
embodiment of evil. I have to agree with them and repeat it or they won’t
give me any food. They won’t let me sleep. I’m weak. I’m so weak, and I’m
so disappointed in myself for giving in, for giving them what they want. I
don’t remember… I don’t… who I was before this, and I think that may be
a good thing. God… I think it may be a good thing because if I don’t
remember then maybe I won’t go back to that, to the lifestyle that brought
me to this. Maybe I was supposed to be someone different, and they helped
me see that. Wrong and right. Good and evil.”
“The guilt, it feels like it’s suffocating me. My sisters are going to be
tortured in Hell because of me and my decisions. Thousands of innocent
people are going to suffer for eternity because I said this was okay, and they
believed me. They followed in my footsteps. Isaac and Dr. Thompson
constantly remind me of my sin, throwing what I have done with him in my
face, especially those moments shared under the roof of my parents. I feel
so guilty for disappointing them, for defiling their home like that and
throwing away their trust.” More tears roll down his cheeks, most of the
time he doesn’t even realize they are there anymore. Crying is just the only
thing he can do, the only thing he has control over. He licks his dry cracked
lips to continue, the moisture in his mouth seemingly gone, along with his
sanity.
“Who am I? What have I done to them? To myself? Where do I go from

here? Do I even wanna get out of here? Here I am safe from temptation. I
am away from the Devil. Here I am free,” Louis says, shame filling his
body once more, making his body heat up. He uses blunt nails to tear at the
skin of his right arm, needing something, anything, just to feel. To know
that he is still human. That this is his reality. That he can still hurt. He
doesn’t really feel it though, it barely stings anymore. He hits his head a few
times, trying to get the memories of himself and Harry betraying the people
that truly loved him out of his head. He wants to hate Harry so bad, he begs
himself to everyday because if he could just hate him, if he could just blame
him, then maybe he wouldn’t hate and blame himself. He begins holding
himself, rocking back and forth, more tears falling. He needs to forget. He
needs to hate.
“You can make this all stop you know? This is in your hands, not ours. The
fact that you are still in here is your decision not ours.” Louis hears a voice
he has come to look forward to. He closes his eyes, letting it wash over him.
Anything other than his own voice and the damned silence feels like the sun
on his skin. He hasn’t felt the sun in so long though, it could be a terrible
metaphor. He basks in that voice though, even though he hated it at first.
Now he loves it because it means the loneliness has been chased away.
Louis turns to find Isaac at the door of his room, and Louis smiles at him,
genuinely happy to see him. To see anyone that isn’t himself. He watches as
the older man slowly walks into the room, shutting the door behind him
then he sits down on the bed, Louis’ body swaying with the movement. He
normally stands over Louis, so this is a nice change of pace. This must be
his daily meeting with the man, even though he isn’t sure it’s daily. The
days run together when he has no way of gauging time. Louis has come to
look forward to these because it means contact with another human.
“How?” Louis asks, his voice hoarse from his constant sobbing. Just
another thing about himself that he doesn’t recognize. It sounds weird and
foreign, just like his body appears. He sometimes feels like a ghost, looking
down on himself, watching his actions from outside of his body. He has no
control, so he may as well be a ghost. He feels more like a puppet, the
strings pulling at his raw skin until he does what he is told by the people
controlling him. He feels just as hollow as a puppet, and he is almost certain
his eyes are dead, his limbs lifeless without his master. Watching himself
from a distance was an odd experience at first and only served to confuse
him further because he just doesn't recognize any of it. His voice. His eyes.
His limbs. His heart. None of it. He has no idea who that person is.
“Through God. He can forgive you. Ask for his forgiveness, for he is a
merciful God. Beg for your salvation. He can grant it. You can go outside.
You would be deserving of the glory that is the world he created. You could
interact with the others here. They understand you. They understand your
struggles, just like God. You can find redemption in them. Talk to God. God
loves you, Louis.” Louis flinches at the use of his name because he isn’t
even sure if that is real anymore. He doesn't have a name. He doesn't have
an existence. He is just here. Sure he is breathing, but what does that count
for? He breathes, but he doesn’t live. He sees, but he doesn’t understand.
He hears, but he doesn't listen. He eats, but he doesn’t taste. He bleeds, but
he doesn’t hurt.
Can God really save him? Can he be forgiven after all that he’s done? Can
God fix him and rid him of this guilt? He doesn't hear Harry’s voice
answering. He doesn't see Harry’s mouth forming the words. He doesn't feel
Harry anywhere, not even in his heart. Maybe Harry isn’t the answer.
Maybe the answer has been in front of him all along, the answer to his
salvation and the end of his tortured existence. Louis begins to sob when
Isaac places a hand on his shoulder. It’s the first touch of kindness he has
felt in so long, he isn’t sure how to handle it. A kindness through Isaac,
from God, the one he betrayed. How could God forgive him when he spat
on his name and proclaimed that he didn’t exist? Is God really that
merciful? Does Louis deserve his mercy?
“Talk to Him, Louis. Talk to Him and beg him to heal you. He will listen.
He will forgive. You just have to ask. This can all end if you would just
swallow your pride and let go of your sin. Let go of Harry and allow God to
take his place in your heart. Let go of evil and allow love to win. Talk to
God,” Isaac pushes, his voice soft and reassuring as he squeezes Louis’
shoulder once more. Louis’ whole body is shaking, rocking back and forth,
trying to quiet his mind. He can’t focus on any one thought. He just wants
this to end. He wants the silence to end. He wants to let it all go, his empire
of shit and dirt, and give it all to God. Louis falls to his bony knees, the
hardness of the floor biting into his skin. At least he felt it. He bows his
head, touching his nose to the floor, feeling the need to get as close to the
ground as possible because he is not worthy of this. He needs to show how
small he truly is in the eyes of God. He has learned his lesson.
“God, I’m so sorry. I--I’m so sorry. Please, God forgive me. I know I have
sinned, and I now understand that this is my punishment for my sins. Please
remove Harry from my heart and replace him with your love. Your true
love, not the Devil’s lies. Please heal me from this disease. Please, I beg of
you, forgive me. I don’t want to go to Hell. I want to be accepted into your
Kingdom and see my family there with me. Please God, I need you. I am
weak, but you make me strong. I need you to lead me down a better path.
The path my father and mother want me to take. I am so sorry for betraying
you, for doubting you. I realize now that I needed to go through this. You
wanted to save me. You saw something in me worth saving, and I will never
understand what you saw, but please-- God please forgive me,” Louis cries,
a puddle of tears on the ground below his face that he could drown in.
Maybe he will.
“I’m sorry, sir. They…” Louis’ head snaps up to the sound of another voice.
He sees Adam burst through the door followed by a police officer. Louis
gets up quickly, crawling to the corner of the room, wanting to protect
himself from the onslaught of noise, the shocked gasp of his mom followed
by conversation between the police officer and Isaac that he can’t
understand. His senses are assaulted, not used to this amount of noise. He
wasn’t prepared. He wasn’t ready for more people to intrude. He puts his
hands over his ears and closes his eyes, overwhelmed. They aren't real.
He has lost it. He has lost his mind. He's hallucinating. His mom isn't there.
There aren't any cops. They are a figment of his fucked up imagination. So
he keeps his eyes shut tightly, willing them to go away just like he does
when the walls begin to close in around him. He pleads for them to leave
because this has to be the last shred of his sanity breaking, the already frail
rope finally snapping. He starts crying, begging his brain to go back to the
silence because he was slightly less crazy then. He wasn't creating images
of cops or of his mom. He wasn't building a rescue scenario because God
wouldn't want him to be rescued. He has just asked for forgiveness, so this
isn't real.
__________
“Why won’t he see me? He’s been home for two weeks, Ash. Two. Why
won’t he see me?” Harry asks, his frustration finally getting the better of
him as he paces Ashton’s bedroom. Ashton looks at him with wide eyes, as
if he wasn’t expecting the outburst. To be fair, he probably wasn’t. Harry
has been relatively patient and understanding since finding out that Jay was
able to rescue Louis from that horrible place. Mark was arrested and the
operation shut down since they had proof that Louis was kept there against
his will and over the age of eighteen. Of course, Reclaiming Rainbows tried
to say that they weren’t aware Louis was an adult, but Ashton told them
everything. Mark is in jail on charges of kidnapping, and Jay has filed for
divorce. Harry thought things would get better, but they haven't, not really.
“I don’t know. He won’t speak to me either,” Ashton responds, sitting the

second Harry Potter book down on the bed beside him. It is Harry’s copy.
He hasn’t looked at Louis’ since he left. He can’t even touch them. Harry,
Robin, Anne, and Ashton have been helping Jay with the girls since Mark
was arrested, but Louis wouldn’t even come out of his room, according to
her. Harry is worried about him. He wants to just barge into his room and
force him to speak to him, but he is afraid that would just make things
worse. He doesn’t know what they did to him. Ashton has only talked to his
new therapist and the police about it. He was very hesitant to speak to the
authorities, but it was the only way to save Louis and bring some kind of
justice down on that horrible camp.
“What happened to you all, Ash?” Harry asks, sitting down on Ashton’s
bed. He hasn’t ever asked that before. He figured Ashton would tell him if
and when he wanted to, but the uncertainty feels like an arrow in the heart.
He feels like he needs to know, or he may stop breathing. He can’t seem to
stop himself from coming up with a bunch of fucked up shit that they could
have done to him, and each thing seems more terrifying than the last,
making him feel sick to his stomach. Ashton at least seems to be doing
better. He doesn't flinch anymore when one of them touches him, and he has
only woken up screaming twice this week instead of the nightly occurrence
it was during his first week with them. Harry sat in his room on those nights
and read to him while he fell back to sleep. He reminds Harry a lot of
himself, and he could see why Louis felt protective over him.
“Harry, I’m sorry. I just-- I can’t tell you his story. It’s not mine to tell, and I
have no idea what happened to him after I got out. I gave you his notebook.
Have you read any of it?” Ashton’s eyes are wet, as if he is holding back
tears. Any time the subject of camp is brought up, he gets the same look in
his eyes. As if he is reliving some of it. They are wide, almost frantic,
seeing things that aren’t there. It’s the same look he has when he wakes up
screaming. Harry knows it well. He has had it on several occasions himself,
but that doesn't make it any easier to deal with. Everybody battles their
demons a different way. Harry shut himself away with a knife and whatever
liquor he could get his hands on.
“No. I can’t. I feel like I would be intruding on his privacy if I read it

without his permission,” Harry responds, shaking his head. The mangled
notebook has been under his pillow since Ashton gave it to him the same
night he came. It’s thick, as if some of the pages were ripped out then
stuffed back in, but Harry doesn't know for certain. He told Harry Louis had
written in it while he was at camp, also saying that it’s purpose was
originally for them to record all of their sexual activity. It felt tainted, but
Harry took it. Louis had apparently written Harry’s address on one of the
pages in the event that he and Ashton got separated. Ashton is lucky he did
because he ended up needing it. Harry just can’t bring himself to read it. He
knows he would be very upset if someone read his journal without his
permission, and he would never do that to Louis, not matter how curious he
is. Louis didn’t do it to him when he was presented, on more than one
occasion, with the opportunity to sneak a peek at Harry’s poetry.
“Yeah. I guess you are just going to have to wait until he is ready to talk,”
Ashton says, biting his lip in thought. He and Harry have gotten close over
the past two weeks. They have a lot in common. They like the same music.
They read the same books, and watch the same kind of movies. Ashton
almost feels like a brother to Harry even though they have only known each
other for a short period of time. He can tell that Ashton cares for Louis in
much the same way. Ashton has, at least, opened up to Harry about his two
week journey from the camp to Harry’s house. Harry doesn't know how the
younger man survived, but he is so happy that he did.
Harry doesn't usually get close to people quickly. He doesn't usually let
people in, but Ashton is different. Ashton felt like is only existing link to
Louis. Ashton knows what they went through there. They lived through it
together, and by taking care of Ashton, Harry almost feels as though, in
some very small way, he is taking care of Louis. Or maybe just continuing
the care Louis had already given him. Someone had to take over, and since
Louis refuses to see Ashton as well, then Harry decided to substitute
himself in Louis’ place. It probably isn’t the same to Ashton, though.
It’s something. He had to do something. Sitting at home, going to work, and

hanging out with Niall and Liam just wasn’t enough. He felt antsy, his skin
too tight and itchy for his body, as if he is going to jump out of it. He has
had to physically stop himself from just bursting into Louis’ room,
consequences be damned. He knows that is not the way to handle this. That
could just push Louis further away. Louis took his time to seep through the
cracks of Harry’s walls, and Harry will do the same. A water’s resilience
will eventually wear down even the largest rock. It will carve its own path
within, so Harry will just become water.
Harry feels an enormous amount of guilt for what Louis had gone through
there. He was sent there because of Harry afterall, and Harry can’t stop the
self loathing from settling deep into his bones, piercing his heart. He has
confessed this feeling to Ashton, but the younger boy, who seems to be
almost as logical as Harry, was quick to point out that it would have
happened eventually with or without Harry’s influences and therefore there
is no point in dwelling on the past. Harry can’t take it back for Louis, and
he should focus his efforts on moving forward. Harry knows that logically,
but fuck, it hurts. He hates that he is the reason Louis went through so many
weeks of hell. He wishes he could have taken his place there. Maybe Louis
wouldn’t be so broken then. Harry has been broken all along, so it wasn’t as
big of a deal for him to break once more. Harry knows how to be broken,
it’s being whole that he has struggled with.
“I’m just… I’m so worried about him. He helped me so much, and I want to
do the same for him. I want to help him through this and tell him that he is
beautiful and strong and amazing. I want to grab him and squeeze him until
he somehow becomes a whole person again, but I can’t. I can’t because he
doesn't want me to,” Harry admits, going back to the topic, dropping his
head to his hands. He told himself he wouldn’t cry again. He told himself he
would wait for Louis, as long as it took, but the radio silence is slowly
bleeding him dry, each moment leaving tiny lacerations on his skin so that
his death is slow and painful.
He gets updates from Jay almost daily, but it’s not enough. They are so
close to each other, but he can’t be around him. He has gotten one glimpse
of him since he has been back. He was over at their house to grab the twins
and take them to the park when he saw Louis walking from the office to his
room. He was thin, too thin, and looked like a ghost, just floating through
his existence. Haunting the hallways of his own home, but not interacting
with it. Harry didn’t see his eyes and was almost glad for that fact because
he doesn't know if he could handle it. Harry wanted to go up to him. He
wanted to touch him, but he couldn’t. Later Harry cried because he couldn’t
touch what he had seen. Even if he tried, he believes that his hand may
travel straight though Louis, who almost seems intangible now.
For that one moment, that one glimpse of Louis, his heart felt like it started
again, as if it was finally beating. He found his heartbeat, but he left almost
as soon as he came, like a ghost floating through the hallways. Incorporeal
and haunting. Harry thought he had imagined it, at first, because it looked
so real but it couldn't be. The person he saw in the hallway wasn’t the Louis
Harry knows. Harry had to shake his head, to concentrate on not crying in
front of the girls. They were confused enough, not being able to
comprehend why their brother refused to see them. They had to be assured
daily that they did nothing wrong, and that Louis was just going through a
lot.
“Me too, but he will come around. Jay said she has been trying to get
through to him. Maybe he will agree to therapy or something. Harry, he
cares about you so much. Promise you won’t give up on him,” Ashton says,
his hazel eyes adamant. Harry knows now that Louis didn’t leave him
because he wanted to. He knows he was forced by Mark, but it still almost
feels like he chose his faith over him. Especially now that he is back, and
there is nothing stopping them from being together. However, Louis didn’t
give up when Harry did everything in his power to push him away. He
didn’t give up when Harry was as an asshole to him or jumped to
conclusions. He kept fighting for him, for them.
“I promise. I won’t give up on him. I can’t. I love him too much. He has
me, and I will be damned if I give him up that easily. I will break down
every wall those fuckers put up. They will not win,” Harry responds, his
tone sure, despite the fact that he isn’t very confident in his abilities. He has
never done this before, but he is going to have to. He has to find whatever
confidence Louis has managed to instill in him over the past few months
and use it to get Louis back. He feels almost like they are back to square
one, but they don’t have to be. He just needs to remind Louis of what they
had and argue against whatever those horrible people filled his mind with.
“So, are you nervous about starting school on Monday?” Harry asks,
wanting to steer the conversation to a lighter topic. Ashton, despite the
circumstances, has been adjusting well to living at Harry’s house. Harry
gave him some of his older clothes, and they bought him some new stuff,
too. Luke has even came to visit a few times. Harry likes him, too. He’s
quiet at first, but once he got to know and trust Harry a bit better, he opened
up. It hurt Harry to see them together, but he tried to be happy for Ashton.
He is happy for him, but it still sucks seeing what he can’t have right now.
“Yeah. Thanks for introducing me to Willow and Tara. I feel a bit less
nervous since I will know someone at least,” Ashton replies, his smile not
reaching his eyes. Ashton pretended to be unbothered by the fact that his
parents just signed legal guardianship over to Anne and Robin without even
asking to meet them first. Robin spoke to her on the phone and papers were
signed a few days later. She said they wanted nothing to do with him. Harry
knows that it broke Ashton's heart, even though he hid it well. Harry
understands what it is like to feel as though you have disappointed your
parents, to be abandoned by them. He managed to get Ashton to talk about
it a little, but he can tell that the younger boy is hiding a lot of his hurt.
“You’re welcome. Will and T are awesome. You can invite Luke over on
the weekends or go see him,” Harry tells him, then they begin talking about
what Ashton can expect from his new school. When Harry had found out
that Ashton went to school with Logan in the past, Harry managed to keep
from locking himself in his room with a knife. He knew he was making
progress in the right direction then. He hasn’t forgiven Logan. He doesn’t
know if he ever will because Logan simply doesn’t deserve his forgiveness,
but he no longer blames himself for what happened. He no longer has
nightmares. His panic attacks are few and far between. He is almost to the
point he was at before Louis left, so that has to count for something right?
The sun is still in the sky, even if it is hidden behind the clouds.
____________
Louis feels as though he is living his life in a fog, his whole world is
shrouded in a heavy substance that Louis can’t seem to find his way
through. Mostly, it’s the confusion that is driving him mad. He has been out
of that place for a month now, and he still can’t decide if it’s a good thing or
a bad thing. They were trying to help him. They were helping him, but they
also tortured him. They starved him, and beat him, and abused his body,
both mentally and physically, but they did what was necessary to save his
soul. Did the ends justify the means? Louis still has urges. Every single day
he wants to go to Harry, but he stops himself. He can’t. He has been through
too much to throw it all away for a moment of weakness. For a moment of
sin.
He doesn't know if he feels anything anymore, other than confusion. He is

so fucking confused, he cries about it. His head is filled with so many
questions, not even hitting it repeatedly seems to straighten out his
thoughts, or even drive them out into the open. Louis should know, he has
tried. It just gives him a headache, but at least it makes him feel something.
Something other than the numbness that has settled into every pore of his
body, every surface of his world, like some ink spilled on a perfect white
page. He is just so confused. If God wanted him to be there in that camp, if
he wanted him to break, then why did his mom show up right when he
began giving his life back to God? If God wanted him to respect his parents,
then why was Mark arrested for kidnapping him? If God was angry at him
over his urges for Harry, then why did he keep having them, no matter how
many times he begged for him to take them away? Is he weak?
He barely remembers the moments of his ‘rescue’. He thought for sure he

was hallucinating. That the Devil had come into his brain and planted
images of his sinful dreams to tempt him. His mom had to pry his hands
away from his ears before he would even look at her. Even then, he didn’t
believe she was real. He remembers crying and telling her to leave. He
remembers the police officers placing Isaac in handcuffs, even though
Louis told them that he was helping him. After speaking with his mom
though, he decided to press charges. They had enough from Ashton to build
a case, but he gave his own statement. He still doesn't know if he should
have. He doesn’t think that is something God would have wanted him to do.
They were trying to help him. They were working through God, for God, so
why did that get them arrested?
“Louis, can I come in?” Louis’ head snaps up at the sound of his mom’s
voice. She is in the doorway, not having crossed the threshold into his
room, yet. She has been tiptoeing around him since he got home. He doesn't
blame her at all. He yells at her if she tries to get him to do anything. He
refuses to see Harry or anyone from his old life. It’s better that way. It
removes the temptation. Dr. Thompson said that if he removed all
temptation, it would be easier to resist, so that is what Louis is doing. He
just has to keep reminding himself that Harry is his Apple. Harry is his
Judas. Harry is the Devil and all things wrong with him. Harry means pain.
“Yeah,” Louis responds, his voice sounding hollow. He is hollow. He

doesn't know who he is. He is just a shell of who he once was and is waiting
for God to fill him up again. To give him some sort of purpose. He has
asked him a thousand times, but he hasn’t answered yet. Louis wonders if
this is just the life God wants him to live, or if God isn’t real. He tries to
stay away from thoughts like the latter, simply because those are exactly the
kind of thoughts that landed him in restorative therapy. That made him this
way to begin with. He’s learned his lesson. Well, he pretends he has. He is
lying to himself because he still has dreams about Harry. His heart still
beats for Harry, as if it wants to run away and find Harry’s so that it can be
happy again. He won’t let it, though. He keeps the damn thing locked in his
chest where it can never get him in trouble with God again.
“Why don’t you come down for dinner? The girls would love to see you.
They miss you,” Jay suggests, walking the rest of the way into the room and
sitting down on his bed. She is smiling, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes.
He wonders if she can smile anymore. He knows he can’t. He doesn't even
know if he is deserving of happiness. He thought that once he got out of
there, everything would be easier. It’s not. Louis has completely lost his
sense of self, and he still has an enormous amount of guilt. Now, piled on
top of that guilt is more guilt surrounding the fact that so many people are
in jail over him, including Mark. They were just trying to help him. Were
they deserving of this? If God didn’t think so, then he would find them not
guilty, right? Or is it up to Louis to do it? Louis can feel a tear stream down
his cheek from his confusion. He bows his head, tapping it a few times with
a loose fist. He only stops when he feels a warm hand on his wrist.
“No. I can’t. I told you that. I don’t want to be around them. I am toxic to
them. I will pay for what I have done, not them. They can’t. I’m like a
cancer on this family, Mom. I can’t be around them! They will think that it’s
okay to be like me! It’s not. It’s not okay. I’m being punished, and they
shouldn’t be punished for me!” Louis cries, hearing the words of Adam and
the others in his head as he says them. He still isn’t completely sure he
believes them, but he can’t take that chance. He can’t be around them, as
much as he misses them. They know he is home, obviously. They have tried
to come into his room, but he just yells until they leave then he tells himself
it’s for the best. It is, isn’t it? He is doing what’s best for them. He shouldn’t
be around them. He could infect them with his disease.
“Okay, honey. Calm down. I won’t make you,” Jay assures him, her voice
soft and placating, a direct contrast to the harshness in Louis’ tone and his
laboured breaths. She looks nervous, so he knows there is something else
she wants to say. He waits. He isn’t going to talk. He won’t be the first to
talk, and even when she does, he may not contribute to the discussion.
Being around her is hard. She told him why she did what she did, and he
understood, however he still feels betrayed. She had just stood there and
watched him being drug from the house. Then again, it may have been for
the best. It may have saved his soul. There it is again. The confusion. The
contradiction. The fucking questions. “Will you please go to see a
therapist?”
“No.” Louis shakes his head. When she looks like she is about to protest, he
continues, cutting her off, “I don’t need to talk to a therapist. I need to talk
to God. A therapist can’t help me, only God can, so I am going to keep
praying. I am going to keep begging him to heal me. I am going to keep
asking his forgiveness and pray, with all of my heart, that he may show
mercy on me and take away my feelings and urges. Only then will I be
clean.”
“Louis, you’re perfect the way you are. There is nothing wrong with you,
and I hope you will someday see that. You won’t tell me what they did to
you, but whatever it was, they were wrong. Louis, you aren’t unclean. You
aren’t sick. You are beautiful and perfect. You don’t have a disease. You
love…”
“Shut up!” Louis screams stopping her before she can say that he loves a
man. That he loves Harry. He should have never said that to her. He should
have kept it in his head, where it couldn’t be heard by anyone other than
him and God. Putting it out into the open seemed to only make it worse. He
doesn't even know if he loves him. Every time he thinks he does, he
remembers that it’s wrong. He remembers the therapy. The pain he has
come to associate with Harry, so he grips on to that like a lifeline, using it
as fuel to stay strong and away from temptation.
“Okay. Okay. I’m sorry. I just-- well, will you at least consider going to
college? It’s supposed to start next week, and it’s not too late. Maybe you
could go closer to home. You need to get out of this room, love. You need
to start rebuilding yourself. You are going to go crazy just sitting here all
the time. Go to Morgan University. It’s smaller and right down the road.
You could drive there. Liam is going there, so you will know someone. It’s
not too late to get you enrolled in courses. I spoke with the admissions
office this morning. Please. I’m begging you. Go for yourself and for me.
Don’t let this completely ruin everything you’ve worked so hard for.” She’s
crying after her small speech.
“Okay. Fine. I’ll go,” Louis finds himself agreeing. He knows she’s right.
He knows he can’t stay in this room forever. He can’t keep wallowing in
self doubt and self pity. Maybe, if he goes to college, he can find himself
again. Harry is going to Stonewall University, so Louis won’t have to worry
about seeing him. Liam is okay. Liam at least believes in God, and he
doesn't have any attraction to him. He isn’t sure about Niall, but he is better
than Harry. Niall will just remind Louis of Harry, but that may be good for
him. It may help him build up resistance to his urges. Maybe he can find
some other like minded people there, who know how he feels, who know
what it’s like to have these unholy urges, and he won’t feel so alone
anymore.
“That’s great, love. But only if you are sure?”
“Yes. I’m sure.” He isn’t really, but it can’t be any worse than what he is
doing now.
“Okay. I’ll call the school and have them register you for courses. Mark’s
GI bill will still pay for everything. I’ve already spoken to the military.
They don’t see the point in punishing our children for his mistakes.” Louis
flinches when he hears Mark’s name. Mark is another topic that makes
Louis’ brain muddled, one contradiction after another rushing through his
mind. He knows he shouldn’t hate Mark like he does. Mark loved him. He
is his dad. He was trying to help him, even if it required some kind of force.
Louis is the reason why Mark is currently in jail, but he still hates him. He
hates him for taking him to that place and for calling Harry those horrible
names. Every time he has this hateful thought though, he immediately starts
feeling guilty about it again. It’s one big fucked up vicious circle that leaves
Louis feeling disoriented.
“One more thing, honey. After Mark took you, I grabbed the note that Harry
gave you. I taped it back together, and I really think you should read it,” she
says, handing him a mangled piece of paper, that looks shiny from all of the
tape. He takes it from her but quickly closes his eyes before he can read it,
folding it up so that it is out of sight. Hiding the temptation from himself.
At one point, he would have begged to read it. He did. He fell to the floor
after Mark ripped it up because it felt as though his soul had torn along with
it. Now he can’t even look at it. It makes him sick. He still wants to read it,
and he hates himself for it. He lays it on the bedside table, trying to resist
the temptation of the words. Trying to run from the pain and suffering they
bring.
He doesn't want what he thinks it says to be solidified in his mind. It’s

easier if he pretends Harry never allowed himself to love him. Things are
much simpler if he tells himself that Harry didn’t love him because he
couldn’t entrust his heart to another person, especially a person that chose
faith over him. Harry most likely knows that he didn’t, now. That it wasn’t
Louis’ choice. His mom told him that Ashton is living with Harry. He
doesn’t know what Ashton has told the other boy, and he doesn't care. He
should regret helping Ashton escape because they were trying to help him,
too. Right? He should be mad at himself because he supposedly cared for
him but helped him escape from people that were trying to help him. He
doesn't though. He wouldn’t wish what happened to him on his worst
enemy. Another contradiction.
“Just keep it with you in case you change your mind.” His mom slowly gets
up, patting him on the leg. She grabs the folded up letter and places it in
Louis’ wallet which is laying beside it on the table. Louis watches her do it,
deciding then that he will never remove it. He will never touch it unless he
does so by accident while retrieving money. It can lay in there, forgotten,
like everything else in his life that has to do with Harry. He can’t think
about him. He can’t allow himself to even dream about him because it is all
too painful. All too tempting. He is trying to be good. He is trying to set an
example for his sisters. He can’t do that and be around Harry. He just can't.
He watches his mom leave the room then shut the door behind her. He is
alone with his thoughts once more. Alone with nothing but his mind and
God, or maybe he’s just simply alone.
Chapter End Notes
See! A bit more hopeful!
Drown
Chapter Summary
Harry and Louis begin their first day of college.

Chapter Notes
Okay... We are in a bit of an upswing.

Who will fix me now?
Dive in when I'm down?
Save me from myself
Don't let me drown
Who will make me fight?
Drag me out alive?
Save me from myself
Don't let me drown- Bring me the Horizon
Harry looks in the mirror, running his fingers through his curls. They are
getting much longer, having not cut them at all over the summer. They have
been in his face more often than not though, so he has been using head
scarves to hold them back out of his eyes. At first he wasn’t sure how he
felt about the scarves, but now he kind of likes them. He is wearing one
today. A red, white and blue one made to look like the American flag
because ‘Merica, as he joked to Ashton when he bought it last week. He has
paired it with a black henley, pushing the sleeves up to his elbows, and a
pair of black skinny jeans. His nails are painted black like always, and he
decided to go with black eyeliner for his first day. He feels more confident
about being himself, even if it is only the first day. Harry has never gone to
college, obviously, but he knows that campuses are generally more
accepting of differences, some even embracing them. They have a
LGBTQ+ club that Harry briefly considered joining, however that would
have required an ounce of sociability, and Harry just doesn't think he has it
in him.
“Harry. You better get going love, or you’re gonna be late!” Anne yells
from downstairs. He takes a deep breath, attempting to tamp down the
nervousness that has begun to bubble in his gut. He never thought he could
do this without Louis. Here he is though, having to go through something
this new and scary without his best friend. Jay said she talked to him last
week and thought she made a breakthrough, but she didn’t say how. Harry
has decided that if Louis doesn't see him in the upcoming days, then he will
have to sneak up to his room. His patience is running thin. He has to see
him. He just needs to talk to him. He thinks that maybe if Louis is forced to
see him, it will help. Being so close, yet so far away, from him makes Harry
sick. He feels like his heart is pulling towards Louis, but it can’t reach him.
He feels incomplete.
With one final look in the mirror, Harry leaves his room, heading down the
hallway. He shoves his hands in his pockets to stop them from shaking as he
walks toward the kitchen. It’s still pretty early, but at least he doesn’t have
to get up at the ass crack of dawn anymore to go to school. He almost
choked when his new advisor said that his earliest class on Mondays,
Wednesdays and Fridays is 10am, however, he wasn’t so lucky with
Tuesdays and Thursdays, having English 101 at 8 am. His first course today
is Psychology, which he is kind of excited about. He is dreading Calculus,
even though he has already taken Pre-Calculus as a part of his high school
curriculum. His advisor assured him that he would be fine in the course
given his exceptionally high test scores. He only wished he could have
talked to Louis to help ease his mind.
“There you are!” Robin exclaims as soon as Harry steps foot into the
kitchen. Harry returns his smile, going to the counter to grab a banana for
breakfast. Even though they have plenty of food now, he still sometimes
prefers to just have a bit of fruit for breakfast, especially when he is
nervous. He doesn't feel like eating but knows he needs to force something
down anyway. So with the banana in his hand, he hops up on the counter,
looking at the table where his mom and Robin are sitting. They both
decided to take the day off work, wanting to support Harry on his first day
of school as if it was his first day of kindergarten. Harry rolled his eyes at
the idea initially, but he ultimately came to the conclusion that they just
wanted the day to themselves and were using Harry as an excuse. He can’t
blame them. He has been home most of the summer, his mental state not
really stable enough to be left alone. Since Ashton came, they have had
even less time alone. Today though, they will be child free for the first time
in months.
“Ashton says ‘good luck’,” Anne tells him, taking a sip of her coffee. She’s
probably on her second cup. They usually wake up early to see Ashton off
before they both have to leave for work, Anne sometimes making him
something to eat. At first, Harry was a bit jealous because never got that
treatment from her during high school, but then he remembers he is trying
to let go of the past. What’s done is done, and Ashton shouldn’t suffer
because of it. Neither should Harry anymore, so he pushed down that
feeling and found happiness over it. Harry carefully peels the banana from
the bottom, and takes a bite, chewing and swallowing before he responds.
“Yeah. He texted me.” Ashton seems to be adjusting well to his new school.
He has made some friends, but mostly just sticks to Willow and Tara. This
is his third week, and there hasn’t been a fight or any type of trouble
reported. He seems to be doing well in his classes, too, bringing home
essays that he gets full credit on. He had tried to hide it from them at first,
but Harry saw one sticking out of his backpack and insisted on hanging it
on the fridge for all to see. Ashton blushed but allowed it, giggling when
Harry used his favorite magnet that says ‘God Hates Facts’ in big bold
letters. Robin had bought it for him, and Harry thought it was hilarious.
“Do you want some coffee before you leave?” Anne asks, standing up and
taking her cup to the sink. Harry watches her go. It strikes him as odd. How
different this scenario is compared to his first day of school last year. How
far they have come as a family. How far he has come as a person and
accepting himself. He still has days where he hates himself and everything
feels hopeless. He still has issues sleeping and nightmares, mostly about
Louis. He still has moments of weakness where he wants nothing more than
a bottle of Jack and knife, but he is doing better. He even got a new tattoo to
symbolize that. He still wears his bracelets, but he thinks he may get to a
place in his life one day where he can take them off, own his scars. Like
Louis told him to do.
At the thought of Louis, a pang of sadness shoots through his chest. It feels
wrong going to college without him. It also felt wrong spending the summer
without him. He hasn’t seen him in three months. At one point, he didn’t
think he could go a week without him, and it’s been three months. Harry
isn’t sure if that’s a bad thing or a good thing. He has realized that he can
live without Louis if he has to, he just doesn't want to. Doesn’t see why he
should have to, and he needs to break down whatever barrier is keeping
Louis from him. He just needs to talk to him. Harry has broken down
Louis’ faith in a higher being before. At least he thinks he has, and he
certainly should be able to do it again.
“Nah. Me and Ni are gonna stop at Starbucks. Says we need to be proper

college students. I don’t even think he knows what that means. Where he
heard the term ‘proper’ is beyond me, and I’m not sure why Starbucks
makes us proper. He’s paying, so it’s whatever,” Harry responds with a
shrug, finishing his banana and kicking his feet so they knock against the
bottom cabinets. He tosses the peel into the trash, somehow making it.
Louis would have cheered, and knowing that just makes Harry feel hollow.
“Tell him he needs to stop watching Doctor Who,” Robin jokes, smiling at
Harry. Harry laughs because Niall has been obsessed with that show all
summer, discovering the seasons on Hulu. He had trouble understanding
their accents at first, but quickly became addicted. Harry has watched a few
episodes with him and doesn’t dislike it. He thinks that Niall is just in love
with River Song, which is fine by Harry because he likes to look at Matt
Smith, and their storylines in the show overlap. However, since Niall’s
obsession began, he started using British terminology which is hilarious
paired with his southern accent.
“You will have to pry that show from his cold dead hands,” Anne laughs,
patting Harry on the leg. Harry places both hands on the counter pushing
himself off until his feet land on the floor. He nods in response to his mom,
smiling at her as well. It’s odd how normal everything is, and even stranger
that this is his new normal. If someone had told him last year that he and his
mom would be able to stand to be in the same room with each other, let
alone be carrying on a conversation like any other normal family, he
probably would have called them a liar. He also wouldn’t have believed that
he would fall in love with a boy. Give his heart to the boy, and now need to
find the confidence to fight for him. A lot has changed over the past year,
and Harry doesn’t regret a single thing. It has been a roller coaster, and he’s
definitely had his lowest point during that time, however, he is so thankful
to his mom for being there to talk him off the edge. He’s happy that he is in
a better place because right now Louis needs him. Louis may not know that
yet however he does, and Harry won’t let him down.
“I better get going. I don’t wanna be late for my first class,” Harry says,
looking down at his phone seeing a text from Niall asking where he is. They
are going to take turns driving to campus. Harry is driving today, and
tomorrow, Niall is driving. They don’t have all the same classes, but similar
enough schedules to where it will work. He feels better that at least Niall
and Liam are with him. Liam isn’t carpooling with them because he has to
go to football practice, but they have two classes with him as well.
“I’m sure you won’t be the only one that is late, but it probably won’t be the
best impression on your first day,” Robin points out with a smile. They both
wish him good luck, and Harry nods in response, thanking them as he grabs
his keys and heads out the door. He sends Niall a quick text, saying that he
is on his way. The drive to Niall’s house is quick, and before Harry knows
it, he is being greeted by a wide braceless smile. Niall got his braces
removed last week and hasn’t stopped smiling since. The braces never
stopped him to begin with, but he is definitely more confident. Harry loves
that for him. Loves seeing his shiny, straight teeth. Harry returns his
greeting, the smile probably not reaching his eyes.
“So how’s Ashton?” Niall asks once Harry backs out of the driveway,
heading in the direction of the interstate. He can still hear Louis’ raspy
voice in his head, giving him driving instructions. Harry shakes it, trying to
dislodge the memory because it still hurts too much. Everything he does
reminds him of Louis, and some days are easier than others. Some days he
wants to hang on to it, but other days he hates it. He really needs to come up
with a plan to force Louis to see him. Maybe Jay will help him. She has
been adamant not to push him too hard, and Harry understands that. At the
same time, though, he also knows sometimes people need a good push. He
definitely needed one.
“He’s good I think. He still won’t like, tell me what happened with him and
Louis at the camp. I know why he doesn't want to. The gods know I kept
my secret for years and still only a few people know. I understand how hard
it is to trust people, so I get it. He had Luke over last weekend. He’s young,
just sixteen, but he is a sweet guy. You’d like him. He’s quiet, but really
funny once he opens up. We should all try to hang out like, next weekend or
something. Maybe invite Will and T,” Harry answers, checking his mirrors
as he merges onto the highway, just like Louis taught him.
“That’s great, and I’d love to. I’m sure Liam would be tickled pink to hang
out too,” Niall says, but Harry can tell there is something he wants to add.
He looks hesitant, which tells Harry that it is about Louis. Everyone has
been avoiding talking to Harry about Louis except Ashton, but that is
mostly because Ashton isn’t aware of Harry’s history. Niall is, and Liam
knows something happened the night of graduation. He isn’t sure how much
Liam knows, and Harry finds that he doesn’t care if Liam knows
everything. He has come to trust Liam, and he definitely counts him among
his friends after everything they have all been through. “What do you think
happened to Lou? Like in the camp?”
Harry sighs, his eyes prickling with tears as soon as the question falls from
Niall’s lips. He knew it was coming, but it still hurts him to even think
about it. His body physically hurts for Louis, knowing that he went through
something so horrible, even though he doesn’t have all the details. He feels
sick even thinking about it, but it only solidifies his need to help Louis
through it. He swallows, taking a deep breath as he answers, “I don’t know,
Ni. I know it’s bad though, so of course my brain is coming up with all
kinds of horrible scenarios.”
“How do you know it was bad?” Niall questions, blue eyes studying Harry’s
face, probably gauging his reaction. Harry grips the steering wheel, his
knuckles white with tension. He keeps his eyes trained on the road, willing
himself not to cry or think about what could have happened to Louis. He
knows he only tortured himself when he looked up information about those
types of places, but his curiosity got the better of him. Not all of them are
abusive, but most are, especially the ones run by so called ‘Religious
Leaders’. It shocked him that some are even staffed with actual clinical
psychologists. Goes to show that education isn’t everything.
“I just do. I can feel it. I know that sounds stupid, but I just know it was
bad. Ashton refuses to talk about it with me, he still wakes up in the middle
of the night, Niall. Crying and screaming for some unknown person to stop.
He sometimes mumbles that he didn’t mean it, and I have no idea what he is
referring to. Whatever they did to him, it fucked him up. Louis was there
for two more weeks after that. Two weeks of punishment for trying to
escape. Two weeks of shit that Ashton doesn't even know about. Ash is in
therapy now, but Jay said Louis refuses to go. It was bad,” Harry tells him,
a tear trailing down his cheek. He is normally good at covering his
emotions, but when it comes to Louis, he finds it difficult. He doesn't give a
fuck about the shit he has gone through or continues to go through, but the
idea that Louis is hurting makes Harry sick. He never wanted to see him
hurt, and Harry feels like it is at least partially his fault that Louis was even
there to begin with.
“Fuck,” Niall responds, and Harry seconds that. Fuck indeed. After that,
Niall changes the subject, sensing Harry’s distress. They talk about their
classes and majors. Niall is still undecided because he doesn’t really know
what he wants to do. Harry is sure he will find something, though. Niall has
always been a bit of a gypsy soul, good at everything, but never really
applying himself to any one thing. Harry could see him being a nurse or
something. Someone that works with people and helps them, but he is
giving Niall time to find himself. That is a part of the whole college
experience, Harry has been told.
They continue chatting as Harry takes the exit, heading to Starbucks first.
They go through the drive thru, which isn’t much quicker, but at least they
didn’t have to leave the vehicle. Harry hands Niall his frappe and looks at
the time, wincing because they are definitely going to be late for their first
class. Harry quickly finds a parking space, and with their coffee in hand,
they make their way to their destination. They came to the campus over the
weekend to find the rooms their classes were located in, Harry needing to
feel prepared to alleviate his anxiety over the situation. Niall and Liam were
cool about it, seeing the advantage of knowing where they needed to go.
“I can’t believe we’re late,” Harry mummers to Niall as they walk through
the door of their classroom. The teacher doesn’t seem to have started the
lecture yet, thankfully. He glances around the room, looking for Liam and
freezes when he finds Liam sat beside a person Harry wasn’t sure he would
ever see again. He almost collapses to the floor, wanting to sob with relief.
He thinks he may be hallucinating or perhaps he and Niall got into a car
accident, and he is dead, somehow finding his way into heaven. This is real,
though. Heaven isn’t. Harry takes a deep breath, bringing a shaking hand to
scrub at his face, trying to keep a steady hold on his coffee in the process.
All he needs on his first day is to drop his coffee all over the lecture hall
and make a fool of himself, but holy shit!
It’s Louis. Louis is sitting beside Liam. Harry had hoped that the person he
saw in the hallway at Jay’s was just a figment of his overworked
imagination, but it wasn’t. Louis looks thin, almost frail, and his blue eyes
are empty, with none of their normal sparkle or mirth. Harry’s breath leaves
him because this is Louis, but it doesn’t look like him. He isn’t smiling. He
isn’t being loud or vibrant. He isn’t making any quips about Liam's stupid
fucking flat billed hat. He is just sitting there, staring ahead. He is still the
most beautiful creature that Harry has ever laid eyes on. He still has all of
the features Harry loves, and he knows that deep down inside, it is still
Louis. His Louis. His light is just so dim, and Harry can’t help but worry
that it will never shine again. Harry definitely wants to cry. They took his
fucking light. How could they? How could they dim something so fucking
bright, Harry used it as his godsdamned sun?
Louis hasn’t seen him yet, and Harry isn’t sure if that is bad or good. Liam
is trying to communicate something to them with his eyes, but Harry
doesn’t know what. Harry forces his feet to move when he feels Niall nudge
his shoulder breaking him out of his trance, glancing over to Louis. Harry
swallows, feeling somewhat numb. He is just having trouble processing
this. It’s a total shock. He hasn’t seen Louis in so fucking long, he almost
forgot the little details about him. He still feels like he isn’t seeing him
though; he is just so different. Almost like the shell of the person Harry
remembers. Harry makes a promise to himself, right then and there, that he
will help Louis find his light. Louis was Harry’s light, and Harry will see
him shine again even if he has to use his own fucking heart as a damaged
wick. It is then that Louis’ blue eyes find him, going wide and almost...
scared. Harry is definitely going to cry.
___________
Louis groans when his alarm goes off for the third time. He grabs his phone,
silencing it. He wants nothing more than to roll over and go back to sleep,
or at the very least, try to sleep. He didn’t sleep very much last night. Well,
he hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in what feels like forever. He still has
horrible dreams about the camp that causes him to wake up screaming and
fighting restraints that aren’t there, which brings back the guilt of fighting
against them when they were just trying to help him. He usually ends up
crying, begging God to take away his confusion. He never does because he
is still punishing Louis it seems, and Louis falls into a fitful sleep again,
somewhere around dawn, only for the occurrence to be repeated in the same
order. It’s a vicious, endless cycle.
Louis scrubs at his face in a weak attempt to rub the confusion and
exhaustion away. It doesn’t work. It never works. Nothing works. Not
crying. Not sleeping. Not even praying. He glances at his clock, groaning at
the time. He needs to actually drag his ass out of bed if he is going to do
this. He isn’t sure he wants to, not really, but his mom is right. He can’t
keep wallowing in his own misery, never seeing the light of day again. It’s
funny, in some sick way, that he went from forced isolation to self imposed
isolation. He can’t keep drowning the chaos of his mind, the waves now so
turbulent, he is beginning to feel not only lost, but seasick. Aren't sailors
supposed to have a compass for their ship or something? Louis needs one
because he has no idea where he is most days, but he thinks he is heading
south.
He hasn’t worn actual clothes in months, so, with just the sunlight filtering
through the room, he makes his way to his closet. He doesn’t even bother
looking at his choices, just reaches in and grabs the first thing his fingers
grasp. He pulls a white shirt with small black designs out of the closet and
pairs it with some basic jeans. He stumbles into the bathroom, squinting
when he flips the overhead light on, illuminating the space in a harsh glow,
making pain shoot behind his eyes. He avoids looking in the mirror as he
brushes his teeth, but makes the mistake of finding his reflection after he
rinses his mouth.
He doesn't think he has actually seen his own reflection since the exercise at
camp where he had to tell it that he was, in fact, straight. He has avoided it
all costs, not wanting to put a face to the person he is because he doesn’t
really know himself anymore. He looks just as disjointed as his thoughts
are. The face in the mirror has his features staring back at him, but he
doesn’t recognize them. It’s like a stranger with his facial characteristics,
but missing a few key details. The light in his eyes, along with the crinkles
in the corners of them from his smile, are gone now. All of that has been
replaced by eyes that are red rimmed and hollow, a black ring around them
from lack of sleep. His skin is pale and gaunt looking, lacking any of the
natural sunkissed hue that he would normally have in the summer from
hours of playing outside with his sisters or swimming. On his cheeks is
three day old scruff he was always so meticulous about shaving. He scrubs
it with his hand, wincing at the noise that almost sounds too loud for his
ears. He looks away, not being able to take another second of the scrutiny.
He quickly leaves the bathroom, finding a gray beanie to pull over his
greasy hair leaving some of it out to cover his empty eyes. He makes his
way over to his bedside stand, grabbing his newly replaced phone and
wallet which feels heavy with the weight of the letter he knows is inside. He
hasn’t touched it since his mom put it in there last week. Hasn’t even
looked at the damn thing, afraid that if he even so much as tries to move it,
he will take a peek at its contents which is something he simply cannot
allow himself to do. His mom insisted that he get a new phone, even though
he didn’t want it. The number is different because it was the only way he
would agree to the purchase. He doesn’t want anyone from his old life
contacting him, except maybe Liam.
He doesn’t know how he feels about the fact that he could possibly see
Liam or Niall today. The school is fairly small, so it wouldn’t be a surprise
for them to be in one or two of the same classes, even though Liam’s
chosen major is Athletic Training because he wants to become a physical
therapist. Louis was placed in pre-med courses because he had intended to
become a doctor before all of this happened. He told his mom and his new
advisor during a phone call, that he didn’t give a fuck what they registered
him for, but his mom insisted that he needed to try to stick with what was as
normal as possible. Therefore Louis was enrolled in Psychology, English,
Chemistry, and Biology. He figured it would be challenging enough to
throw himself into, and possibly get lost in the work. Distractions are
important, it seems.
He makes his way down stairs, thankful that his sisters have already left for
school. He finds a note on the refrigerator from his mom saying ‘Good luck.
I love you <3’. She already told him that she would have to work on his
first day of classes, being new to the position as an administrative assistant
at a law firm, she couldn’t get the day off. The hours are great for the girls
though, and she seems happier making her own money, not depending so
much on the money she gets from government support. Louis is secretly
thankful that she wouldn’t be there to see him off, not wanting to see her
sympathetic smile or tearful frown. He can’t take it. He feels like he is
disappointing her, but he doesn’t know why. He is trying to be a good
person and a good Christian. What else could she want?
She is honestly happier than she’s been in years, not having the weight of
Mark and his harsh rules and criticism crushing her. Louis wants to be
happy for her, but he can’t. She went against the Bible by divorcing Mark,
and he cannot condone that. She did it because of Louis, and now Louis
blames himself for the fact that his mom is going to Hell because of him.
She is going to Hell for divorcing Mark over Louis. Louis also somewhat
blames Harry because Harry is the reason Louis was sent to camp to begin
with. He knows Harry didn’t force him to do any of those things; he didn’t
force him to fall in love. Now, however, Louis’ mom is going to Hell
because of his mistakes.
He knows Mark never treated her the way she deserved to be treated. She
lived in fear of Mark, and he wanted nothing more than to ‘keep her in her
place’. He did all of this because of the Bible. No one deserves to be treated
like that, but there are no expectations in the Bible. There are no ‘divorce is
a sin unless the following occurs’ clauses within its pages. Louis shakes his
head, pushing the questions about the morals of the Bible out of his mind,
hopefully once and for all. He tries not to recall the conversations he had
with Harry about that topic. Tries not to question it. He just needs to
believe, even though he doesn’t actually believe that women are less than
anyone or anything.
He doesn’t bother with breakfast, his stomach churning at the mere thought
of food. He just wants to go to his classes and come back home to crawl
into bed. Maybe not go to sleep, but things are less confusing in his bed. He
takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, then leaves the house
for the first time in over a month. The August sun is brighter than Louis
remembers, the humidity licking at his skin despite the fact that it is only
mid morning. He squints against the light, the pain behind his eyes
intensifying with the brightness of it. His senses feel overwhelmed,
confused by the onslaught of sights and sounds that he isn’t accustomed to
anymore.
He almost turns around and runs back in the house, where the noises don’t
make him feel like they are muffling his internal screams, but he takes
another deep breath, forcing his feet to move to his car. He gets in quickly,
shutting the door firmly, and closes his eyes when the silence returns to him
like an old friend. He places his head on the steering wheel, gripping it with
shaking hands and counts to ten, telling himself that he needs to do this. He
needs to at least try to feel normal again, and this is the first step. Once he
has calmed down a bit, he turns the ignition. He hasn’t driven in so long, he
fears that he has forgotten how, but it seems like driving is a lot like riding a
bike. You never really forget once you learn.
He doesn't turn on the radio, just allows the silence that he is comfortable
with to take over, his mind racing with what to expect, anxiety thrumming
through his system. The closer he gets to the school, the more he feels as
though he is going to jump out of his fucking skin. He needs something.
Something to take the stress away. Something to calm his nerves and fill
him up, at least a little bit. He sees a gas station off of the next exit and
makes a beeline for it, going in and returning with a pack of cigarettes and a
lighter. He doesn't know why he suddenly wanted them, although he has
heard they are a great way to relieve stress, and he is willing to try just
about anything at this point.
When he gets back into the car, he opens the pack with shaking fingers,
thanking God that the person behind the counter didn’t want to talk
anymore than Louis did. He chose a green pack because he didn’t know
what the fuck to go with, and he likes green. He holds it between his
fingers, looking at it as though the object may hold the answers to all of his
questions, a solution to all of his problems. It doesn't, but he sticks the filter
between his lips and lights it up. The first drag burns his throat but not as
much as the first time he smoked weed with Harry. He pushes that memory
out his mind’s window, hoping it will splatter on the pavement below, as he
takes another drag. This time it is much smoother, and he only coughs
twice. He silently promises himself that he won’t make a habit of this. He
just needs it to take the edge off.
The smoke has a menthol taste to it, that opens his sinuses. He feels better
for some reason, just having something to do, so he keeps the cigarette
between two fingers as he maneuvers the vehicle out of the parking lot. He
no longer feels like he is going to jump out of his skin or throw up the only
thing currently occupying his stomach. The smoke continues to fill his
lungs on the way to campus doing nothing for the void in his heart. He
quickly finds a parking spot, surprised to see that he is actually early for
class. He has no idea where he is going, but the campus is small. He has a
map and the buildings are labeled, so he has no issues finding the correct
classroom for Psychology 101, newly acquired pack of cigarettes firmly in
his pocket and single notebook in his hand.
He tries to breathe through the anxiety climbing into his throat as he walks
into the classroom. It seats about 50 people, so much bigger than anything
he is used to. There are only a handful of students present thus far, all
looking wide eyed and eager. Louis wonders how many of them are in their
first ever college class too. Louis avoids any eye contact and makes his way
towards the back of the room. He doesn’t sit in the back row, but one down
from the back. He picks a seat near the end of the row, next to the aisle, in
case he needs to make a quick get away. He doesn't like feeling trapped, not
after everything that’s happened. He jogs his leg, jumping almost every
single time the door opens. Everything just seems so loud, and he really
wants another cigarette.
When the door opens for the seventeenth time, Louis doesn’t jump, just
keeps staring ahead, lost in his own mind where he allowed the self doubt to
creep back in. What the fuck is he doing here? Why would he even attempt
this? Does God want him here? Louis has prayed about it, but doesn’t feel
like he received an answer. There was no divine voice in his head telling
him what to do, just silence sliced through by rampant chaos. He taps his
finger on the desk, debating for the one hundred and sixty seventh time
about whether or not he should just get up and leave. No one is going to
miss him here. No one is going to notice his absence. He made a promise to
his mom, though. He told her he would try, and he finally makes the
decision to stay based on that fact alone. He has to start somewhere, and it’s
not like Harry will be here to tempt him. He can’t avoid the real world
forever, and this may just be a test of his faith. Maybe God does want him
here.
“Is this seat taken?” Louis’ head snaps up at the sound of the familiar voice,
his heartbeat picking up to the point that it doesn’t feel like it’s beating at
all, just one long continuous buzz in his head. Liam’s brown eyes are
staring down at him, kind and warm. Louis could say ‘yes’, and he is almost
positive Liam would go find another seat, however, Louis finds himself
shaking his head. He watches Liam as he sits down in the seat next to the
aisle, trying not to hyperventilate at the fact that he is now somewhat
trapped. It’s just Liam, though. Liam would move if he asked, so he tries to
relax. Tries to concentrate on Liam’s genuine smile, and the words that are
filtering through his lips.
“I didn’t know you changed your mind, and it’s so cool that we are in the
same class,” Liam says, his voice sounding much too chipper. Louis
wonders if Liam knows what happened. He isn’t asking questions about
Louis’ disappearance thankfully, but that fact in and of itself brings Louis to
the conclusion that Liam has to know something. His mom probably told
him. She had been trying to get Louis to call Liam for the last week, but
Louis always refused. He just doesn’t want to deal with the questions, even
though Liam isn’t currently asking any.
“Yeah. I decided last week,” Louis responds, his voice sounding foreign
even to himself. He clears his throat, but he knows it won’t do any good. He
just can’t seem to put his normal tone into it. It just sounds like an echo to
his ears, not the real thing but close enough for most people not to notice.
Liam tries to cover a wince, so apparently he noticed. He takes in Liam’s
appearance. He looks good, healthy, like he has been working out a lot. He
is wearing a black t-shirt and jeans with a flat billed hat. Louis can’t find it
in him to give him shit for it, even though he most definitely looks like a
stereotypical frat boy. He just doesn't want to. He doesn’t feel like it, and
that kind of scares him.
“Are you joining the football team? I know it is late since we’ve already
started practice, but the coach was scouting you last season. I’m sure he
would make an exception for the best freshman running back in the state,”
Liam says, excitement lacing his tone. Louis winces at the mention of
football. He doesn’t want anything to do with his old life. He doesn't want
any reminder, and there is far too much about football that reminds him of
Harry. Pictures of Harry wearing his jersey filter through Louis’ mind at a
rapid pace, his lips painted black. Louis can feel his dick twitch, so he
pinches his arm, reminding himself of the pain he felt during aversion
therapy. He needs to associate Harry with pain.
“No. I don’t think I will,” is all Louis says, allowing an awkward silence to
fall over them. Ignoring Liam’s small ‘oh’ in response, he stares directly
ahead, praying that he can keep it together. He just keeps telling himself
that he just has this class and one more, then he can go home. He can make
it to his bed where he can curl up and cry again. Where he can pretend there
is no temptation, and God will do as he has been begging and heal him.
Everything just seems so difficult now, so fucking confusing that Louis is
left with his head spinning after only a few minutes. Somewhere in the
recesses of his mind, he hears the door to the classroom open. He hopes it’s
the professor because he just wants to get this over with.
When he feels Liam tense beside him, he looks up to find green eyes on
him. Green eyes outlined in black, of course, because Louis can’t have nice
virtuous things. Three things happen, all simultaneously: his limbs freeze,
his stomach drops to the pits of Hell, and his heart feels like it is going to
flutter out of his chest and float to the person it’s not allowed near. Fuck.
No. This can’t be happening. Louis’ limbs begin to shake as he takes in
Harry’s appearance. Louis has never understood the saying ‘a sight for sore
eyes’ until this very fucking moment because he wants to cry just from
seeing Harry while he should want to run away screaming.
He thought Harry would look different. Maybe his skin would be red with
flames licking around him. It is ridiculous, but that is the only way Louis
has allowed himself to picture Harry in his mind, as the person that Satan
uses to tempt him, but no. Harry isn’t different. He is the same boy that
Louis remembers, that Louis loves, with the exception of a few key
differences. His hair has gotten much longer, the dark curls almost touching
his shoulders. His bracelets are new, not the same ones Louis has seen him
in countless times, and Louis doesn’t allow himself to wonder why. Lastly,
Louis spots a new tattoo on the inner part of Harry’s left bicep, near his
elbow. The words ‘You Booze, You Lose’ etched into his pale skin with
harsh, sharp letters, a bottle with a blank label breaking up the two phrases.
Louis tells himself he doesn't want to know what inspired the new tattoo.
He tells himself that he doesn’t find the damn thing incredibly sexy. That he
doesn’t have the indescribable urge to run a pointed tongue over each
jagged letter. Louis shakes his head, feeling the panic rise in his chest. He
tears his eyes away from Harry as he grabs his phone, frantically texting his
mom, begging her to change his schedule. He gets a quick response telling
him that there are no other Psychology courses available, and if he doesn’t
take it, he will be behind in his major. He almost doesn't care. He can’t do
this. He should never have agreed to this in the first place. If he’d just
stayed home where he is supposed to be, locked away from the world and
its cruel temptations, none of this would be happening now.
He stiffens when he feels someone sit down behind him, the iced coffee in
his hand creating a deafening noise when it hits the plastic sides of the cup
making Louis flinch. Shit. Shit. Shit. He takes a deep breath, thinking about
climbing over Liam and bolting. Why would God do this to him? Why
would he put them in the same fucking class? Was this a test? It has to be a
test. God is testing Louis, putting his apple in front of him. Louis can’t
leave the class though, and run back home to his room where he is safe
from God's trials. No. He has to show God that he is serious about this. That
he is willing to put in the work and show that he deserves God’s healing
hands. He can do this. He needs to do this.
“Well slap some butter on my ass and call me a biscuit. What are you doing
here, Lou?” Niall’s voice breaks Louis out of his thoughts, and Louis can’t
stop the laughter that bubbles from his chest escaping out into the room. He
isn’t sure what to do because he hasn’t heard his own laughter in so long, he
isn’t certain that it is his own laugh. He doesn't remember it, but it
happened. Niall caught him so off guard with his comment, Louis fucking
laughed. He almost feels bad for it, as if he doesn't deserve the laughter, but
it happened.
Louis is saved from answering because the professor chooses that exact
moment to start the class, going through the syllabus. Louis pretends to pay
attention, but he can feel Harry’s presence behind him. It makes him warm
and his stomach flutter. The damn thing somehow made it’s way back from
the pits of hell just to torture him with fucking fluttering. He hasn’t looked
at him again though, keeping his eyes straight ahead, trained on the screen
displaying the course outline. He nods, pretending to be overly interested in
the attendance policy and tries to keep his breathing even, reminding
himself that he isn’t trapped, that his hands aren’t tied down. He can feel
Harry’s eyes on him still, and he isn’t sure if that makes him feel better or
worse. He tells himself that it’s worse.
“Okay. I want you all to break up into groups of four, the people you are
sitting with is fine. Tell the others a bit about yourself, and then you will
introduce a member of your group to the class. You have ten minutes,” the
professor says, and Louis really should remember her name. She’s young,
probably a graduate student. She seems nice so far, even if she is making
Louis talk to people he used to call his friends. He feels a tap on his
shoulder and flinches, looking back to find Harry staring at him with an
expression on his beautiful face Louis can’t quite read. It reminds him of all
those months ago, when he couldn’t read Harry to save his life, the reason
he began speaking to him to begin with.
A tension has fallen over their group now, making it feel as though he is
suffocating. The noise of their other classmates chatting are drowned out by
the blood rushing to Louis’ ears. His eyes keep going to the drop of coffee
that has found its home on Harry’s full bottom lip. Louis has never in his
life been so jealous of a fucking liquid substance, and he has the ever
present urge to lick it off. Fuck. He has to look away from Harry. He has to
because he kind of wants to kiss him but he isn’t allowed to. He needs to
prove to God that he can do this, so he looks at Liam, his stupid flat billed
hat is a terrible distraction from Harry. Louis jumps when a loud laugh
comes from the group beside him, grating on his nerves. The rest of the
group looks startled by the outburst, their heads snapping in the direction
the noise came from.
“Jesus… no reason cuttin’ a shine like that,” Niall says shaking his head,
and what the fuck does ‘cuttin’ a shine’ mean. Is shine something you can
cut? Louis thought it was something that lights do, he didn’t know it could
be a physical object. Apparently you can cut it though, or at least Niall
thinks you can. Louis can’t even begin to fathom what the fuck Niall is
trying to say, so, without thinking, he looks to Harry for a translation.
Thank God that sinful drop of liquid is no longer on his lips, but Louis
almost pouts at the fact that he didn’t get to witness Harry’s pink tongue
dart out to lick it away.
___________
Harry swallows when Louis’ blue eyes find his, almost out of habit. He is
confused by Niall’s comment, and Harry’s chest tightens because Louis is
looking to him for a translation when he has been ignoring him since they
arrived in the classroom. Harry gives him a reassuring smile before he
answers, wanting Louis to know that this is okay. That he is still Harry. His
Harry. The Harry that loves him but didn’t have the balls to tell him before
he was forced to go to straight camp. “It means carrying on. Like there was
no reason for them to yell and carry on like that. Overreacting,” Harry
supplies. Louis nods his head, his gaze finding Liam again, but not looking
at him.
It hurts Harry’s heart seeing how confused Louis seems, almost like he is
lost. His eyes have severe dark rings around them, as though he hasn’t been
sleeping. He probably hasn’t slept decently since their last night together,
which scares Harry. He is thinner than Harry has ever seen him, the bones
in his dainty wrists protruding through his skin, looking so fragile. His skin
is pale, gaunt even, and he just seems so different, almost subdued. He isn’t
smiling, even his laugh sounded strained, almost as if he had forgotten how.
Maybe he has forgotten how, but his smile is still lovely, his blue eyes
crinkling at the corners, and in that moment, Harry did see the boy he
knows, the boy he loves. He wants him back, so Harry tamps down his
anxiety, and leans towards Louis.
“So tell me a bit about yourself,” Harry says, with a flirtatious smirk. Louis
looks surprised by the question, his eyes snapping up to meet Harry’s gaze
once more. Harry chances a glance over at Liam and Niall, finding that they
just so happened to have started a conversation. Perfect. Maybe this is
Harry’s opportunity to talk to Louis. When Louis doesn’t answer, he
continues, pushing past his insecurities to keep the conversation going. He
keeps his tone flirtatious with his next question. “Why did you wanna take
this class?”
“‘Cause my advisor told me too,” Louis answers, shortly.
“Not interested in the subject at all?” Harry presses, shocked that Louis
even answered his question. He thought Louis would point blank ignore
him. Louis’ eyes seem to focus finally, blinking a few times. Harry allows
his mouth to crook into a small, reassuring smile. His heart feels like it is
about to beat out of his chest though, and he has to clasp his hands together
to stop them from shaking violently. Fuck he has missed Louis’ voice. It
isn’t full of the same passion it once was, but he can still hear traces of it
folded in between the inflections.
“I am. I’m interested in how the things we are exposed to during our
developmental years affect us throughout life. How they change and shape
the way we act, think, and who we are attracted to,” Louis says, his eyes
flickering over Harry’s body as the says the last part. Harry thinks he sees a
bit of desire in his gaze, but he may be grasping at straws. He thought he
saw it earlier, Louis looking at his lips intensely, but there is a very good
possibility he was imagining all of it. Interesting. Harry wasn’t expecting
that answer at all. He can feel that this is a delicate moment, so he pretends
it is any other discussion with Louis, looking at it as if it is a game of chess.
“Well, I think you will find that nothing changes what we are attracted to,”
Harry responds, his words quiet and careful, trying to figure out where all
of this is coming from. Is this something Louis was told at that horrible
camp? It has to be. He seems adamant about it, like he needs this class to
clarify what he already knows. As if he needs some sort of reassurance
from someone outside of the camp to prove to him that they were right.
That he can change who he is attracted to. Harry wonders if Louis actually
truly believes all of the bullshit they fed him, or if he only believes it
because he needs to have a reason for having gone through it. Harry
understands that better than anyone.
“It does,” Louis says firmly. “Like I grew up around mostly women,
without a present father figure during my developmental years, which made
me more… flamboyant and confused about proper gender roles,” Louis
insists, and Harry feels like he has been thrown for a loop, his brain
spinning with the incorrect information Louis just threw his way. What the
actual fuck? Where did he get that from? Is this something they drilled into
his brain at the camp? Harry feels sick thinking about it, and wants to yell at
whoever the fuck told Louis this. Whoever brainwashed him into believing
such bullshit, but Harry squeezes his hands together tightly, reminding
himself that it will do no good to yell. It would only make things worse, so
he needs to approach this calmly.
“That’s simply incorrect, Lou. Back in the 60’s, this woman had identical
twin boys. Something went wrong during the circumcision, leaving one of
the twin’s genitalia severely deformed,” Harry starts, watching Louis wince
at that, or the nickname that automatically fell from Harry’s lips, he can’t
decide which. Louis looks like he is about to protest, probably unsure of
where Harry is going with this, but Harry powers on, ignoring Louis’
slightly open mouth even though he desperately wants to kiss it. He hasn’t
seen Louis in so long, his body is definitely reacting to him, his cock
twitching in interest at the sight of his pink lips. He shakes his head,
needing to focus and continues.
“Anyway, the doctors convinced the parents of the twins to just raise their
son as a daughter. They placed him in dresses, gave him a girl’s name and
even sent him to therapy with a psychologist to discuss proper ‘gender
norms’. The son, though, never really felt like a female. It left him
confused. As he got older, the story came out, and he began living life as a
male, however, it was a little too late. He ended up committing suicide. He
just couldn’t handle it. He lost his identity and didn’t really know who he
was. He was too fucked up from being forced to be someone he wasn’t. The
doctor thought, when beginning the experiment, that he could prove gender
was something that could be taught. Being male or female was a learned
behavior passed down from the parents. He couldn’t have been more
wrong. You are who you are. You are born the way you are born. No
amount of training or therapy can change that.”
Louis’ mouth has dropped even further, creating a larger ‘o’, clearly not
expecting Harry to answer that way. Harry almost feels bad because he
looks so confused, his blue eyes glassy with unshed tears. If this is what
Harry has to do to get Louis back, he will do it. He will take whatever
fucked up shit they placed into Louis’ skull and dismantle it, fact by fact. It
won’t be too hard. He has been doing it since he met Louis, but he worries
that this time, Louis’ sanity is on the line. Unsettled by the fact that maybe
the people at the camp went too far, and this is just the way he is now. That
he doesn’t want to believe in facts. He watches Louis, unsure of what he is
going to say next. Louis blinks a few times, shaking his head, his eyes
refocusing on Harry.
“I don’t want to talk about this. I don’t want to talk to you. Leave me alone,
and don’t call me ‘Lou”. My name is Louis. You’re nothing but a
temptation to me, put here by the Devil. I’m done,” Louis says, his voice
trembling and unsure, no finality to his tone whatsoever. His words are
shaky, as if Louis doesn't believe them. So Harry pushes any feeling of hurt
out of his body, placing them to the side because Louis is clearly the one
that is hurting. Louis is the one that Harry needs to take care of, and he will.
Harry drops the topic for now, watching Louis’ eyes go unfocused again as
he stares at the wall behind Liam’s head. He can almost see his own words
churning in Louis’ mind, his brain trying to figure out how the camp
counselors would have answered Harry’s rebuttal.
“Okay, everyone. I want you to go around the room and introduce someone
from your group,” the professor says, regaining the classroom’s attention.
Harry likes her. He thinks her name is Samantha, telling the class to call her
Sam. She is young and passionate about the subject, making Harry feel
more comfortable with her casual way of speaking. She, too, had a
Starbucks coffee in her hand when they first arrived, her brown hair falling
down, almost to her waist, glasses perched on her nose. They start at the
front of the room, and Harry barely pays attention, too busy watching
Louis. His breathing has become somewhat shallow, but he doesn't seem
completely panicked. He is holding it together, and Harry hopes that he
doesn't transfer out of this course because of him. He would be heartbroken
if Louis did that.
“This is Niall. He loves sports even though he is shit at playing them. He

has also recently become a big fan of Doctor Who. He is undecided on his
major, but is leaning towards the medical field or possibly becoming a
teacher,” Liam introduces him, gesturing towards his blond haired friend.
Harry is surprised at Liam’s use of the cuss word, however Sam has
dropped her own f-bomb or two while she was going over the syllabus.
Niall, for his part waves to everyone, smiling brightly, his teeth straight and
white without the blue gleam of the braces. Liam winks at Harry, and the
realization dawns on him of what they had planned.
“This is Liam. He plays football on the team here. His major is Athletic
Trainin’. He enjoys long moonlight strolls on the beach, or creek bank
should I say, since we don’t really have beaches. He’s quite the catch if any
of you ladies are interested in fishin.” Niall spreads his arms wide towards
Liam, as if he is Vanna White presenting the letters on the Wheel of Fortune
board, prompting everyone to laugh. He shoots Harry a shit eating grin,
dropping his arms and Harry smiles back. Liam looks horrified, his cheeks
tinting red, making Harry chuckle. The girls in the room are looking at him,
giggling to each other, and Liam appears as if he wants nothing more to
sink through the floor. Liam doesn’t get embarrassed easily or often, so
Harry doesn’t feel bad for enjoying it just a tiny bit.
“This is Louis. He is the best high school running back in the state. He has
moved around a lot, but recently found a home in this area. His major is
pre-med, I think. He loves making people laugh. Umm-- three words I
would use to describe him are Loud. Loud. And Loud,” Harry says,
counting off each repeated word on a long, ringed finger. The class laughs,
and he thinks he may detect a very small smile on Louis’ face, but he
crosses his arms, pretending it didn’t happen. Harry counts that as a win. He
sees the exact moment that Louis realizes he now has to say something
about Harry since he was the only person left in their group and the teacher
is looking at him expectedly. His limbs freeze, and Harry watches his
Adam’s apple bob with his nerves. Louis clears his throat, the words
coming out high and shaky.
“This is Harry. He is very creative. He loves writing music and poetry as

well as singing. He works part time at a music store. He is also really smart
and makes everyone around him look dumb in math and physics. His major
is Engineering, but he loves to learn about everything. He is also funny; he
has the kind of sense of humor that takes you a minute to catch onto, but
once you do it’s hilarious.” Harry can feel the tears prickle in his eyes, his
heart in his throat. He doesn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t
that. Louis’ posture is still closed off, and he isn’t looking at anyone. The
teacher just smiles and nods, moving on to the next group.
Chapter End Notes
What Harry said about the twins actually happened. It is the story of
David Reimer, and it is very sad. If you would like to read more about
it, you can click the link to his wiki page.

Feel free to follow my Social Media accounts!
Crawling
Chapter Summary
Harry thinks he may have found a way to get Louis to talk.

Chapter Notes
Still with me?

There's something inside me that pulls beneath the surface
Consuming, confusing
This lack of self control I fear is never ending
Controlling
I can't seem to find myself again
My walls are closing in
I've felt this way before, so insecure- Linkin Park
“Do you think we can convince him to go to lunch?” Harry asks, looking at
Niall and Liam as they make their way to English 101. It’s early. Far earlier
than Harry ever wants to get up, but he was pleasantly surprised to find that
he also shares this course with Louis. He is shocked Louis didn’t transfer
out the first week. Jay told him that she talked him out of it though, pointing
out that there weren’t any open courses. Harry was thankful for that, but
Louis has been steadfastly ignoring any of Harry’s attempts to talk to him
since the first day.
It’s been two weeks, and even though Harry sits behind him in both classes,
Louis has found every way possible to ignore him. He usually has his hood
up, even though it hasn’t been cold at all, and his earbuds in, blasting
religious hymns from his new phone, that make Harry grimace. He only
takes his earbuds out when the professor begins the lecture, then practically
runs out of the door as soon as it’s over. Harry wants to cry every time it
happens, but he reminds himself not to give up. Not after everything they
shared on prom night. He just needs to find a way to get Louis to talk to
him again, to get Louis to let him in. He needs to know how Louis feels,
and what happened to him at that godsdamned camp, so that he knows what
he is up against.
“I don’t know, man. Maybe,” Niall responds, glancing at Harry, his

expression uncertain.
“Have you been able to get him to talk, Li?” Harry asks, glancing over at
his friend.
“I have Chemistry lecture and lab with him, too, so he talks to me a bit
more in there. Never says anything about what happened, but we talk about
little things, like the weather. He asked me why I wasn’t at church anymore,
the other day. I told him that I still believe in God and shit, but I found a
church I liked better. He didn’t seem too happy about that, but then went
into talking about the story of David and Goliath, which I thought was
odd,” Liam answers with a shrug of his broad shoulders. Harry brings a
hand up to his lips, fiddling with it in thought as they walk to their
classroom.
Once they walk through the door, they find Louis sat in his normal seat,
headphones already in. They sit behind him, looking at each other in
thought before Niall exclaims, “Fuck this!” then reaches one hand up to
yank Louis’ headphones out. Louis jumps, his whole body going tense as he
whirls around, fear written all over his features. Harry watches his face
relax just a bit when he sees Niall holding his earbuds like a prize, grinning
broadly. Harry wants to chastise Niall, but he can’t find it in him to do so
when Louis’ eyes are on his, so blue Harry has the desire to float away in
them. Harry shakes his head, trying to dislodge the thoughts and maybe
speak.
“Give me my headphones back,” Louis demands, holding out one small

hand, looking at Niall impatiently. Harry barely suppresses a smile because
he looks like an angry hedgehog, his mouth pressed into a thin line, brown
hair sticking out in odd directions from underneath his hood. He looks soft
and sleepy, and Harry very much wants to cuddle him. Louis wouldn’t let
him touch him, though. Harry can barely hear the sound of the religious
hymns coming from the tiny speakers, and he wants to roll his eyes. He
can’t help but be frustrated, feeling as though they have to start all over
again, then he reminds himself that they don’t. He just needs to somehow
remind Louis who he is, and who they were before he was brainwashed.
“We wanna ask you a question first,” Harry says, clearing his throat. Louis
glares at him for a brief moment, before he looks at Liam, as if Harry had
never spoken. Harry balls his hands into fists, taking a deep breath, so he
doesn’t strangle the man he loves. He knows that this behavior isn’t Louis’
fault but a product of the brainwashing the camp instilled. It still stings. It
still makes Harry hurt at the amount of cold indifference Louis had been
able to muster up towards him. He has to keep reminding himself that this
isn’t Louis, not really, just the creation of a sick group of people. He has the
sudden desire to find the people responsible for Louis’ change in behavior
and punch them right in the face. He won’t, though. He is better than that.
He will just win with his words.
“What?” Louis snaps, but there is no real bite to it. He looks curious, which
is good. Harry can use curiosity. He likes curiosity. It’s a healthy emotion.
Louis at least looks a bit better than he did two weeks ago. He has gained a
little weight, and the dark ring around his eyes went from purphish-black to
bluish-purple. He is still refusing to see his sisters anymore than he has to,
according to Jay. Harry is also fairly positive he started smoking. He can
smell it on him. Harry doesn't care. He probably picked it up to help deal
with the constant stress he is under. Harry had his own vice, so he can’t
judge Louis for his.
“We wanted to know if you would like to go to dinner with us on Friday?

Maybe to the diner we used to go to in town. We haven't hung out, just the
four of us, in a while so we thought it could be fun,” Niall says, his words
hesitant and unsure. Definitely not the lunch Harry had suggested earlier,
but he will take anything at this point. Laim nods along to his question, and
Harry just grips his hands together tightly, silently begging whatever forces
are working that Louis will say ‘yes’.
“No,” Louis responds, the single word coming out quickly, then he bites his
lip almost as if he is considering the proposition. Harry wants to replace
Louis’ teeth with his own. Fuck. He misses kissing him. He misses talking
to him. He just misses him. Harry’s cock twitches at the thought of kissing
Louis again. It will happen. It has to. Harry doesn’t ever want to live
without Louis again. He knows he can, but he doesn’t want to. Not if he
doesn't have to. Harry is shocked by the realization. Louis no longer gives
him something to live for, but gives him someone to live alongside.
Someone to be happy with. Someone to share his life with, a life that he
wants.
“Just think about it. Please?” Liam begs, and Harry has no idea how Louis
could resist with Liam making his brown eyes big and round, his ‘puppy
dog’ look in full play, a prominent pout on his lips. Harry would have said
‘yes’, and he is heartless. Well maybe not heartless anymore. Louis brought
him back to life, made his heart beat once more. He can be the same for
Louis because right now, Louis is a ghost of a man. He isn’t who he used to
be, and even though Harry has touched him once or twice in passing, he
was still surprised his hand didn’t go right through him.
“Fine,” Louis agrees, rolling his eyes, and Harry almost cheers. It is the first
glimpse of the real Louis he has had since he has been back, and Harry very
well may cry. He feels like he has accomplished something huge, even
though he doesn’t know what that something is. It’s not a ‘yes,’ but it is
something. Something is better than nothing, right? Harry will take it as a
win. He smiles then freezes when Louis’ blue eyes glance down to find his
newest tattoo. He was wondering if Louis had noticed it, and it seems that
he has. Harry tries not to move or blink as Louis traces the letters with his
eyes, before biting his lip again, indicating another internal battle. Louis’
heart must win, because the words are tumbling out of his firm lips soon
after, and Harry can’t breathe.
“Why did you get that tattoo?” Louis asks, eyes traveling between Harry’s
arm and his eyes, as he begins chewing on his lips again. Fuck. He really
needs to stop doing that. Harry has been fantasizing about those lips for far
too long now, getting off to them on desparte nights when he just wants
Louis back. Louis would probably shame him if he knew about that,
spewing some nonsense about masterbation being a sin and other shit that
Harry already knows. Harry will still do it though. He will still use his
memories of Louis to get himself off, then fall asleep fitfully, only to repeat
the same process the next night.
As Harry opens his mouth to respond, the professor interrupts him. Harry
could fucking scream. He just got Louis to start a conversation, and she
ruined it. Harry blinks back tears as he watches Louis tear his eyes away
from him, turning back towards the front of the room, as if he never asked
the question at all. He needs to think fast or the moment will be gone,
possibly never come again. An idea strikes Harry then, and he has the
random urge to give himself a pat on the back. He is going to take a page
from Louis’ book, literally. He rips a page out of his notebook, and quick
scribbles on it. He holds his breath as he taps Louis on the shoulder with it.
Louis looks at it, unsure, as if Harry is handing him the fruit from the tree
of knowledge. Harry wiggles it, smirking at Louis. Louis rolls his eyes, but
slowly takes it, the page slipping from between Harry’s fingers, the noise
almost audible even over the sound of the teacher’s voice.
Harry holds his breath, not paying attention to the professor at all, as he
watches Louis’ small nimble fingers carefully unfold the note. Louis’ eyes
scan it, and he bites his lip again in thought, probably trying to decide if he
wants to respond. Harry resists the urge to tap his fingers or jog his leg in
nervous anticipation, the rubber band in his stomach pulled taut, ready to
snap. He feels like he is about to fall out of his seat, his ass literally on the
edge of it as he peers over Louis’ shoulder, trying to see what he is doing.
His eyebrows hit his hairline in shock when Louis picks up his pen,
scribbling something, then quickly folds the paper and hands it back to
Harry, as if he is worried he will change his mind. Harry takes it,
purposefully brushing their fingers together during the exchange. Louis
flinches while Harry gets a slight hard on, Louis’ skin doing something to
him.
Harry: Do you really wanna know?
Louis: Yes
Harry traces the word written in Louis’ messy scrawl, forcing his tears
back. He can’t let them drop on to the page, or Louis will no doubt shut him
out again. He just didn’t know if he would ever see Louis’ writing again,
much less something given to him by Louis. It’s just a single word in blue
ink. It was quickly written, messy even for Louis, but it is clear. It’s so
small, but it is incredibly significant. It’s a step. It is a step in the right
direction, towards who they were supposed to be before camp. Harry’s heart
feels like it is going to burst. He looks down at his tattoo, trying to decide
how much he wants to tell Louis. He doesn’t want their conversation to end
here, so he has to say just enough to answer the question but not too much,
so that Louis’ doesn’t have to ask anything else. It is a delicate balance, so
Harry takes a deep breath, jotting down his response.
He folds the note, glancing over at Niall who is smiling like a loon. Liam
looks hopeful as well. He slips the note over Louis’ shoulder, the professor
none the wiser. Louis takes it, writing something down in his notes from the
lecture before he opens it, his eyes scanning the page. His profile is lovely,
even with the powerpoint about something Harry isn’t paying attention to
serving as a backdrop. It could be the fucking ocean or the grand canyon,
and Harry would still be focusing on Louis because Louis is the most
beutiful thing the the wold. Harry’s heart skips a beat when Louis looks
back at him for a split second, and Harry thinks he may see concern written
on his features. It’s gone before he can decipher it, though. Louis isn’t that
great at covering his emotions and thoughts, but he has learned to turn away
so that Harry can’t read him. It frustrates Harry, but he is learning to work
around it.
He can still read his body language, though, which has been a fucking
blessing. His shoulders are tense as he writes something on their note, but
then relaxes as he hands it back to him. Harry has to force himself not to
move too quickly, not wanting to seem overeager even though he is as eager
as a prisoner is for the sun. He has been deprived of Louis for so long, that
is exactly how he feels. He bathes in it, soaking up every bit of the vitamins
Louis will give him. Louis isn’t shining as bright as he used to, but Harry
has been seeing rays slowly peek out here and there. He is determined to
see him at his full potential again. Harry allows their fingers to graze again
as he takes the note from Louis’ hand. Louis shivers this time, and Harry
silently marks another point for himself.
Harry: Do you remember my story?
Louis: Yes……
Harry doesn’t know why but the ‘........’ at the end of Louis’ answer gives
him hope. It’s another very small thing that makes a huge difference. It
means another ray of his light is shining through. Maybe he was broken at
that camp, and his light covered, but if Harry can just brush off whatever
tarnish they put on him, his light can shine through the crevices of his
broken soul, bathing the world again. As Louis once said, broken is
beautiful. Harry is going to believe that, so he bows his head to respond,
hoping that Louis will allow this to continue.
Harry: Well, after you left, I kind of had a relapse of sorts.
Louis: What do you mean?
Harry: It was nothing serious
That was the understatement of the century, but Harry bites his lip, handing
it back to Louis. He watches as Louis’ blue eyes scan the page, finding his
gaze after reading his words. Harry freezes because Louis is looking at him
intently, studying him. The sensation is odd; he feels exposed. He hasn’t felt
like that under Louis’ gaze in so long, he almost wants to squirm. Harry can
feel his cheeks burning, his hand coming up to fiddle with his bottom lip.
Louis must see what he is looking for because he turns back towards the
page, writing a response. It must not be very long, because he is handing it
back to Harry a moment later.
Louis: Haz
Harry’s broken heart does a fucking summersault in his chest, and he

forgets how to breathe when he reads the nickname on the page. He can’t
stop his fingers from tracing it, a smile playing on his lips. Holy shit. Harry
blinks back another wave of tears, elation threatening to flow from every
cell of his body to drown the fucking world. He smiles as he writes his
response, handing it to Louis. The other boy opens the page, his own smile
playing on his lips as he reads the word Harry wrote.
Harry: Yes?
Louis: Tell me
Harry: Are you sure you wanna know?
Louis: Yes
Harry pauses for a moment, trying to decide on exactly how much he is

willing to admit. He wants to be honest, but at the same time, he also
doesn’t want Louis to blame himself for what happened. It wasn’t Louis’
fault; it was Mark’s however Louis blamed himself for Harry relapsing the
first time. Harry will never forget the look in Louis’ eyes when he thought
he was responsible for Harry hurting himself. He looked panicked, almost
sick with it. Harry had to reassure him in that moment, so he did. Harry
doesn't know how this Louis would handle that. Would he be upset again?
Would he be happy that he caused a fag so much pain, he wanted to kill
himself? Harry doubts the later option, but it is still a concern somewhere in
the back of his mind. He isn’t sure what Louis feels anymore. He pushes it
away completely, arguing with himself like his therapist told him to do. He
decides to go with something slightly vague.
Harry: After graduation, I got shitfaced.
After Louis reads what Harry has written, he looks back at him, his blue
eyes worried. He is concerned. Harry almost faints from the delight
coursing through his system. Another glimpse of the boy Harry knows, the
one he fell in love with. Harry is aware that Louis will probably never be
the same, not after living through something so traumatic. Harry doesn't
care about that, he just wants Louis back. He doesn't care if he is broken
because there is nothing wrong with that. He just wants to squeeze Louis
until he has mended, until he resembles the person he was before, just a
better version who has survived, scars and all. Louis hesitates as he writes a
response, and Harry feels sick at the thought that Louis may be ending their
conversation.
Louis: There’s more. I know there’s more.
Harry: You’re right. There is more, but you don’t need to worry about me,
right?
He bites his lip as he hands the note back to Louis with shaking fingers. He
went out on a limb with his response, dangling bait in front of Louis’ face.
It’s a gamble. Louis could say ‘yeah, you’re right, I don’t care’, or he could
say something more along the lines of what Harry was walking him into
with the whole conversation. He holds his breath as Louis quickly opens the
note, almost as if he is eager to read whatever Harry has to say. Harry
doesn’t let himself believe that, though. It is far too hopeful. He can’t see
whatever Louis is writing, but Louis seems almost hesitant again. Harry
hopes he didn’t just make a mistake. He hopes Louis will show concern.
Louis: Please… just tell me
It is not a declaration of concern, but it also doesn’t outright say that he

doesn't care. Interesting. Louis must have learned something from Harry
about getting around a question. Harry would tell him he is proud, but he is
currently irritated that Louis would use his own trick against him. He is still
asking to know, the ‘please’ seeming almost desperate. Harry wants to
believe that Louis wants to know. He feels like he needs to believe it to
keep on going. The past few months have been so difficult, but maybe there
is a light at the end of this damned tunnel. Maybe he will feel the sun once
again. He takes a deep breath, and with still shaking hands, he writes his
response. A year ago, he would have never done this. He would have never
outright given this kind of information to anyone, but he is going to have to
get over his fears, just as much as Louis.
Harry: I was really upset after everything happened. You know… when
you didn’t show up at graduation. My brain went to a dark place, and I
jumped to conclusions. I went to our old house and got drunk. That made
everything worse which lead to mistakes.
Louis: Mistakes?
Harry had purposefully left it open to see if Louis was curious enough to
ask more questions about it, like he would have a few months ago. Louis
apparently is, and Harry is only slightly shocked. Okay, maybe extremely
shocked. He feels sick at the thought of telling Louis this because old habits
die hard, but he shakes his head, reminding himself that he trusts Louis. He
has to remind Louis of that to get Louis’ trust him in return. He can do this.
He can write what happened. He can show it to Louis. His skin feels raw
where it brushes the page while writing his response. He feels like he can’t
breathe, but he forces air into his lungs. He reminds himself that this will be
worth it. Opening himself up again, will be worth it. He can do this for
Louis. He can do this for them.
Harry: I started cutting because the whiskey just wasn’t enough to numb
everything. I wanted to die. I was actually going to kill myself, by my mom
found me and talked to me. She reminded me that I have things to live for
and unanswered questions. I got this tattoo a few weeks ago to remind
myself not to drink when I’m upset ever again. It always leads to bad
things.
Louis looks back at Harry after he reads it, and his blue eyes are watery, as
if he is holding back tears. A stabbing pain goes through Harry’s chest at
seeing Louis so upset. Harry wasn’t sure that what happened to him would
affect Louis in anyway, wasn’t sure if the camp had made him truly
heartless and indifferent towards Harry. He is relieved to see that it hadn’t.
That the caring man Harry loves is still in three somewhere, hiding behind a
false sense of faith. Louis’ gaze finds the page again, his mouth opening
and closing a few times as if he is thinking about what he wants to write.
Finally he leans back, motioning for Harry to meet him halfway. Harry
quickly obliges, leaning so close to Louis he can smell the familiar scent of
his shampoo and the distinct smell of cigarettes on his breath.
“Haz. I-- I’m sorry,” Louis whispers, the words making the hairs on the
nape of Harry’s neck stand to attention. Harry immediately begins shaking
his head, the nickname falling from Louis’ lips bringing a fresh wave of
tears to his eyes. There is concern in Louis’ voice, and Harry kind of wants
to grab him and never let go. This is the most Louis-like he has been since
he got back from the camp, and Harry barely suppresses a sigh in relief. He
is getting glimpses of him, like there is a glitch in the camp’s programming,
the old Louis showing through once in a while. Louis’ mouth opens to say
more, but Harry puts both hands up to silence him.
“No. Don’t apologize. It wasn’t your fault, Lou. It was Mark’s. Don’t blame
yourself. Blame him for taking you somewhere against your will. For
forcing you to do something, you never wanted to do. It was a bad day, not
a bad life. I don’t blame you anymore, and I know that you never meant to
hurt me. That it wasn’t your doing,” Harry tells him, his voice fierce even
though it isn’t above a whisper. He leans back enough to watch Louis’
expression. Louis closes his mouth, his eyes going far away. Harry wonders
if he is remembering the day Mark took him. Jay said it was tense, but
Harry couldn’t imagine. Louis’ eyes are glassy, wet and unfocused. Harry
wants to touch him. He wants to reach out, but he is afraid Louis will slip
through his fingers, like fog at the edge of a cliff.
“I’m glad your mom was there this time,” Louis finally responds, his voice
cracking with the phrase ‘this time’. His eyes focus again on Harry, and
there is an honesty there that makes Harry’s whole body ache. Their bubble
is burst with a loud audible pop when Harry realizes the room as fallen into
silence. He looks up to find the teacher has paused her lecture to glare at
them. They both mumble apologies, Louis sinking down into his chair, their
note still open on his desk. Harry’s face is burning with embarrassment, and
his mind is reeling with what just happened.
___________
“Alright, today we will be working on The Thermodynamics of Solubility.

Please open your lab workbooks to section 4. You and your lab partner may
get started,” Aaron says to the class. Louis thought at first that it was
strange calling their professors by their first name, but he has gotten used to
it. He has learned that professors usually choose to be called by their first
name, unless they have a doctorate, then they may prefer something else.
Aaron is young though, probably a graduate student. He seems nice enough
and laid back. He is so much better than their actual chemistry teacher. That
man is old and absolutely crazy. Brilliant in his field, but crazy all the same.
“Start weighing out the Potassium Nitrate, and I’ll go grab a graduated
cylinder,” Liam says. Louis nods in response, grabbing the ingredient with a
gloved hand, measuring 20 grams. His brain goes back to the conversation
he had with Harry the day before yesterday, the note they passed. Louis told
himself he shouldn’t feel bad for Harry hurting himself. He reasoned that he
didn’t care about Harry anymore, but even he knew that was a fucking lie.
His heart actually hurt when he read Harry’s words in that familiar
handwriting that is mostly capitalized letters. Everytime he closes his eyes,
he sees them. It’s the most Louis has felt in months, and he was quickly
able to identify the feeling of concern, the deep nausea that comes with the
idea of someone you care about hurting themselves. Louis felt it in his
bones.
So yes, Louis can tell himself that he doesn't care about Harry’s well-being
at all, and that Harry is Satan himself however his heart doesn’t seem to
want to listen. If Harry were evil, and sent to Louis by the Devil to tempt
him, then why would Harry want to take his own life over Louis leaving
him? Wouldn’t he think that it was a job well done, pushing Louis to the
point of feeling the need to flee from him? The confusion hasn’t gotten
much better. Louis thought that if he continued to ignore Harry, that maybe,
just maybe, he would be able to work everything out in his head. That if he
showed God he could resist Harry’s temptations, perhaps the all-powerful
being would make his path clearer. It hasn’t though. Louis still feels as
though he is in a fog; he can’t see his hand in front of him. He can’t see
Harry, but he can hear him. He can’t decide if that is too much or not
enough.
“Louis, are you alright?” Liam’s voice breaks into Louis’ subconscious.
Holy shit. How long was he lost in his own head? He has been doing that a
lot lately. Louis thinks he spends more time feeling lost than actually doing
anything else. He has been able to keep up with his school work, though,
finding it helps if he focuses on something else. He likes his classes and
finds them challenging, but he just kind of wishes he could study with
Harry again. He loved the way Harry explained things that Louis didn’t
understand. He pushes that thought to the side, along with all other Harry
thoughts because, no. He blinks a few times, taking the cylinder from
Liam’s hands.
“Yeah. ‘M fine,” Louis lies, pretending to find the potassium nitrate

particularly interesting. It’s not. It is just a white powder, almost like flour.
For some strange reason, that makes Louis recall Harry’s black t-shirt on his
birthday, covered in flour from baking Louis a birthday cake. Was that the
work of the Devil? Adam says that the Devil works in strange ways, but he
also said the same thing about God. Adam’s voice is slowly becoming a
distant memory, the deep timber of Harry’s replacing it. Louis doesn’t know
if that is a good thing or a bad thing. He was sure in his decision to give his
life to God and convincing himself that Harry was evil, but then he
remembers all of the lovely things Harry has done and all of the bad things
Mark did in return. Which one is evil? He pushes that thought to the side,
adding water to the potassium nitrate, placing it in a boiling water bath.
“So have you thought anymore about dinner with us tomorrow?” Liam
asks, his tone hesitant but hopeful. That gets Louis to snap out of it
completely. His head whips around, finding Liam, who has begun stirring
the potassium nitrate into the water. Louis glances down to their workbook
to read the next step, trying to decide how he is going to answer his friend
because he hasn’t really thought about it. His mind has been too
preoccupied with what Harry had told him about the tattoo etched into his
alabaster skin and his own questions of God and the Devil. He had almost
forgotten about the invitation completely.
“I don’t know,” he finally responds with a sigh. He hasn’t spoken to Harry
anymore despite the fact that they have had two more classes together since
then, one being just this morning. He hasn’t exactly been ignoring him
either. He feels bad because he knows he should, he is just so drawn to
Harry. He always has been, but that is what got him into trouble in the first
place. He doesn’t look at Liam, just watches tiny bubbles begin to form in
the water bath as it quickly begins to boil. Within the bubble, the image of a
belligerent Harry forms, cutting into his own skin, blood trickling down to
land on the carpet of the dirty room. Harry looking so small and broken as
he cries and asks some unknown person why Louis would leave him. Louis’
eyes sting and prickle with tears behind his protective goggles. Were those
the actions of the Devil?
“Why won’t you come with us?” Liam asks, removing the cylinder from the
water bath, stirring it slowly with a thermometer as he waits for it to cool,
and for Louis to answer his question. Louis shakes his head, the picture in
front of his eyes evaporating like water currently boiling in front of him. He
turns his attention back to Liam and his question. It’s the first time Liam has
broached the subject of Harry, but Louis knew it was coming. They can’t
just talk about the weather or church for the rest of their lives. Liam doesn’t
even go to the same church as Louis anymore, and Louis wonders if Harry
has gotten to him too. Liam claims to still believe in God though, so that’s
something at least.
“You know why,” Louis responds, glancing over at Liam. When Liam gives
him a look, Louis sighs and continues, “I can’t be around Harry.” Louis
doesn’t mean for it to come out as sad and detached as it does. He clears his
throat, grabbing his pencil and jotting down the temperature of their
solution when the crystals first begin to appear as well as the volume. It
gives him something to do, something to keep his mind away from the
images of Harry drunk and alone with a knife. Distracts him from the sick
feeling in the pit of his stomach at the idea of causing Harry that kind of
pain again. Adam would tell him to harden his heart to Harry. He would say
that it was good Harry wanted to end his life over this, another evil person
gone from the world, but Louis can’t bring himself to believe that. Maybe
he would tell Louis that Harry was lying about it to gain sympathy, but
Louis really didn’t believe Harry was lying.
“Why can’t you be around Harry?” Liam asks, adding more water to the
solution and placing it back into the water bath for it to dissolve. As they
wait, he fixes Louis with a curious stare. Louis almost feels as though it is
boring into him, his dark eyes finding all of his secrets. Louis resists the
urge to squirm. He is itching for another cigarette, although he just smoked
one on his way here. They have been his only saving grace. He knows God
wouldn’t want him to put a harmful chemical in his body, but they help with
his stress. Help him calm the anxiety he has about leaving the house.
Strangely enough, they help him breathe under the crushing guilt that has
consumed him.
“He is temptation. He is everything I’m not supposed to be. I can’t let him
in again.” There is almost a begging quality to Louis’ voice as he says it,
and he knows how crazy he sounds. If he had heard those words from
someone else a few months ago, he would have told them just how crazy
they were. He even said something similar to Tara, explaining that love is
love. He doesn’t believe that anymore, and feels guilty for influencing her
decision, setting her on the path to Hell. How many innocent people has he
damned for his choice? How many souls are going to be tortured in Hell
because Louis thought it was okay to love Harry?
“If you are that solid in your faith, then one dinner won’t hurt anything. We
miss hanging out with you. If the camp worked, and you really are straight
then why does it matter if Harry is there or not? Harry is the one that will
pay for his sins, not you,” Liam reasons, taking the cylinder away from the
heat, allowing it to cool again. Liam’s response throws Louis for a loop
though, his head spinning. What the fuck? Liam has a great point. Louis
will always be around sinners, the only problem is that he doesn't know if
the camp worked. He thought it did, but everytime he sees Harry he isn't so
sure. He still has dreams about Harry, waking up to throw himself in the
coldest shower he can stand as punishment. His heart feels like it skips a
beat every single time Louis hears his name, even if it is just from his mom
in passing. Louis is solid in his faith. He is solid in his decision, so Liam is
right. Maybe one dinner with Harry won’t hurt. Niall and Liam will be there
as well, so it’s not as if he will be having dinner with Harry alone.
“Fine. One dinner. That’s all,” Louis gives in, the temptation too great.
Maybe it will further show God that Louis is serious about this. Maybe then
God will see that Louis is strong and will heal him from his urges. Heal him
from this crippling disease. God might be throwing Harry in his face to
tempt him, and this may show Him that Louis will not be tempted. His
mom has been nagging him to get out of the house, to do something other
than go to school. This will at least placate her if nothing else. How much
could change in one dinner?
___________
Louis takes a deep breath, looking up at the diner sign forlornly. He feels
like he is walking into his execution. It’s just dinner, though. That’s what he
has been telling himself at least, leaving out the ‘with Harry’ part in his
head. It makes things easier. He takes one last drag of his cigarette, letting
the smoke fill his lungs, releasing it on a sigh. He can do this. He can show
God that he can be around Harry and not be tempted. Adam said to remove
the temptation, but that hasn’t been working, so he is just going to use a
different approach. He looks up at the sky, trying to find God among the
clouds. He sees nothing, but that doesn't mean God isn’t watching him. He
silently prays this is what the silent being wants.
He puts his cigarette out, throwing the remains in a nearby ashtray, then
walks inside, quickly spotting Niall and Liam. When the person with curly
hair sitting across from them turns, Louis’ heart drops. Harry looks lovely
and so very happy, smiling at Louis as he enters. Louis returns it before he
can think to do otherwise, the habit of encouraging Harry’s happiness with
his own too difficult to break. Louis slowly walks over to them, his smile
fading as he realizes that the only spot left in the small booth is next to
Harry. He tries to get Liam’s attention to ask him to switch places, but Liam
is very engrossed in his menu it seems, although he always orders the same
thing. Fuck.
“Louis! Have a seat,” Harry greets, patting the leather cushion beside him
with a wicked smirk. Louis looks down at it, as if it is some sort of gate to
the seventh level of Hell. It basically is though. Lous is totally not being
dramatic, at all. Louis glares at the seat, as if it will just disappear under his
gaze. It doesn’t. He briefly considers just turning around and leaving, but he
is already here. He may as well prove to Harry that he can be around him
and not want to fuck him. That’s what Liam said right? Maybe if he can do
this, then Harry will stop whatever it is he is doing. He isn’t doing anything,
though. He is just existing, and Louis wants to throw himself on his dick
like a ring toss game at a carnival. He shakes his head, clearing that image,
and slides into the seat beside Harry.
He immediately notices a familiar warmth radiating off of Harry’s body,

warming Louis to the bones, more than the sun ever could. He wants to lean
into it, almost does, but he stops himself. Harry is sitting casually in the
booth, his long limbs folded under the table, but Louis keeps a tension in
his. He can’t let himself relax too much, or he will fall into his old habits,
like leaning into Harry’s side as Harry places an arm around him and a hand
on his knee. No. Louis needs to resist. The point of this whole thing is to
prove to himself, and to God, once and for all that he can combat these
feelings. He takes a moment to drink in Harry’s appearance, usually not
allowing himself to.
He is wearing a black band t-shirt and black skinny jeans, so not much
different than anything he wore a year ago, however, he is wearing a scarf
to hold back his curls. It is black with white skulls, and Louis’ fingers itch
to touch it. It looks like it would be soft and silky, very pretty. He just wants
to touch Harry’s dark curls in general. They are getting so long and full, like
those fancy rings of chocolate a baker will place on the top of far too
expensive cakes. He balls his hands into fists to stop himself from running
his fingers through to see if they will maintain their shape. It would be a
science experiment really. So if he did it, it would be for science, right? He
would be studying the tenacity of a spring system when faced with friction
and force. It’s all very science-like, which Louis isn’t really supposed to
believe in.
The waitress interrupts Louis’ train of thought, thank God, asking to take
their orders. They all order the same thing that they always did when they
ate there before. Liam and Louis a burger of some sort, Niall a pulled pork
sandwich because ‘they make the best barbecue this side of the Mason
Dixon Line’, and Harry one of their various salads, this time chicken. They
all fall into an awkward silence after that, Harry’s leg jogging under the
table, causing their entire bench to bounce. Louis balls his hands into fists
to stop himself from reaching out to calm it, his hand itching to do it. He
hates seeing Harry nervous. He is so attuned to him at this point, Harry’s
feelings becoming his own in some ways. Liam is the first to break the
silence, the tension still palpable, even in his voice, “How did you all do on
the first Psychology quiz?”
“I thought I did well, but it turns out I got a ‘C’,” Niall responds, his voice
exasperated as his forehead hits the table. Liam pats him on the back in
sympathy, and Louis almost smiles at his dramatics. Almost.
“I got a B. Not too happy, but I figure I know what to expect on the next
one,” Liam adds with a shrug, always looking on the bright side of things.
Niall looks up from his misery to glare at Liam. Louis does smile this time.
He has missed this. He has missed his friends, hanging out with them,
talking about mundane things. He missed Niall’s sense of humor, and
Liam’s honesty. Watching the exchange, Louis almost forgets that he has to
watch his words, thoughts, and actions. It just feels like old times, four best
friends hanging out and eating dinner after school, talking about anything
and everything.
“I got a B, too. I bet Hazza got an A ‘cause he’s a nerd,” Louis says,
glancing over at Harry before he even realizes his mistake. Fuck. Why did
he say that? Why can’t he think before he speaks, like Harry? Why did he
have to open his big mouth, letting something so friendly slip out? He can’t
be friends with Harry. Not with their history, and not with Harry’s sin. He
can’t allow Harry to influence him again, but it’s already out there. Harry’s
cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink with the comment. Louis hates himself
for wanting to bring that tint to his cheeks for a different reason. He has
seen Harry Styles fucked out and blissed, and there isn’t much else running
through his head at the current moment. Thoughts won’t hurt anything,
right? It’s actions that count.
“Damn straight I got an A,” Harry confirms with a smirk, and Louis is very
surprised by that response, his eyebrows shooting into his hairline. It almost
seems flirtatious, and Louis can feel the panic rising in his chest. He can’t
deal with a flirty Harry. He had almost forgotten how confident and teasing
Harry had been before the summer began, but a shiver goes down Louis’
spine now that he is remembering. Harry’s words in the shower the day of
Anne’s wedding. Jesus isn’t here, love. I think you’re mistaken. Perhaps you
should worship this instead. Louis’ dick is beginning to fatten in his jeans,
he squirms uncomfortably, attempting to adjust himself without touching.
He tries to recall what Adam had said about that during therapy. He said
that Louis should be ashamed of Harry’s words turning him on. That Harry
was just saying those things to be manipulative, and at the time, Louis kind
of believed him. It’s strange how perspective works, and how easy it is to
be susceptible to things when he had a certain mindset. Then again, it could
be argued that the situation he is in now, sitting next to Harry, is working
against him. He just doesn’t know which is correct anymore, which is the
one he truly believes or the one that was put there by others. The confusion
is exhausting, making him feel sick to his stomach. He wants to cry again.
He wants to go home, and lay in his dark room, alone, allowing his mind to
be swallowed whole by foggy disarray.
“Oh Lou! I forgot to mention,” Niall suddenly exclaims, snapping Louis out
his thoughts so quickly, Louis fears he broke his fucking neck. That would
be a fate better than this confusion though. He allows his eyes focus on
Niall, his smile wide, his straight, white, braceless teeth gleaming in the
light. Louis ignores Harry, well tries to, as he looks at Niall, sipping his
soda through his straw. He waits for Niall to continue whatever thought he
had that almost paralyzed Louis. “I’m having a birthday party next
weekend! Just a small get together at my house. The three of us as well as
Ash, Luke, Will and Tara. It’ll be fun. You should come.”
Louis feels like he stops breathing at the mention of Ashton’s name. He

knows that Ashton is living with Harry. His mom told him as much. He
hasn’t heard it in so long, not since his mom told him that Ashton moved in
with Harry. Louis doesn’t want to think about that though. The thing is, he
misses Ashton a lot. They didn’t know each other for very long, but they
were each other’s rocks during a traumatic time that brought them closer.
He almost wants to see Ashton just so he can tell him that he saw the
wrongness of their ways, maybe convince him that his lifestyle is sinful.
Ashton went halfway through their therapy, he has to be easier to convince
than Harry.
“Umm. I don’t know,” Louis starts, the answer coming out weak even
though he wanted to put a strength behind his tone, like he is sure. He
doesn’t plan to go, though, because that would mean more moments alone
with Harry. Well they won’t be alone, right? There will be others there.
Louis would probably be able to ignore him completely. When he sees their
disappointed faces, he finds himself adding, “I’ll think about it.” A shocked
silence settles over the table because they must have been expecting an
outright rejection like the first time, each boy giving him a different look in
varying degrees of astonishment. Niall’s mouth is open in a small ‘o’ while
Liam’s eyes are wide, dark eyebrows hitting his hairline. Louis can’t stop
his eyes from looking at Harry, who is just smiling brightly, dimples
popping, making Louis’ battered heart skip a beat or three.
“Awesome. Can’t wait.” Niall smiles widely, causing Liam snap out of it as
well. Louis doesn't know what else he was planning to say after that
because they are interrupted by the waitress sitting their food down in front
of them. A comfortable silence falls over the table as they all begin to eat
what they ordered, but Louis can’t really get comfortable, not with Harry
pressed up against his side. He is on the edge of the booth, but Harry seems
to keep moving closer. They are now touching from hip to knee, Louis
feeling it every single time Harry makes even the smallest movement.
Harry seems relaxed though, his foot no longer jogging under the table.
“Why don’t you want to see Ashton? He misses you,” Harry says keeping
his voice quiet, after Niall and Liam launch into a discussion about the
football team. Louis would have participated at one point, but he refuses to
now. He can’t be anywhere near football either, can’t be anywhere near his
old life. Louis freezes at the question, a french fry still poised in his hand.
He wasn’t expecting it, nor was he expecting Harry to tell him that Ashton
misses him. The question sounded curious, and Louis doesn’t really know
how to react. Ashton misses him? How does Harry know that? Do they talk
a lot? Are the close? How close are they? Louis feels sick, the fry between
his fingers looking about as appetizing as a slice of avocado, which is just
gross.
“Talk to him that much, do ya?” Louis asks, his tone biting. He knows it’s
unfair. The unfamiliar jealous sting stabs at his intestines again and again.
He tries not to think about their budding relationship, how much they have
in common. He doesn't think Ashton would do that to him, but he doesn't
know for sure. Ashton could be mad at Louis for refusing to see him and
using this as a form of revenge. Louis certainly hasn’t given Harry any
indication that he wants to pick up where they left off, so Harry is free to do
as he pleases, always has been considering they were never official.
However, that doesn’t stop the sick feeling from rising in Louis stomach
with the knowledge that Ashton lives with Harry. They talk. They share
secrets. What if Ashton told Harry what they went through at camp. Oh
god.
“Yeah. We talk a lot. Why? Are you jealous?” Harry asks, nudging Louis’
arm with his elbow. Louis can feel his face getting red, almost as though he
has been caught. He bites into his french fry with a little more force than
necessary for such a soft substance, chewing quickly. It taste like cardboard
on his tongue, dry and unappetizing. Harry’s eyes light up like a fucking
Christmas tree, his smile so wide that Louis kind of wants to die, or maybe
he wants to live again. He isn’t sure at this point. “You are!” Harry’s grin is
wider now, his dimples so deep Louis wants to drown himself in them. At
least the water will cool his face down which is hotter somehow with the
accusation.
“Am not,” Louis insists, eating another fry to give his hands something to
do, as he watches Harry take a sip of his drink, his red lips wrapping around
the straw, sucking the liquid into his mouth. Louis knows what those lips
feel like wrapped around his dick, doing much the same thing, and Louis
almost moans. Fuck. He feels like he is on a fucking roller coaster going
from jealous, to embarrassed, to horny in exactly three point seven seconds.
This is too hard. He can’t do this. He can’t sit here and allow his mind to
wander, to remember what things were like with Harry. How good they
were. He needs to remember camp. He needs to remember therapy. He
needs to remember that he gave his life to God in the end, and he believes
in God and his healing power. He does.
“Then why do you look like the cutest grumpy hedgehog in existence that
may or may not have eaten something sour?” Harry asks, his chuckle
making Louis’ body shake. It sounds like music to Louis’ ears; he could
almost dance to it because he fucking missed it. He feels like he is in a tug-
of-war with himself, one that doesn’t allow for an actual winner. Louis
allows his mouth to open in fake offence, his cheeks heating again with the
comment, making Harry laugh harder. Louis, in complete retaliation, throws
a french fry at Harry's face, bouncing it off his nose, cheering in triumph.
They are flirting. Louis knows it’s happening, he just can’t seem to stop it.
He quickly brings in hands to his sides, looking away while he silently
berates himself again.
“Just so you know, nothing is going on between me and Ash. I think of him
like a brother. He is with Luke, and they are happy. He usually spends the
whole weekend at Luke’s house, or Luke will come visit us. I only have
eyes for one boy, even though he looks like a grumpy hedgehog when he is
jealous,” Harry whispers, his tone serious despite the final sentence being
somewhat flirtatious. Louis hates himself for wanting to sigh in relief. He
hates his body for relaxing at Harry’s words, his fears soothed a little. He
didn’t actually think Ashton would go after Harry, but the fear was still
there. He tells himself that doesn’t care if Harry’s answer would have been
in the affirmative. He doesn’t.
“I don’t care,” Louis voices out loud, going for nonchalant but completely
missing the mark. Harry looks hurt for a split second before he covers it
quickly, his features morphing into that damn smirk that is Louis’
weakness. Harry is Louis’ weakness, his downfall, the reason why Louis
will be cast of Heaven. He suddenly remembers something Adam said
about Harry for this exact scenario, the words coming out before Louis can
even think to stop them. “You’re Judas.”
“Judas as in Jesus’ disciple?” Harry asks, his brows knitting together in

confusion. Louis nods his head once, taking a sip of his drink to give him
something to do. Something other than looking at Harry’s face, watching
his brain work. Louis used to love it, now he can’t stand it because he still
kind of loves it. He just… he’s not allowed to love Harry. He is not allowed
to love anything about the man. “How do you figure?” Louis is shocked by
the question. He thought Harry would go into a long winded explanation as
to why he isn’t anything like Judas, but that’s not Harry at all. Harry has
never gone straight into it, he always asks questions. Is that something
someone would do if they were trying to manipulate him? Louis isn’t sure.
“Just like Judas was Jesus’ downfall, you are mine. That is, if I hadn’t gone
to the camp,” Louis responds, feeling proud that he said it to Harry. It needs
to be known, though. The statement out into the world for everyone who is
listening to hear. Harry is the only one listening, though. He needs to show
Harry that he doesn’t have a chance in changing Louis’ mind, even though
there is a very small voice in his head that is calling him a liar for that.
Louis ignores that bastard. That stupid thing was the reason he went to the
camp in the first place. It was the reason he was tortured, even though it
was for the greater good of his soul. Fuck. There is the confusion again. He
hates the camp, but he knows he shouldn’t because the camp saved him.
“Wasn’t Judas necessary though? Like wasn’t he the good guy?” Harry
asks, and what? How could Judas be a good guy? He turned Jesus over to
the Romans for them to torture and crucify him. There is just no other way
to look at it. He was evil. He let the Devil get to him, and his own greed
consume him. What the fuck was Harry on to believe otherwise? Maybe
Adam is right. Maybe Harry is the Devil is disguise because only Satan
himself could see Judas as a good guy in the story. To the Devil, he would
be.
“No.” Louis’ answer is sure, resolute. Harry doesn’t look shocked though,
just calculating. Louis knows that look. It turns him on a tiny bit, the
familiar pull of heat behind his navel making him want to squirm. He takes
a deep breath, silently reminding himself that he doesn’t find Harry
attractive because it’s wrong. He also doesn’t find women attractive, but he
could fake that, right? He has before. The thought of kissing a girl makes
him cringe, though, but he will have to figure it out. One step at a time.
Right now he needs to concentrate on minimizing his attraction to Harry.
Once that step is done, then he can figure out how to be attracted to girls. It
shouldn’t be that difficult, right? It is natural, isn’t it?
“If it wasn’t for him, then Jesus wouldn’t have sacrificed himself for your
sin. What Judas did needed to happen for the greater good of humanity.
Yeah, you could say that he was responsible for Jesus’ downfall, but was it
really his downfall? He went to Heaven after that, so it really wasn’t all that
bad. Didn’t it need to happen for Christianity to take root, for your sins to
be forgiven? Didn’t God have it planned?” Harry asks, and Louis almost
chokes on his drink. What the actual fuck? He has never thought about it
that way. Judas was needed. Jesus did need to be sacrificed. Christianity
wouldn’t be anything without that sacrifice. Holy fucking shit. Louis’ head
is spinning. He needs something to hold on to.
“He still betrayed him,” Louis insists, crossing his arms over his chest to
protect himself. He tries not to show it, but the confusion feels like it is
strangling him. His world has been turned upside down to the point that it
all looks organized again, only to be turned over once more. The only issue
is, Louis doesn’t know which way is correct. What his world should look
like anymore. He doesn’t know if the first world was correct where God
wasn’t real, and it was okay to love Harry. Or if the second world is correct,
where Harry is evil, God is real, and Judas was a traitor.
“Not according to the Gospel of Judas. Yes, it is another one of those pesky
texts the church just so happened to leave out of the Bible. According to its
accounts, Judas was Jesus’ closest friend, and he was only acting on orders
from Jesus to betray him. Jesus told him to do so.” What? No. That can’t be
right. Can it? Harry has been nothing but honest to him for as long as he has
known him. Why would Harry lie? To manipulate Louis into falling for him
again? That doesn’t make any sense though because then why didn’t he lie
the first time. He started telling Louis these things about religion to push
him away, but it only brought them closer. Harry has never lied. Can Louis
say the same thing about Adam and the others? Were they honest with him?
“What about my sisters?” Louis asks, on a breath. Judas wasn’t evil. Judas
didn’t betray Jesus? He knows that Harry probably won’t see the
connection to his sisters, but Louis does. It all happened in the same therapy
session then many to follow after that, as if they wanted to keep repeating it
over and over until Louis believed it. Harry has never done that though. He
has only told Louis things once, then allowed Louis ask follow up questions
later. Harry had never punished him for asking questions like Adam had
done. No. In fact, Harry always seemed proud of him for doing so.
“What about them?” Harry asks, his tone curious once more as he takes a
bite of his salad, tongue coming out to greet the vegetables first before he
shoves the fork into his wide mouth. Louis is more turned on by that then
he cares to admit, his mind flashing to Harry as he opens his mouth to be
fed Louis’ dick, his tongue coming out first in much the same way. Louis
doesn’t know how his thoughts can be in so many places, but his head is
fucking spinning. Harry asked him a question. Concentrate. His sisters.
What about them? When he remembers Adam’s words, it feels like he stops
breathing, the guilt from his thoughts about Harry not even one point three
seconds ago gripping his heart.
“They will go to Hell because of me. I’m a bad influence. They will be
tortured because of my actions,” Louis whispers, remembering the words
that still haunt him. He blinks back tears, looking up to find Harry’s green
eyes sad. He is shaking his head though, his curls bouncing with it. Why is
he shaking his head? It’s true. What Adam said was true. His sisters will go
to hell because of him. They will be tortured and raped by demons because
of the example he has lead. Adam said that to him dozens of times, the
words seared into his brain.
“Louis, we have discussed sin before. There are many things that they do
now that the Bible considers a sin. They are going to sin on their own with
or without your influence. The Bible says they are responsible for their own
souls,” Harry points out, and he’s right. They are surrounded by sin every
day, not just from Louis. He still should stay away from them, though, until
he is completely healed. He can’t have the fate of their souls resting on his
shoulders. He needs to stay away from them until he can lead by example,
but wouldn’t that mean wearing clothes of the same fabric? Wouldn’t that
mean not eating pork? Wouldn’t that mean never using birth control or
protection? He would want them to do those things.
“They would be tortured. Even if it wasn’t all because of me, shouldn’t I do

everything I can to save them?” Louis asks, desperately, searching Harry’s
features for any kind support. Maybe he is begging him for a rebuttal of
some sort. Louis has no idea. He is just so confused. All he can hear is
Adam’s voice. He wants to hit his temple until it stops, until everything
stops, and he can breathe again. Something has to shake it loose. It needs to
be there, though. It needs to remind him that what he is is wrong. He is
disgraceful. He is a sinner. So no, Louis shouldn't hit his head repeatedly to
shake it loose. He needs to keep it there, even if it leads to confusion.
“What if Satan isn’t evil? The only person that says Satan is bad is God.
How do we know Satan isn't the good one and God the evil one? Satan
seems far more forgivinging and lenient. Maybe we are fighting a battle to
into Heaven that is really just Hell in disguise. We only get one side of the
story. God could have fixed the narrative to look like he was the good guy.
It’s interesting that you are so sure Hell is a bad place even though it is full
of good people who either never believed in God or never knew to believe
in your God,” Harry says, and Louis doesn’t even know how to respond.
There is so much force in that one simple statement, Louis feels as though
he has been punched in the gut, all of his breath leaving him at once with a
‘woosh’. The last sentence is what gets Louis. People who never knew to
believe in his God. He never thought of that. How is it fair that people are
sentenced to eternal damnation for not believing in something that was
never introduced to them?
“Who you are isn’t bad, though,” Harry continues as if he didn’t just blow
Louis’ mind. As if he isn’t using his big hand to turn Louis’ world again.
“What you want, and who you love isn’t bad. Did you forget all of our
conversations on sin and free will? Did you forget everything we shared?
What it meant?” Harry’s eyes are shiny with tears, and Louis can’t do this.
He can’t look at Harry. Harry said love. Does he love Louis? Does Louis
love him, even though it’s wrong? Is it so wrong that Harry makes him a
stronger person? Louis starts shaking his head, his whole body shuddering
with his thoughts. He feels like he is suffocating. Like the walls are closing
in, and he needs to get out.
“I can’t do this.” Louis’ voice is shaky, quivering so much the words are
barely understandable. Louis gets up from the table quickly, his legs barely
allowing him to stand. He needs to get out. Harry looks like he is about to
protest, but Louis quickly looks away. Harry makes him weak. Or does he
make him strong? Fuck Louis doesn’t know. He needs to get out. He needs
to get away from the press of Harry’s body, his easy smile. He needs to run
from Harry’s words, the voice in his brain that now sounds like Harry’s
again as it pushes Adam’s out slowly. He needs to fucking leave, so without
any kind of reasurance to Harry that he isn’t upset, because he is, Louis runs
out of the resturant, lighting a cigarette as soon as he is out the door.
Chapter End Notes
Here is an article about the Gospel of Judas mentioned in this chapter.
It's real.

All That I'm Living For
Chapter Summary
After talking to his mom, Louis decides to attend Niall's party.

Chapter Notes
Nearing the end guys! I hope you love this chapter as much as I do!

I believe that dreams are sacred
Take my darkest fears and play them
Like a lullaby
Like a reason why
Like a play of my obsessions
Make me understand the lesson
So I'll find myself
So I won't be lost again- Evanescence
“I don’t think I should do this, Mom,” Louis says, pacing the room to keep
from hyperventilating. He has a craving deep in his bones for a cigarette,
but his mom doesn’t know of his new habit. Well she might, but she hasn’t
mentioned it yet. Instead of grabbing his pack and running out the door, he
begins to chew on his fingernails, looking at his mom, desperate for some
kind of help. Her blue eyes are kind as they track his jittery movements.
“Oh Boobear, I know it’s hard, but you said yourself that you would like to
see Ash,” she points out, her voice calm, but it does nothing to soothe him.
He feels like he is about to jump out of his skin, his stomach in knots. His
mind hasn’t stopped whirring since the disastrous dinner with Harry and the
others. He has been feeling more confused than ever which resulted in him
ignoring Harry for the entire week, but now it is time for the party that he
was invited too. His mom is right; he does very much want to see Ashton.
Mostly he just wants to make sure he is okay because he hasn’t been able to
convince himself otherwise.
The last time he laid eyes on him, he was skinny and broken, crying in the
middle of a dark, unforgiving forest and begging Louis to come with him.
Louis couldn’t though. They would have both been caught, and Louis
wanted to get Ashton out of there no matter the cost. Now, he is torn on
whether he made the right choice. At the time, the decision seemed sound,
but now Louis worries that he has damned Ashton’s soul. That fact is
weighing heavily on him. If Ashton had stayed there though, he would have
been subjected to more torture, but what if it had worked . Did he ruin
Ashton’s chances of getting into Heaven by ‘rescuing’ him from the people
that were trying to save him? Louis has always had Ashton’s best interests
at heart, but did he really make the right decision that night? Did he actually
save Ashton? Or did he just further condemn him to the fires of Hell?
Memories from the night resurface, the moon lighting their path to freedom
as it shone down upon Ashton’s skin. The tears streaking down his face as
he begged Louis to come with him and risk it. His long fingers digging into
Louis’ arm with his pleas, creating marks that would later be replaced by
larger bruises inflicted by the camp counselors. Ashton’s nasally voice
cracking, barely able to be heard despite the deathly quiet of the forest
around them. He remembers his own voice breaking as he sang ‘Happy
Birthday’ to Ashton as the younger man sobbed into his shoulder. He did
the right thing, didn’t he? He was right to get Ashton out of there. It felt
right at the time, but Dr. Thompson told him it was wrong, over and over
again, after he was captured. He also told him that Ashton could have gone
to Hell and be tortured because of Louis’ ‘sacrifice’. The way he worded it
made Louis believe that there was a possibility that Asthon didn’t make it
out.
“Louis, come back to me.” His mom’s voice breaks through the memories,
tearing them apart like paper. Louis blinks rapidly for a few seconds, the
vision of Ashton’s face, illuminated by the pale moonlight with the forest
serving as a backdrop, slowly fades as his room comes back into focus.
Louis hadn’t realized he’d stopped moving, stopped breathing, nor did he
notice that he began crying, but there are now hot tears streaming down his
face. He finds his mom’s eyes. She looks worried about him, and he doesn’t
blame her. He feels like he is losing his damn mind. His own memories
haunt him. Memories of the camp. Memories of his actions before the
camp, with Harry. He doesn't know which are worse. The ones of him being
tortured by people who were supposedly trying to save his soul or the ones
with a boy he’s not supposed to love. Both cut him down to his core,
making him feel as though he can’t take a breath.
“Sorry,” Louis mummers, still feeling disoriented as he begins to pace the

room again, hoping the physical movement will somehow calm his racing
mind. It doesn't. Louis thinks he is going to vomit, his body, including his
stomach, feeling as though it is being drawn, being pulled in two different
directions. One towards Harry, Ashton, and their friends. Towards
happiness and freedom and everything Louis thought he lost, but the other
directed towards God, a higher power and his salvation. Towards Heaven
and seeing his mom and sisters again, even after he dies. To spend forever
with them in paradise, maybe sooner rather than later, because he feels as
though his body is being ripped apart, the flesh soon to give out, the two
halves bursting into a bloody mess.
“I think you should go. It will be good for you,” Jay insists, sitting up
straighter in the desk chair she is currently occupying. Louis isn’t sure he
agrees with her statement. He still feels like distancing himself from Harry
is the only way, but obviously God thinks otherwise since that doesn’t seem
to be working. He couldn’t even make it through dinner without Harry
forcing him to second guess everything. God is probably incredibly
disappointed in Louis for that, and Louis is almost disappointed in himself.
He should be able to resist Harry. A good Christian could, but Harry makes
a valid argument. Harry makes him rethink everything. He always has.
“Harry will be there,” Louis responds, as if that is the only reason he needs
not to attend, the only reason he needs to solidify his decision, but it
solidifies nothing. As much as he wants to distance himself from the
younger boy, the need to be close to him is just as strong. It’s as if his heart
and his brain want two different things. His brain is arguing that God is
love, while his heart is beating only for Harry. His heart isn't confused
though. It is sure that it wants Harry, while his brain in a constant state of
turmoil.
“You’ve said as much, but I don’t see the problem. You say you don’t want
him anymore. That you aren’t attracted to him, so what does it matter if he
is there? He is Niall’s best friend, so of course he will be hanging out with
him. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t, though,” she reasons, and it sounds
eerily similar to the argument Liam used almost two weeks ago to talk him
into dinner. He knows they both have a point, and he wants to see Harry. He
feels like his soul is being pulled toward him by some kind of unstoppable
force, but Louis needs to fight it. Maybe he should take this as another test
from God. Maybe if he can actually manage to pass this one, then God will
finally heal him.
“What if they are drinking?” Louis asks, hoping that will change his mom’s
mind. She may have backslid from the church, but she has to still be against
alcohol right? It’s against the Bible, but then again, so is divorce, and that
isn’t stopping her. Mark decided against a trial and plead guilty to counts of
assault and battery, domestic abuse, and kidnapping. They were told only
last week that he will be spending the next 20 to 25 years in jail thanks to
Louis, and Louis isn’t sure how he is going to deal with the guilt. He took
his sister’s father away from them. How could he do that? The camp leaders
are still awaiting trial. It keeps getting pushed back, but Louis isn’t looking
forward to it. They want him to testify against them, and Louis isn’t sure if
he can do that. They helped him, didn’t they?
“Louis, I think God will forgive you for drinking a beer or two. I drank a
glass of wine just last night. Hell, Jesus drank wine all the time. It’s fine;
I’m sure,” Jay responds, her hands gesturing with the words. Louis bites his
lip in thought. She’s right; Jesus did drink wine. He turned water into wine
at one point, so maybe a little alcohol isn’t the worst thing. It could also
help Louis relax a bit, but then he remembers Harry’s story behind his new
tattoo.
His heart hurts every time he thinks about it, what Harry must have gone
through. He tries to push it away, pretending it doesn't bother him, but it
does. Harry almost ended his life because of him. Harry was quick to point
out that it was really Mark’s fault, not Louis’, but that doesn’t stop the tears
from coming to Louis’ eyes. He understand Harry’s desperation now. He
understands that desire and the overwhelming hopelessness that comes
along with that. He has wanted to do the same thing on more than one
occasion over the past few months, thinking that ending it all would be so
much simpler, but then he remembers it’s a one way ticket to Hell. Then
again, if he doesn’t learn to control his unholy urges, that if God doesn’t
heal him from his disease, then he will be going to Hell anyway, so what is
really the point?
“I’ll be back in a few hours,” Louis says, coming to a decision then. He will
go there, tell Niall ‘Happy Birthday’, make sure Ashton is okay, hang out
for an hour or so, then leave. It will be simple. He can prove to God that he
can be around Harry without freaking the fuck out. He has been reading the
Bible more since their last conversation, so he thinks he is better equipped
for a discussion, if it comes to that. Louis hopes it doesn’t. He doesn’t need
anymore questions floating around in his head, cluttering it to the point that
it feels as though it is overflowing, words tumbling out of his ears only to
disappear into the fog that surrounds him.
He doesn’t give his mom a chance to respond before he is out of his

bedroom door and going down the stairs, not even bothering to change into
something nicer. His sisters don’t even try to get him to speak to them
anymore; they’ve given up. Phoebe and Daisy just look at him sadly, with
big blue eyes. They can’t possibly understand though; they are too young.
They can’t comprehend that Louis doing this for them. For their salvation
and entrance into Heaven. He opens the living room door, heading out into
the humid September air. He lights a cigarette as soon as he is outside,
inhaling the smoke deeply as he makes his way to the car.
The drive to Niall’s house is quick, but the cigarette between Louis’ fingers
does nothing to dispel the nervous anxiety clenching his gut in a death grip.
He only thinks about turning around seventy three times in the five minutes
it takes to get there, which is a new record for Louis. He sits in the car for a
few minutes, finishing his cigarette and looking at the house forlornly. He
thinks everyone is here, and that fact makes him even more nervous for
some reason. He takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart
and chase away the trepidation lingering in his stomach like the smoke in
the car.
He gets out before he loses his nerve, quickly making his way to the door
and ringing the bell with a shaking finger before he can change his mind
again. He hears voices behind it before it quickly opens, revealing Niall
with a beer in his hand. “Lou! I’m so glad you came! Wasn’t sure if it was
you or the Pizza. I guess it could have also been my mom coming back
because she forgot somethin’ on her way to work or my dad comin’ home
early from his work trip,” Niall rambles, obviously caught off guard by
Louis’ arrival. Louis tries to smile at him, but it probably comes out as
more a grimace as he awkwardly stands in the doorway. Niall’s blue eyes
go wide in understanding before he rushes out a quick apology, then steps
out of the way to usher Louis in. The cold air hits Louis’ immediately, his
body erupting in chillbumps as it cools his sweaty skin. He tries to take a
deep breath before turning the corner into the living room, greeted by three
pairs of surprised eyes.
Harry seems to be the first to snap out of it, always the best at hiding
emotions and reactions. He smiles at Louis, both dimples carved into his
cheeks, framing it in the most swoon-worthy way. Louis always
underestimates Harry’s ability to make his mouth go dry and his knees go
weak, but he needs to start preparing himself beforehand. He can’t swoon
when he sees him. Well internally maybe it’s alright. It’s not as though he is
acting on it. The rest of the group seem to snap out of simultaneously,
exclaiming greetings while wearing overly cheerful smiles. Louis hates how
happy he is to see Willow and Tara, his eyes finding them, after Harry of
course. He is always drawn to Harry first.
The room falls into an awkward silence after that, everyone looking at one
another as if waiting for someone to start a conversation. That’s been
happening to Louis a lot lately, and his stomach knots up tighter with each
passing moment. He looks around, finding that Ashton isn’t in the living
room. He must have not arrived yet, and Louis isn’t sure if he is upset or
relieved. On the one hand, he is glad he doesn’t have to confront Ashton
after all this time, but on the other, he kind of missed him. He won’t admit
that out loud and has barely admitted it to himself, but he does. Ashton is
the only reason why he came here today.
“Lou, come in and pop a squat. There are drinks in the kitchen. Do you
want me to go fetch you somethin’?” Niall asks, his boisterous voice
breaking the uncomfortable silence. Louis glances over at him, finding a
wide smile. Louis doesn't comment on his use of the word fetch, because,
even though Niall very much reminds Louis of an overly excited puppy, he
isn’t a fucking dog.
“Niall stop trying to make fetch happen, it’s not going to happen.” Harry’s
deep voice startles Louis’ for some reason, but that quickly turns to shock
due to the fact that Harry just referenced a teen romantic comedy. He didn’t
even know Harry had ever watched it. It’s not really the type of movie he
could see Harry viewing, but apparently, Louis is wrong because Harry just
quoted a very iconic line. Louis turns his head so fast, the world spins for a
brief moment before it rights itself to find Harry, winking at Louis. Louis
almost chokes.
“I didn’t know you watched that movie?” Louis says, his shock getting the
best of him. He has never been very good at keeping his mouth shut,
especially when he is caught off guard. That was more Harry’s specialty, so
the question is out before he can even begin to stop it. He wants to smack
himself on the forehead as punishment, but that would only make him look
crazy. He is crazy though, isn’t he? He sure feels like it most days, his
confusion making him feel as though he has lost the plot.
“Yeah. Watched it for the first time a week ago. A part of the family movie
night my mom established after our therapist suggested it,” Harry answers
with a shrug, and what? Harry goes to therapy? They have family movie
nights now? When did that happen? It then strikes Louis that, while he was
in camp, Harry’s life continued on without him. A lot could have happened
to Harry during that time. A lot sure as shit happened to Louis. What would
have prompted Harry to seek therapy, finally? Was it the night of
graduation? Louis bites his lip to keep himself from asking, telling himself
that he doesn't actually care. He can’t ignore the pride that fills his chest,
though, because he knows Harry. He knows it probably took a lot of
courage for him to go to therapy and talk about everything that happened to
him. Louis draws blood when he bites his lip again to keep his mouth from
spilling that pride, the metallic taste of the red substance replacing the
words on the tip of his tongue.
“And he’s been quoting the damn thing ever since,” Niall adds with a fond
smile, rolling his eyes. Harry just flips him off his response, his long ringed
fingers, tipped with black, makes Louis want to groan. Everything about
Harry turns Louis on, and it isn’t fair. Louis’ dick twitches in his jeans just
thinking about what he used to allow those long fingers to do to him. He
tries not to recall how they felt inside of him, pressing against his prostate
in the most pleasurable way. His face reddens with the memory. “Anyways,
you want a drink, Lou?”
“I-I’ll get it,” Louis stutters out, Niall’s question barely registering over
blood rushing from his ears to his fucking dick. That betrayer. He wipes his
sweaty palms down his jeans, and swallows before taking his eyes off
Harry. How they ended up on him is beyond Louis at this point, then he
makes a mad dash to the kitchen. He needs to get out of there. Get his head
straight, literally. He walks into the kitchen with his eyes cast down, trying
to concentrate on his breathing. In and out. No, not Harry’s dick going in
and out. Bad brain.
His head snaps up when he hears a startled squeak to find Ashton’s hazel
eyes on him, wide with astonishment, almost as if he is seeing a ghost.
Louis has felt like a ghost more than once in the past month, as if he is
living a half life. He lets the door shut behind him, freezing on the spot,
unsure what to do. He didn’t know Ashton would be in here. He almost
doesn’t recognize him without the hideous getup the camp made them wear.
Ashton is wearing a pair of black skinny jeans and a black band t-shirt with
the sleeves cut off. His sandy curls are held back by a red bandanna, tied
around his head. He has gained some weight since Louis last saw him. He
looks good. Healthy. And Louis finds that he is relieved.
“Louis I didn’t know you were here,” Ashton says, his voice breaking the
tense silence that has fallen over the room. It is then that Louis realizes
Ashton is standing between the legs of another boy wearing a similar outfit,
sans the bandanna. The boy is young, definitely younger than Louis, with
blond hair pulled away from his forehead. He has blue eyes and full lips
accentuated by a black lip ring on the left side. Ashton’s palms are on either
thigh where he is propped up on the counter, and it dawns on Louis that he
interrupted a make out session. Holy shit. They look cute and cozy, and
Louis almost wants to run away screaming.
“Yeah. I just got here,” Louis responds, his voice coming out as shaky as his
whole body currently feels. He walks a bit further into the kitchen, deciding
he is going to grab what he originally went into the kitchen to get, and then
leave them to it. He really didn’t mean to interrupt them. Well maybe God
wanted him to interrupt them because they were sinning. That had to be it,
so maybe he should try to stay in the in there or get them to come back out
into the living room. Yeah. He can probably do that, he just needs to keep
any conversation he has with Ashton from veering to the topic of the camp.
Piece of cake.
“Awesome,” Ashton responds, turning around to watch Louis make his way
to the fridge. He opens it up, finding water, beer and some stuff for mixed
drinks. He reaches for the water, but decides on the beer, remembering his
mom’s words. Maybe God won’t be too mad if he drinks one beer. He grabs
it, twisting off the top in one fluid movement before he turns back towards
the boys. Ashton looks unsure before the other boy taps him on the
shoulder. Ashton shakes his head, as if coming out of a memory before he
says, “Oh yeah. Louis, this is my boyfriend, Luke. Luke this is Louis, the
guy I’ve told you so much about.”
“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Louis says, but he already knew it was Luke
from the moment he noticed the boy with Ashton between his legs. Ashton
had described Luke to Louis in detail, from his blue eyes to his skinny
frame. Louis could have probably accurately described him to a sketch
artist. Luke allows his long legs to slide off the countertop, slowly dropping
onto the tiled floor, situating himself beside Ashton. He is about Harry’s
height already, so he will probably end up being taller than Harry even,
definitely taller than Louis.
“Yeah. Ash has told me so much about you,” Luke responds, extending his
hand. Louis looks at it for a few moments before he takes it, giving it a
couple of good shakes before he lets go. Another awkward silence falls on
the room. Something that seems to follow Louis around these days. Luke is
shuffling from one foot to the other, as if he is nervous to meet him. Louis
has no idea why though. What could Ashton have said that would make
Luke nervous?
“I’m glad you came,” Ashton says, his voice doing nothing to break the
tension. Louis takes his eyes off of Luke to find Ashton’s. They are honest
and warm, so much like Louis remembered. It feels weird seeing Ashton
again, after all this time. Louis has somehow compartmentalized his life to
before camp and after, but Ashton fits into neither slot perfectly. Louis
knew him during the camp. Ashton has seen Louis almost at his lowest, and
to be honest, Louis had convinced himself that after the night of Ashton’s
birthday, he would never lay eyes on the other boy again. It’s doing
something to his brain, making him feel as though it is both clearer and
more confused somehow. As if the fog is lifting somewhat to reveal even
more confusion.
“Yeah. I probably won’t stay long,” Louis replies with a shrug. He tries to
go for nonchalant and is almost positive he missed the mark. Ashton’s face
falls at the remark, disappointed in Louis’ dismissal. Louis knows him well
enough to recognize it. Just like he has seen Louis at his lowest, the same
could be said in the opposite. Louis has held Ashton while he cried more
times then he even wants to think about. He has heard him scream in pain,
has seen him roll his eyes so hard he could see his brain, and has watched
Ashton fall apart. He knows Ashton. He can recognize the disappointment
on his features almost as well as he can on Harry’s. A stab of pain shoots
through Louis’ chest at the thought of disappointing him.
“Louis. I- umm…” Luke pauses, as if he is unsure he wants to continue his

train of thought. He looks at Ashton, then back at Louis before he
continues. “Ash told me what happened. What you did for him while y’all
were there, and I wanted to thank you for taking care of him. For getting
him back to me.” Luke’s voice breaks with the last words, his blue eyes
watery now, and just like that all of the guilt Louis felt for helping Ashton
get out of that place evaporates from Louis system like rain hitting the
pavement on a hot summer day. How could he feel guilty when Luke is
thanking him for helping Ashton, for taking care of him?
“Louis. I haven’t-- I haven’t told Harry about what happened at straight

camp, I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to. He has your journal, though, but
he says he hasn’t read it. He said he didn’t want to know unless you told
him,” Ashton says, his voice taking on an uncertain quality. Louis flinches
at Ashton’s use of the term ‘straight camp’, his eyes prickling. No one says
it out loud to him, too afraid of his reaction. His mom hasn’t said it since
the day she came into his room to discuss him going to college. They kind
of just dance around the subject, not necessarily pretending it didn’t happen,
but more so not sure what to say about it. Louis isn’t sure how to feel about
it, even now.
Ashton being there, saying that, has pushed Louis’ two worlds onto an
imminent collision course, the person he was before camp and the person he
is now slamming into one another, battling to see who is going to take
control. His mind is being torn apart with it, shredding into tiny pieces like
paper in a hurricane. His heart, though, is fully in tact and beating for Harry,
even though Adam told him that it should beat for God. Louis is panicking,
he doesn’t know what to say or do. He feels like he needs to say something
to Ashton. They have been through so much together, and Ashton deserves
at least that, but his words are currently caught under the lump in his throat.
“Ash I…” Louis pauses, the words coming out thick. He clears his throat,
hoping that it may somehow dislodge ever growing lump, cutting off any
chance of breathing. That’s okay though. He doesn't need air. Air means
life, and Louis isn’t sure he has one anymore. Louis needs to say this
though, so he takes a deep breath and continues, “After you got out, I --
things got bad for me. I’m glad I got you out, though.” Louis means the
statement. He is glad he got Ashton out of there, and he is sure of that now.
He wasn’t up until a few moments ago, but seeing Ashton healthy and
happy, even though he is living his life in sin, has made Louis sure. It is the
only thing he is certain about at this current moment, and he clutches the
knowledge to him like a child to their security blanket.
“What happened after I left?” Ashton asks next, his nose and cheeks tinting
red, tell tale signs that he is holding back tears. Louis knows that look so
well, and his heart breaks, then he registers the question. His own tears
makes his vision blurry, and his limbs start to shake, the beer in his hand
foaming until it almost reaches the opening, close to spilling out onto the
kitchen floor. Louis’ breathing is becoming irregular, his mind immediately
going back to the two weeks between Ashton’s escape and Louis’ rescue.
He didn’t know it was two weeks at the time, but he was told later by his
mom that it was. It felt like an eternity to him though, all of the days and
nights melding together until the tortuous cycle became his every sleeping
and waking moment.
His stomach rumbles as he remembers the hunger they forced as he begged

for some sort of food, anything to make the pain in his stomach stop. They
eventually relented when he agreed to actually speak to them. All he could
think about during that time was Harry though, and how he had spent many
nights in the same state due to not being able to afford food. Harry wasn’t
deserving of it, but Louis felt, at the time, that he was because he wouldn't
speak to the counselors. That’s all they wanted. They just wanted to help
him. He eventually broke, his body slamming onto the pavement of rock
bottom with a harsh thwack, laying in a broken heap there until it kneeled,
prayer falling from his lips. Prayer to a God that put Louis through that. In
hindsight, maybe he shouldn’t have prayed because looking back on it, it
was torture.
“They…” Louis’ can’t breathe, whatever words he was about to say dying
in the air, reflecting how Louis feels at the current moment. Seeing Ashton
is far too painful, bringing all of the horrible memories from that place to
the surface. He has been looking back on it through rose colored glasses,
telling himself that it needed to be done for the greater good of Louis’ soul,
but did it? Was it necessary to force Louis into a baptism, to demand he
reveal intimate details about his and Harry’s relationship to make him feel
ashamed? Was it imperative that he beat a sack of clothing, pretending it
was Harry while he screamed at it? Was applying electricity, ice, or heat to
Louis’ skin while they forced him to watch gay porn really crucial?
The list goes on and on, and now, in the light of day, a few months
removed, Louis isn’t sure. He isn’t as sure as he was, and he is scared by
that. He feels sick. Is he back sliding? Is the Devil gaining control of him
again? Or is the Devil a mythical being like the boogeyman, made up to
scare children into going to bed on time, and all of this was done in the
name of a higher power that never existed? Harry would say that he is. He
has compared God to an imaginary friend before, something only believed
in by children, so would that make the Devil the equivalent of a
boogeyman? That would mean that neither of them exist, and Louis just
refuses to believe he went through all of that for nothing. He has to hold on
to God when he is questioning. He didn’t the first time, and it got him sent
to camp.
“Umm…” A deep, gravelly voice breaks Louis out of his spiraling

thoughts, pulling him back from the brink. The voice that makes up Louis’
dreams, his logical side, and sometimes his nightmares. It was the only
thing Louis’ clung to for the longest time, then it became something he
hated. Now, he doesn't know what that voice means to him. His heart feels
like it started beating again as soon as he heard the hesitant ‘umm’, and
Louis wants to cry over that fact. His head snaps to the doorway to find
Harry half inside, his features concerned by the scene in front of him. It’s
then that Louis realizes he is crying, tears streaming down both cheeks. He
wipes them away quickly, and Harry looks as though he is holding himself
back from doing something.
“Sorry to interrupt. Louis was gone for a while, and I came to check on
him, make sure he didn’t bail. Also the pizza is here, and we didn’t wanna
start without you guys. You know how Niall is with food around, I nearly
lost my hand when I told him to wait,” Harry tells them smiling at the joke,
obviously trying to lighten the tension that is flooding the room. How much
did Harry hear, though? Louis is glad that Harry came because, now, he
didn’t have to answer Ashton’s question, but at the same time, seeing Harry
is causing Louis to have more questions than he knows how to deal with.
He is bombarded with them, his mind spinning in a thousand and three
different directions when before, it was only going in one direction.
Towards Harry. Towards the freedom of college.
“Thanks for telling us. Come on. We should go join the party,” Ashton
responds, smiling brightly, his dimples making an appearance, even though
the grin doesn’t reach his eyes. Luke looks awkward, having been caught up
in a personal moment between Louis and Ashton, still unsure of where he
fits into it. Louis doesn't know how much Ashton has told him. If he had to
guess, he would say the bare minimum though, because Ashton is a lot like
Harry. Getting Harry to talk about his issues is like pulling teeth with pliers,
almost impossible. Louis is shocked when he feels Ashton’s arms wrap
around him, his body stiffening from the unexpected touch. It feels warm
and familiar though, and Louis finds himself melting into it, one hand
reaching under Ashton’s arm to lay between his shoulder blades.
“I’m glad your home, Lou,” Ashton whispers into Louis’ ear like a secret.
Home. It’s interesting that Ashton chose that particular word because Louis
had used that word to describe Harry while they were at camp, more times
than he can count. His home was Harry, and Louis has felt homeless for a
while now. In Ashton’s arms though, he realizes that maybe he is finding
his way through the fog. It isn’t as dense anymore, and when it lifts, maybe
he can discover some clarity. He hopes it’s before the confusion devours his
whole body, eating its way from his stomach and mind to other parts of his
flesh, like a parasite.
___________
Harry is only slightly tipsy when he pulls a joint out of his pocket, Niall
having asked him to bring a couple for the occasion. He is in a group of
people, so he thought it would be fine to drink a few beers. He isn’t
depressed, and he isn’t drinking hard liquor. He feels great, for the most
part. Louis came to the party, which is more than Harry had ever hoped for.
After Louis has been pretty much ignoring his existence since camp with
the exception of the few times they’ve spoken lecture and dinner in which
ended with Louis storming out. Harry had almost followed him that day, but
ultimately decided not to. He wanted to give Louis the opportunity to
process everything Harry had said on his own. That what he had always
done in the past and didn’t see the point of changing it now. Louis needs
time.
Harry often times finds himself wondering if Louis had read the poem. He
always assumed he had, but doesn’t really know. Does Louis know how
Harry feels about him that is why he has made a point to avoid him at all
cost. Then again, Harry isn’t sure that Louis has read it. Mark could have
taken it from him when they had their confrontation. Harry just doesn’t
know, and that is what drives him crazy. At first, Louis avoided him at the
party like the plague, even though Harry ached to hug him in the kitchen
after he overheard a bit of his and Ashton’s conversation. Somehow, over
the course of the last few hours, Louis has ended up sitting on the loveseat
beside Harry, close enough that their thighs are pressed together. Harry
thinks it has something to do with the beer Louis has been drinking, but he
isn’t questioning it.
It also helps that the others have somewhat paired off. Luke is sitting in
Ashton’s lap, his long legs still allowing his feet to touch the ground as they
giggle and whisper to one another, completely ignoring Liam and Niall who
are sat on the couch beside them, talking about whatever it is Liam and
Niall discuss. Harry isn’t always sure. Much like Luke, Tara has taken up
residence in Willow’s lap, both of them sitting in the recliner, talking to
Louis and Harry about anything and everything. Louis has become much
more relaxed, some of the tension leaving his stiff posture. Harry just hopes
he doesn’t flip out when he sees the joint poised between Harry’s ringed
fingers.
“Who wants to partake?” Harry asks, finding that he suddenly has the entire
group’s attention. He wiggles the joint between his fingers, enticingly. He
knows that Ashton, Luke, Liam and Niall all do it; they have smoked
together more than once over the past month. He thinks Willow smokes, but
it has never come up in conversation, and he has no idea about Tara. Harry
looks over at Louis to gauge his reaction. Louis’ eyes are fixated on it, his
mouth open in surprise. He is already contemplating it, Harry can tell.
Harry reaches into his pocket, pulling out two more joints, already rolled
and ready, and sits them on the coffee table in front of him. “I’ve got plenty
to go around.”
“Bless you! I knew you loved me, Haz! I couldn’t be happier if I had good
sense,” Niall says with a huge smile, clapping his hands together in joy. The
others in the room nod in agreement, positioning their bodies towards
Harry, giving him their attention. He looks over at Louis, who now looks
confused. Harry isn’t sure why for a split second, then it hits him. It was
what Niall had said. Another southern idiom. Harry smiles, leaning closer
to Louis.
“I know that saying is super weird, and I’m not even sure what it means. All
you need to take from it is that he is happy,” Harry says directly to Louis,
chuckling. Louis looks at him and smiles. It’s small, but it’s there, and
Harry is afraid he is imagining it. Louis doesn't smile as much anymore,
only when he is caught off guard. Harry misses it like a fish misses the
water. He feels like he needs it to survive, and he has been mostly deprived
of it for months now, however, the smile is definitely there now, and though
it may be small, it is beautiful, much like Louis.
“So?” Harry prompts, holding the joint up for Louis to see, shaking it a bit,
looking at Louis through his eyelashes. He can see Louis’ brain working it
out, trying to come to a decision. He won’t push Louis to do it however he
is prepared to discuss it if necessary. If Louis still refuses, then Harry will
accept it. When Louis begins shaking his head, Harry asks, his voice just as
low, “Why?”
“Because it’s against the Bible,” Louis responds, looking at it forlornly. His
voice is shaky though, telling Harry that he isn’t sure, which is good. He
was expecting an answer like that. The first time they smoked together, his
reason was because it is a ‘gateway’ drug, which Harry was quickly able
disprove. This would probably be even easier. Harry will just do what he
always does, use his own knowledge of the scripture to refute Louis’ logic.
He is already mentally preparing himself.
“Where does it say that?” Harry asks, trying to gauge Louis’ understanding
of the book. He wouldn’t be surprised if Louis hadn’t been burying his nose
in the Bible for the past few weeks because Harry has been breaking down
the carefully constructed beliefs the camp has instilled into Louis. They
probably encouraged him to go to the Bible if he is questioning it. The
Bible isn't an atheist, though, so Harry waits to see what Louis has up his
sleeve.
“Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the Devil, as a roaring lion,
walketh about, seeking whom he may devour,” Louis quotes, and Harry
stops his eyebrows for reaching for his hairline in surprise, keeping his
expression neutral instead. He was expecting the one from Corinthians, not
Peter. People usually use the one about your body being a temple blah blah
blah, so it is interesting that Louis chose this particular quote, one that
spoke about the Devil specifically. Not for the first time, Harry wonders
what kind of bullshit the camp filled his head with. Was there a lot of
discussion on the Devil?
“I don’t see how weed is any different than the alcohol you’re currently
holding in your hand,” Harry says, very well aware that all eyes in the room
are on them now, even though they are pretending to not be watching their
interaction. Louis stiffens, looking down at the drink in his hand, then back
up to meet Harry’s eyes. It is almost like he doesn’t know Harry, and Harry
thinks that is what hurts him the most, the look of uncertainty in Louis’
features, that feels like a knife in his chest.
“Jesus drank wine,” Louis responds, and Harry saw that one coming. That
is why he asked the question to begin with. He wanted that response. He
was banking on it for his next move. These discussions with Louis have
always been a bit like a game of chess to Harry, but now the stakes are so
much higher than they used to be. Before he was just battling years of shit
that Louis didn’t really believe, but now he is battling months of shit that
was tortured into him. Well he assumes tortured, but he isn’t completely
sure.
“By that logic, then weed should be fine. God created the earth and
everything on it which includes weed. Unlike alcohol, which is man-made.
So if it was bad, then why would he create it?” Harry asks, watching Louis’
face again, trying to read his thoughts. Louis, for the most part, looks
undisturbed, which is sort of new. He must have a response in mind. When
he opens his mouth, Harry braces himself because for the first time, he isn’t
sure what Louis is going to say.
“He also created poison berries, but that doesn't mean we should eat them,”
Louis responds with a smile, and shit, Harry was not expecting that. He
pauses for a moment to collect his thoughts, very well aware that all eyes in
the room are on him, now not even pretending to pay attention to anyone
else. No one interjects though, as if sensing the need for this to be just
between Louis and Harry.
“Doesn’t that make you ask why did God create berries that can not be
ingested by humans? Why would he want to kill us? Sure some animals can
eat berries that are poisonous to humans, but why would he make
something like that if we are his greatest creation? The creation he loves the
most. Isn’t it far more likely that the plant evolved that way over millions of
years as a defense mechanism? We’ve had this discussion before. Weed is a
natural plant that grows from the ground. Research shows that it is less
harmful than alcohol, which is currently in your hand and the pack of
cigarettes currently residing in the pocket of your jeans,” Harry says,
pointing to Louis’ pocket.
Louis looks shocked, as if he hadn’t realized Harry knew about his new
habit. Of course Harry knew. He knows Louis’ smell better than he does his
own, and now it has a hint of tobacco. Harry doesn’t mind. It may bother
his asthma, but he isn’t surprised that Louis needs something to help him
cope since he obviously isn’t handling everything in a constructive manner.
Harry had alcohol, so Louis just chose a different drug. Louis closes his
mouth, clearly trying to think of something to refute Harry’s argument.
Harry knows he is appealing to Louis’ scientific side, though. They’ve had
these types of discussions before, and Louis always ended up siding with
Harry, even if it was begrudgingly. Harry watches, waiting for Louis to
make his decision.
“Give me the damn joint, Harold.” Harry releases a breath he hadn’t even
realized he was holding, the nickname rolling off of Louis’ tongue doing
something to him. He gives Louis a wide grin before he hands the joint
over. The other boy takes it, carefully avoiding contact with Harry’s fingers.
Louis places it between his thin lips, and Harry may or may not wish it was
his cock instead. He smirks as he strikes the lighter, holding the flame up
for Louis. Louis rolls his eyes, but leans forwards, allowing Harry to light
the end, drawing the smoke into his lungs.
It isn’t long before they have passed the joint around the group, having
already started on the second. Harry is feeling sufficiently buzzed, but in a
pleasant sort of way. He has always preferred weed over alcohol. They have
been talking lazily about some of the people they knew in high school,
Ashton, Tara, and Willow providing updates, which turned into them
exchanging funny stories about the teachers which eventually lead to
hilarious things that happened to them while at school. Niall has been
animatedly recounting a tale that Harry is having a difficult time following
in his current state. Louis is a comforting presence next to him, and Harry
just wants to melt into him.
“So there I am, in the fuckin’ boys bathroom, choking the chicken ‘cause
Jules decided it would be a great fuckin’ plan to tease me durin’ third
period. I was about one second away from creaming my jeans if I hadn’t
asked the teacher for a pass to take care of it. Anyways, so I’m in the stall
right, and, like I said, I’m giving the ole’ meatstick a good beating if you
know what I mean,” Niall says, complete with crude hand gestures that has
Luke rolling with laughter, and Willow’s red brows have disappeared into
her hairline. Harry doesn’t know how he does it because his limbs currently
feel as though they are about a thousand pounds each, his head wanting to
detach itself from his body and float to the heavens. Maybe he will see if
God is there or not.
Harry stops listening after that, his body becoming attune to Louis’
stiffening beside him. He glances over to find the other boy’s face red, his
limbs tense, as though he is very uncomfortable with the change in subject.
Harry decides to take a chance and leans in, bumping his shoulder with
Louis’. When Louis’ blue eyes snap to Harry’s, there is a look there that
Harry can’t quiet place, but it hurts his questionable soul. “Are you okay,
Lou?” Harry asks, even though he isn’t sure if Louis would tell him
anything. He keeps his voice low though, not wanting to draw attention to
them. Niall is loud enough to drown out their conversation.
“Umm…” Louis bites his lip, as if trying to decide what he wants to say.
They both look around the room, but no one is paying attention to them, all
eyes fixated on Niall and whatever story he is currently telling. They seem
to find each others’ eyes at the exact same time, Harry’s breath leaving his
chest. He didn’t think he would ever be this close to Louis’ again, so close
to the sun. It should hurt his eyes, but he is just soaking him in. He still isn’t
restored to his full brightness, but Harry has seen a few rays shining
through the clouds.
“You can tell me, Lou. I won’t judge. You know that,” Harry says, trying to
put as much sincerity in his voice as he can. He watches Louis, holding his
breath, waiting to see if he will actually go out on this limb. If Louis will let
Harry help him like he has done for Harry so many times before. Harry
wants to. He wants to carry some of Louis’ burden. He wants to guide him
through the dense forest Louis’ thoughts seem to currently be residing in.
Louis just needs to take his godsdamned hand. Allow Harry that ability, and
he hasn’t yet, however, he seems to have been reaching for it.
“Masturbation is sexually immoral, isn’t it?” Louis asks, his voice hesitant
and uncertain. He is looking at Harry as if he holds all the answers. Harry
wishes he did, but he doesn’t. He isn’t even sure how to respond to this. He
knows that Louis’s guard is down due to his current state, so Harry really
needs to take advantage of this. He needs to see if he can get Louis to open
up a bit more about what happened to him, or maybe even the things they
told him. Get him to keep talking while he seems willing to, and hopefully
find out about the topics Harry needs to fight with logic.
“Do you think it is?” Harry asks, instead of responding with his own beliefs
on the matter, wanting to gauge where Louis is on this subject. He has never
heard Louis say that masturbation is sexually immoral, so this is new
territory for him. They hadn’t really discussed it, but Louis has told him that
he has masturbated before. He didn’t think there was anything wrong with it
even when they first met, so what has changed?
“The Bible says it is,” Louis responds, looking down at his hands as he
peels off the label on his beer bottle, damp from condensation. Harry
watches him, because, well he missed Louis. He missed even the simplest
things, like the fact that Louis always fiddles with objects around him or
even his fingers when he is nervous. When they had these type of
conversations before, Louis was usually always doing something with his
hands. It’s like it helps him think, and it might. Harry has to suppress the
urge to reach out and take hold of it, like he would have done a few months
ago.
“Well the Bible says a lot of things, most of it contradicting,” Harry begins
with a shrug, trying to sound nonchalant. He hopes that it will help jog
Louis’ memory, remind him of some of their earlier discussions. He wants
to shake him and scream that they have talked about this before. Beg Louis
to remember. “Masturbation is a natural occurrence. There are plenty of
animals that also masturbate, so it isn’t like we are the only beings on Earth
with the urge. If it was wrong, then why would God also grant animals the
urge to do it? It’s a healthy thing to do.”
“But my body is God’s temple. It was given to me by Him, so why would I

defile it like that?” Louis asks, his eyes wide. Harry’s head is far too fuzzy
from the alcohol and weed, but he needs to concentrate. Apparently, Louis’
current state has opened the door for Harry to discuss this with Louis. Harry
has a sick feeling that this is coming from his days at the camp. It is the
only thing that makes sense to him. He blinks a few times, attempting to
clear his head enough to step through the fucking door. He needs to do this.
“If a human’s body was so important to God, then why would he place
cancer in it? Why would any disease exist that makes your ‘temple’ wither
away? If he is so concerned about masturbation, then why isn’t there a cure
for cancer or any other debilitating disease that good people die from every
single day? That people are born with. Why is he so concerned with
pleasuring yourself, which scientific research says is healthy by the way?”
Harry asks, the words coming out even slower than normal. Louis looks
like he is battling with himself. Harry wishes he could jump into Louis’
head and help him fight those demons, but all he can do is try to aid him
from the outside, like Louis did for him.
“If it’s healthy, then why did I have to sleep with my hands tied? I just…”
Louis’ words trail off, and Harry is so confused. Louis had to sleep with his
hands tied? When? At the camp? Did they tie him up for masturbating or
something? Bile rises in Harry’s throat at that thought. Fuck. Would they
have done that? Harry knows they would have, though. He has read as
much. What else did they do? What other acts did they force Louis’ body
through? Harry isn’t sure he wants to know, but he is going to have to figure
it out if he wants to help him. Louis just gave him a glimpse, and that is
more than Harry could have ever hoped for.
“I don’t know exactly what you’re referring to, Louis, but masturbation is
normal. It’s natural. Everyone does it. You should never feel bad for it or
guilty for having done it. There is no shame in it. Anyone who said
otherwise clearly didn’t care about you, and wanted you to believe false
information as a form of control. You know, I’m here if you ever want to
talk about it,” Harry extends. Louis’ mouth is open, looking at Harry with
wide, haunted eyes, as if he is reliving some distant memory. He has seen
that look on both his and Ashton’s face so much lately, it haunts him.
Ashton has gotten better, but Louis seems to still be stuck. Louis just nods
once, snapping his jaw shut and taking a gulp of his beer.
“But they said I should feel ashamed. They said I should be embarrassed
over the memories,” Louis says then, his voice barely a whisper. Harry is
almost certain he wouldn’t have caught it if he wasn’t currently so close to
Louis he could almost kiss him. He wants to. He wants to kiss the confusion
and uncertainty off Louis’ features, but that would probably only serve to
make the older boy even more confused. Harry doesn’t want that, he wants
to clear things up, so he refrains, somehow. He thinks about what Louis just
said and realizes he has no idea what he is talking about.
“What memories, love?” Harry asks, glancing up to find Ashton watching

them. Ashton gives him a small smile in encouragement, then turns back to
the rest of the group, adding something to keep the discussion among the
others going, effectively diverting attention away from Harry and Louis’
own intimate conversation. Harry takes the joint from Niall, the blonde boy
not even paying attention as he hands it to him, already commenting on
what Ashton said. Harry brings it to his lips inhaling deeply.
“Our memories,” Louis answers, his eyes suspiciously shiny. He exhales the
smoke after the words tumble from Louis’ lips, the fragile skin broken and
red from his insistent chewing. He blows the smoke away from Louis’ face,
as he thinks about what Louis means. Louis isn’t giving him a lot of
information here. What did he mean by their memories? Harry thinks he
recalls reading about that in other straight camps. Did they use his
experiences with men as some sort of sick therapy? Is that what Louis
means. Fuck. That’s so fucked up. It would make sense though.
“Do you feel ashamed of them?” Harry asks, offering the joint to Louis. His
eyes go wide in surprise when Louis doesn’t take it. Instead, he leans in and
wraps his lips around it while it's still between Harry’s fingers. Harry’s cock
twitches at the sight. He can’t help it. Now is not the time to get horny, but
he knows what those lips can do. He has experienced what those lips have
done. He also knows that he probably shouldn’t be looking into it too much.
Louis is stoned and probably just north of drunk. His defenses are down,
and for all Harry knows, on Monday, he will probably be back to being
ignored again.
“I don’t know. I didn’t. Then I did, and now… I’m not sure,” Louis
whispers managing to keep the smoke in his lungs as he says it. He looks so
lost in that moment, so broken, Harry doesn’t know if he can put him back
together. Harry has to try, though. He has to try to squeeze Louis back
together because Louis did it for him, and Harry loves Louis more than life
itself. He does see a flicker of Louis’ old self in his eyes though, so that is
what Harry is going to cling to. “I’m just so confused.” Louis exhales, the
smoke falling over Harry’s face temporarily clouding his vision. When it
dissipates, Louis’ eyes look empty and hollow again, no longer shining with
any sort of internal light. That is what kills Harry the most.
“It’s okay not to be sure, Louis. After everything happened with Logan, I
spent a great deal of my time being unsure. I felt like I didn’t know who I
was. I was so ashamed of myself and of my actions. It took a lot to bring me
out of that. Even after it, I was sure of who I was, but I didn’t trust anyone.
You are aware of that,” Harry starts, chuckling at the memories of their first
few months together. “It almost killed me, Lou. That’s the point. It almost
killed me. Don’t be ashamed of who you are. Don’t be ashamed of what
you have done because people who truly love you, don’t care. You don’t
have to change to be loved and accepted. If you think you do, then maybe
you should reevaluate the people or higher powers, you want to be accepted
by.”
Louis doesn’t respond; he just stares at Harry, his gaze feeling as if it is

going through him. Harry seems to have lost him again, Louis now adrift in
his own thoughts. Harry wishes Louis would just tell him. Would just talk
to him. This must have been how Louis felt when Harry refused to open up
to him. It is so damn frustrating that Harry just wants to shake him until his
vision clears, and the world around him comes back into focus. Harry can’t
do that, though. He won’t. He needs to be patient. He can tell he is cracking
through, slowly leading Louis out of his fog, even if Louis refuses to take
his hand.
Chapter End Notes
I'm glad I no longer have to dodge random object you all throw at me,
but I have a feeling I will be soon again. xx

Underneath
Chapter Summary
Louis has a dream then he takes a walk to clear his head. He ends up at
the park where he finds something unexpected.
Chapter Notes
This is one of Zoe's fave chaps!!! Mine as well. I hope you all enjoy it
as much as we did.
So as always special thanks to my amazing friends Zoe and Dana. Zoe

is a writer as well, so please her name to visit their Ao3 page and
check out her stories. They are both amazing people and even better
friends. I don’t know where I would be or this story would be without
them.
Holding on to all that's wrong,
A calloused soul turned from sand to stone.
Directions etched into the wall,
To a place we never left at all- Blacktop Mojo
Louis is exhausted when he gets home from church, his limbs feel heavy
with it. He hasn’t been sleeping well, most nights waking up screaming into
his pillow. His mom has even come in to check on him a few times. He just
can’t stop dreaming about camp, mostly aversion therapy. That may have
been the worst part, besides the isolation and starvation he endured during
the last two weeks. Every time he closes his eyes he sees Dr. Thompson,
watching him, serving as a reminder that he shouldn’t let Harry in again. In
his dreams, the doctor transforms into God who tells Louis that he isn’t
allowed into Heaven because of his sins. Louis then feels like he is falling.
That is usually when he wakes up, screaming, his entire body wet with
sweat.
A few times he has dreamed that he is actually in Hell, and instead of Dr.
Thompson performing aversion therapy on him, the Devil is burning him
with the hottest branding iron imaginable, searing the word ‘sinner’ and
‘gay’ into his skin over and over. Louis begs him to stop, but he just laughs
in his face, telling him that he deserves the torture. Those nightmares are
much harder for Louis to wake up from. Usually he wakes himself up
screaming, his whole body tense, the sheets around him soaked. His mom is
usually there, soothing him, telling him it’s just a dream. She says things
that he doesn’t believe like he’s safe, he’s beautiful, and he’s perfect the
way he is. He knows what she is trying to say. He can read between the
lines, but most nights he doesn’t have the energy to tell her to leave. He
feels like his dreams are warning him to stay away from Harry, so he has
been. He has gone back to ignoring him during class. It hasn’t helped.
When he steps into his living room, he is relieved to find the house empty.
None of the normal noises that his sisters or his mom make. He doesn't
know where they are, but he knows they didn’t go to church. His mom
won’t go to church anymore, and he worries for her. He has told her on
more than one occasion she should go back and force his sisters to go. She
told him that she is an adult, and she can make her own decisions about her
faith. She said he was more than welcome to ask his sisters go with him, if
he was that concerned. Louis never did though because he still doesn't want
to be around them. He doesn't want to influence them in that way, and he
doesn't want them to influence his feminine behaviors. They are toxic to
each other, so he stays as far away from them as possible.
He slowly makes his way up the stairs, each step feeling as though it is
taking the same amount of effort as climbing to the top of Mount Everest.
He almost didn’t go to church today due to his exhaustion, but felt as
though he needed to be there. His mind has been everywhere. He has no
idea why he expects church to help; it hasn’t thus far. During every single
sermon he hears Harry’s voice in his head, arguing with the preacher.
Today’s sermon was on betrayal, the preacher mentioning Judas on several
occasions, and all Louis could think about was the conversation he had with
Harry. Louis did go home that night and search for the Book of Judas.
Harry didn’t lie. It does exist, and it does depict Judas as a close friend of
Jesus, only acting on Jesus’ orders. So no, church wasn’t helping.
When he gets to his room, he immediately pulls off all of his clothing and
slides under the covers on his bed. The sheets feel cool against his
overheated skin, the last bits of summer still clinging in the air, making
everything feel humid and sticky. He tosses and turns a few times before he
finds a comfortable position on his stomach, his arms hugging the pillow.
He tries to concentrate on the steady hum of the AC unit that has kicked on,
and does everything in his power not to think about church service today. It
mostly works, and he falls asleep shortly after.
Louis’ lungs are burning, but he pumps his arms harder, willing his legs to
move faster as he tries not to trip over the tree roots woven throughout the
forest floor. Ashton stops when they see flashlights, shining in their
direction, but Louis grabs his arm, pulling him along to keep going. They
do. Louis thinks they are almost there, but he can’t be certain. Everything
looks different under the cloak of night, darkness seeping into almost every
surface. The moonlight barely pierces through the trees, giving them just
enough illumination to keep from running head first into one of them. His
eyes sting with sweat and unshed tears. Louis wants to cry, his whole body
exhausted, but he pushes himself, pulling Ashton along with him. They can’t
give up. They can’t be caught. They are almost free.
“No point in running! The Lord can still see you! We will find you!”
Without thinking, Louis grabs ahold of Ashton’s arm again and pulls him
behind a large tree just as the light from the flashlights hits the spot where
they were standing just moments ago. They are both breathing heavily, and
Louis closes his eyes for a brief moment, pretending that he is back home
with Harry. When he opens them, he is hit with the reality of their situation.
They are going to be caught. They are going to be taken back to Hell on
Earth and abused. He doesn’t care about himself, but he can’t let that
happen to Ashton. For some reason, letting Ashton down almost feels like
letting Harry down, and he can’t do that again.
He looks into Ashton’s greenish eyes, and the strangest thing happens. His
eyes become greener, wide and round. His curly hair turns dark, the cleft in
his chin smooths out and his face becomes longer. His pale pink lips are
redder now, fuller at the bottom instead of all over. His jawline is sharper,
his nose wider, and before Louis’ eyes, Ashton has transformed into Harry.
Louis’ Harry. What the fuck just happened? Where did Ashton go? They
were trying to escape. How did Harry get here? Was Harry in the camp,
too? Louis feels sick at the idea of Harry going through that. No. He
couldn’t have. Louis was trying to escape.
“What are you doing here?” Louis’ voice is barely above a whisper, but it
feels as though it echoes off the trees surrounding them. He searches
Harry’s eyes for answers, but finds none. Harry’s hands come up to grip
Louis’ arms, the familiar touch causing Louis’ eyes to close for the briefest
moment, opening them expecting to find Ashton or even his bedroom. It’s
still Harry though, and Louis is just so confused. What is Harry doing here
in the woods near the camp while Louis is trying to escape? Is he there to
help Louis? Or is the Devil trying to tempt him away from his salvation just
like the counselor warned? He doesn’t see evil in Harry’s eyes, only love.
“I’ve come to rescue you,” Harry answers, his voice slow and methodical,
a direct contrast to Louis’ racing heart and mind. Louis’ body freezes at his
words because this is all Louis ever wanted, but he isn’t sure if it is what he
needs. What he wants and what he needs are two very different things.
Harry is now smiling at him, the moon behind him casting a silver light on
his skin, making it gleam like it’s own pale surface. It is illuminating his
curls like a halo, making him appear as if he is glowing. He looks like an
angel in the dark, but Harry is no attendant of God. They say he is the
opposite.
“No,” Louis responds, shaking his head and trying to pull out of Harry’s
grip. Harry holds on though, but it feels as though it is burning him, the
touch searing his skin. The metal of his rings feels even hotter, as if they are
branding him in some way. The voices are getting nearer, and Louis almost
wants to turn towards them. Go back to the camp where they are supposed
to help him.
“Isn’t that why you’re running? You were running to me, right?” Harry
asks, his brows drawn in confusion. What? Louis can’t remember why he
was running. He remembers he wanted to escape. He remembers losing
himself in all of this, but he just can’t seem to recall who he was before he
was brought here. That's the most frustrating part of it. When he was
running, he had a goal. He had a destination. Now, he doesn’t have
anything. He doesn’t even have a home.
“I’m so confused,” Louis whispers, looking back over his shoulder when
the beam of a flashlight shines on them briefly, searching. That is the only
way Louis knows how to express the anxiety in his gut and the questions in
his head. Confusion. He lives in a constant state of confusion. He doesn't
know up from down, wrong from right, good from evil. He just doesn't know.
He doesn’t know who is right. He doesn't know who to trust. He doesn't
fucking know who he is anymore or who he loves. He doesn’t know what is
real and what is fabricated by Satan or even if Satan truly exists.
“Let me help you,” Harry says, his fingers tracing down Louis’ arm until
his hand finds Louis’ own. It feels perfect intertwined with Louis’, as if their
hands were made to fit, like placing a square peg in an equally square hole.
The satisfaction one gets as it slides in easily, slotting together like magic.
How can this feel so perfect but be wrong? How can his touch instantly
make Louis feel better, grounded somehow, yet send him straight to Hell for
feeling that way.
“Louis! Come back to the camp. Let us help you!” Issac shouts, and where
the fuck did he come from? Louis looks over, finding the preacher holding
out his hand, Dr. Thompson at his side. Louis then looks down at his own
hand, intertwined with Harry’s. Would his hand fit with Issac’s like it fits
with Harry’s? Louis isn’t sure. He isn’t sure about anything. He feels torn.
His heart is saying to go with Harry, but something in his mind is saying
that he should turn towards Issac. The part of his mind that they have
altered beyond recognition.
“I can get us both out of this safely. You just have to trust me, not them,”
Harry tells him, never taking his eyes off Louis even when he nods in the
direction of Issac and Dr. Thompson. Louis looks in Harry’s eyes, painful
and honest. Louis can almost see a distant memory of a night that feels like
a different lifetime. The night that Harry showed his battered and barely
beating heart to Louis, telling him to take it. Right now, in the moonlit
woods of straight camp, is one of those moments that only exist between
fractured heartbeats, Louis’ this time, and Harry is vulnerable. He is
silently begging Louis to come with him.
Can he get them out safely? Was Louis running to Harry or to the Devil?
Was he running towards his freedom or his damnation? Louis doesn't know,
but Harry’s eyes are shining in the pale glow, the emotion written all over
his face for once. Harry isn’t hiding himself anymore. Harry showed himself
to Louis, and Louis is running from that now. He didn’t take off his mask to
reveal a pointed horned, red faced Devil. No. Just a broken boy who has
been through Hell but somehow found it in him to love someone like Louis,
and Louis has been running from it. From them. Because it’s wrong. Is it so
wrong? Is it wrong that Harry makes him strong?
Louis looks over to the other men, flashes of the torture Louis has suffered
at their hands playing through his mind like a montage of screams, blood,
and tears in a horror film. The forced baptism. The therapy sessions where
they told him lies, lies that Harry has easily debunked with facts. Aversion
therapy with electrocution, ice, and heat. Isolation. Breaking him down so
that they can rebuild his image into something they believed was correct
and pure. The only problem is that Louis doesn't know which is right. Which
version of himself is the true one and which one was built by someone else,
whether it be Issac and Dr. Thompson or Harry.
Somehow, despite the darkness of the woods, with only the moon above
them, Louis has never seen more clearly. Harry is in front of him. Harry is
the answer. He looks at Isaac and Dr. Thompson one last time before he
finds Harry’s eyes again, coming to a decision. His heart hurts, feeling as
though someone is stitching it back together, the prick of the needle as it
pierces the organ with each new beat then the heat of the friction from the
thread as it slides through, mending him. It hurts, but it also is needed
before he can be whole again. Somehow he is no longer feeling as torn.
With his newfound clarity, he squeezes Harry’s hand. “Save me,” Louis
whispers to Harry, a tear falling down his cheek praying to the God that
failed him that he isn’t making a mistake. That he didn’t just sign his soul to
the Devil, reserving a spot in a Hell that he wasn’t afraid of before.
“Always,” Harry responds, his red mouth turning up into a smile, dimples
popping. Louis feels as though his world has shifted. He looks around to
find that Issac and the doctor have somehow disappeared, just like that.
Harry’s smile becomes a full blown smirk, and it looks so sinful in the
moonlight, Louis is almost sure he did just sign his name to Lucifer. Louis
doesn’t stop him, nor does he pull away, when Harry bows his head,
trapping Louis’ lips in a fierce kiss.
“Harry, please,” Louis whispers, even though he doesn't really know what
he is asking for. Maybe some more clarity. Maybe for more of the fog in his
mind to be lifted, allowing the details of his life to come into focus, his
image to reappear. Maybe he just wants Harry to deepen the kiss, which he
does, his wet warm tongue licking the seam of Louis’ lips, a silent request
for entrance. Louis opens his mouth easily, allowing it, because kissing
Harry is a lot like breathing. It’s easy, involuntary, done on instinct, and
necessary for Louis to remain living.
As Harry continues to delve deeper into his mouth, Louis’ fingers somehow
find Harry’s dark curls, tangling in them. Harry’s own hands are on the
small of Louis’ back, pulling him in so that their chests are aligned. Louis
moans when he feels Harry’s hard length pressed against his own rapidly
growing erection. With each new kiss, the fire deep in Louis’ gut is stoked to
life, more blood rushing to his neglected length. Instead of the sting in his
arm that Louis usually feels anytime he is turned on, he just feels a rush of
pleasure. In place of the guilt and shame, he feels rejuvenated and free.
Louis whimpers when Harry breaks the kiss, looking down into Louis’ eyes,
searching. Louis wants to look away, his skin feeling raw and itchy under
the intense gaze. He feels as though Harry is looking into his soul, seeing
his memories, and Louis has the strangest urge to protect Harry from them.
They are Louis’ burden, not Harry’s. Harry has been through enough in his
life. He doesn't need Louis’ trauma, too. Louis wants to hide it away under
the bed where no one will see it but him, but he feels like it’s impossible to
hide from Harry at this moment. Almost as if Harry is God. All knowing. All
seeing. Omnipresent.
Louis’ eyes widen and his mouth falls into a small, surprised ‘o’ when
Harry drops to his knees, looking up at him through hooded eyes. Louis
closes his mouth long enough to swallow dryly, his dick straining against
his pants at the view in front of him. The pale moonlight washes over
Harry’s face, the shadows making everything seem more angled, and Louis
realizes that this is all ever needed. “What are you doing?”
“Well, not praying if that’s what you’re asking,” Harry responds with
another wicked smirk, but the words echo in Louis’ mind, almost like a
memory. Is it a memory? It feels like a memory, but Louis was told to
suppress those. He was told to tie them off like a tourniquet, to cut off the
blood flow, so that they would die along with his desires for Harry. His
desire for Harry hasn’t diminished at all, however, so maybe there is hope
for his memories with him to come back full force. Maybe he can remember
his time with Harry without bile rising in his throat, Adam’s commentary
reverberating in his head.
Louis watches with hooded eyes as Harry pushes him so that his back hits
the tree they are hiding behind. Louis can feel the rough bark against his
back, scratching him through his shirt. Harry lifts his hands to the button of
Louis’ pants, then looks up, a silent question in his eyes. Is this okay? Louis
isn’t sure. It shouldn’t be. He tries to remember all of the reasons why it’s
not, but he can’t find it in him to push Harry away. To run back screaming
for Issac or Dr. Thompson, telling them that he made the wrong choice, that
this was a mistake. Instead, he finds himself nodding his head in agreement.
Harry slowly pops the button of Louis’ pants then pulls the zipper down
with two fingers, the sound somehow muffling all the other noises that come
along with the forest around them. It’s louder than the wolf howling at the
moon. It drowns out the rushing river, the same river that Louis was
baptized in, cleansed. Except he didn’t feel clean after that. He felt defiled
and impure. He remembers thinking that Harry never made him feel that
way, even though they very much wanted him to believe that he did. Even
now, Harry isn’t making him feel that way.
Louis hisses when the humid night air of the woods hits his even hotter dick
as it springs free from his underwear, released by Harry’s sure hands. Harry
looks up and Louis nods, biting his lip because this is all he has been
wanting. This is what he needs. He needs Harry. He chose Harry to stay
with, despite everything. Can Harry offer him salvation? Clarity? Here in
these woods, with Harry on his knees before him, Louis feels human for the
first time. Louis feels clean. If he tells Harry his sins, will Harry be like
Issac and Adam and all of the others? Will he sharpen his knife, readying it
to pierce it through Louis’ chest and tell him how wrong he is?
“They told you you were born sick, Louis. That this illness in you is the
absolute truth. That only God can heal you and command you to be well,
but is that true? Do you think that you’re sick? Do you think that you’re
wrong for choosing me in the woods tonight?” Harry tells him, the words
sending tingles down Louis’ spine. His mind thinks of the questions Harry
asks, despite his dick’s attempts to reroute all of the blood in his body to
itself. Is he really sick? Was he born sick? If so, then why would God give
him a disease that seems incurable? What kind of God would do that?
Louis’ brain stops spinning when Harry places a wet kiss on the head of his
dick. It twitches in interest, and Louis closes his eyes, soaking this in. His
voice is deeper somehow when he says the next part, making Louis’ whole
body tingle in anticipation. “If we were born sick, then I love it.”
“Harry, please,” Louis repeats, opening his eyes and looking down to find
Harry sticking out his tongue, the hot wet surface tracing an indistinct
pattern along his shaft over and over, almost as if he wants it to make sense.
Nothing makes sense to Louis right now. The only thing that is clear is
Harry. The way Harry makes him feel. The way he makes him think. The
desire coursing through his system, making him squirm. The questions
racing through his mind, with seemingly no end in sight. Instead of
concentrating on those though, he fixates on Harry’s mouth, the way it
knows exactly what Louis wants, as his tongue continues to trace the veins
of Louis’ shaft like an unexplored underground railway.
“Fuck,” Louis moans when Harry takes the head into his mouth, swirling
his tongue around the slit. It’s been so long, and his body feels like it is on
fire. Maybe Harry is fireproof. Maybe they both are, and there is nothing to
be afraid of in Hell. Isn’t Hell supposed to be full of fire? If they are
fireproof, then that wouldn’t matter. Nothing can touch them there. Louis
can’t stop himself from carding his fingers through Harry’s dark curls.
Harry smiles up at him, his wide mouth curving at the corners despite the
dick currently occupying it, and Louis’ knees almost buckle at the sight.
“That feels so good, Harry. So fucking good. Please. Just. Please. Don’t
stop,” Louis rambles, watching as his dick disappears inside Harry’s hot
mouth over and over again, each time he sinks down another spark of
pleasure travels from Louis’ spine to his tight balls. He isn’t going to last
long at this rate. Harry’s eyes are shining bright in the moonlight, bathing
his skin in a soft glow, and Louis realizes then that this is how Harry should
always be. The slight shroud of darkness surrounding him, making him
stand out in the most beautiful way.
Harry has always had a darkness about him, but that isn’t necessarily bad.
Like the moon, Harry is mysterious. He is a different type of light, soft and
beautiful. He doesn't illuminate everything, instead he creates a shadow on
objects and people. He is the in between. Harry shows that in the world
there isn’t a line drawn in the sand between good and evil, dark and light,
because there are many things that fall in the middle of those two extremes.
Some things are shadows and gray, and Harry creates those shadows,
showing them to people, not for the purposes of fear, but for knowledge and
acceptance. In the shadows, people are accepted. Harry is the moon. Not
nearly as appreciated as the sun, but just as necessary because people need
darkness as much as they need light.
“Harry. I’m close. Please,” Louis begs, his hands now fisting Harry’s hair
as he thrusts his hips into Harry’s waiting mouth, hot, wet and perfect. He
can feel the coil behind his navel tighten, the spring being pressed down
until it is straining against its suppressor, ready to be released. He moans as
he watches Harry, his wicked mouth making Louis feels things that he didn’t
know were possible anymore. It should feel wrong. It should feel sinful and
evil, but it doesn't. If feels heavenly. It feels like Louis is flying in the
heavens where nothing can touch him. This is the only heaven Louis wants
to be sent to. Here in the forest, under the shroud of the moon, alone with
Harry.
Louis groans when his hips rut against something that is forgiving but
providing just enough friction to take him over the edge. His head feels
fuzzy, and he is still partly convinced that it is Harry’s mouth, but it’s not
wet. It’s not perfect, but it’s enough right now. It feels so good, and Louis
allows himself, for a moment, to go on pretending that whatever it is, it is
attached to Harry in some way. Louis’ whole body freezes when his
consciousness begins to return once more. His bedroom comes into focus,
the sounds of the woods fade, replaced by the humming of the air
conditioner and other noises that have become so normal to Louis, he
doesn’t even notice them anymore. The trees and moon vanish, Harry’s
eyes gone with them, and Louis fucking whimpers.
He turns over onto his back, breathing heavily, his mind racing. It was just a
dream. It was a dream, but what did it mean? He can’t think about that right
now because his dick is so hard it is aching. He tries to normalize his
breathing, pinching his arm over and over again as a way to distract himself
from his dream and the memories of his moments with Harry that are
currently flooding every crevice of his brain, demanding to be recognized.
It doesn’t work. All he can think about is Harry’s mouth. Harry’s body.
Harry’s eyes as he sucked him off and promised him safety. Fuck.
Louis traces a hand down his own torso, wanting nothing more than to grab
his dick and release the coil deep in his stomach, but he can’t. It’s a sin.
Masterbation is natural. Harry’s voice echoes loud and clear in his head,
the conversation they had while Louis was tipsy and stoned coming to the
forefront of his mind. There is no shame in it. Anyone who said otherwise
clearly didn’t care about you, and wanted you to believe false information
as a form of control. With that thought, Louis’ hesitantly pushes his hand
under the sheet covering his lower half, for the first time since was caught
at camp.
Louis doesn’t bother grabbing any lube from the Bible box that is probably
still hidden in his room. Doesn’t think about it as he his bites his lip on a
moan when his hand wraps around his aching shaft, his grip firm. Fuck. He
feels squirmy, his eyes darting around the room as if he is going to get
caught. If there is a God, he is watching him, and a very sick part of Louis
hopes he is enjoying it as much as Louis is. Louis closes his eyes, picturing
Harry as he begins to stroke himself, allowing his mind to fall back into the
dream he has just woken up from. The memory of Harry’s lips as he
swallows him whole, hot and wet, is everything Louis wants and needs in
that moment.
Just a few sharp tugs, and Louis is screaming Harry’s name as spurt after
spurt of hot come coats his stomach and chest. The pleasure rocks his body,
seeming to never end, as he continues coming, long overdue. He hasn’t
come since prom night, and that was months ago. He lays there with his
sweat and come drying on his skin, panting in the bliss of his orgasm for a
few glorious moments before reality starts to seep in. Slowly, Louis’ body
begins to burn with shame. What has he done? He just committed another
sin because of fucking Harry. Fuck. He was doing so well, and then he just
fucking backslid over a dream.
A dream that Louis still doesn't understand. Louis quickly gets out of his
bed, running into his bathroom, turning on the shower. He makes the water
hot, and he quickly steps under the spray. He scrubs his skin until it is raw,
red from his constant ministrations and the water that is far too hot. The
evidence of his sin is gone, washed down the drain, but he still doesn't feel
clean. He feels no cleaner than he did after he was baptized in a dirty river,
against his will. A river that Louis just heard in his dream, the sound of it’s
stream mingling with the sucking noise of Harry’s mouth as Louis fucked
into it. Fuck. He needs to get out of here.
Louis exits the shower, quickly drying off. He finds a pair of athletic shorts
and a t-shirt, haphazardly throwing them on his body. He grabs a hoodie,
his body now feeling cold since stepping out of the too hot water. Once
everything is on, he makes his way out the door, cigarette already poised
between his fingers. A walk. Yes, he needs a fucking walk. He needs to
smoke, and pray, and walk. He needs to get Harry out of his system and beg
for forgiveness for the sin he’s just committed. Louis doesn't pick a
particular direction to go in when he begins walking, drawing smoke into
his lungs and holding it there before he releases it in a cloud that very much
resembles Louis’ brain right now. Hazy and distorted.
Why did he have a dream where he chose Harry? Is the Devil now taking
over his dreams to tempt him even more? Or is it just his psyche trying to
process everything that Louis is refusing to acknowledge? Is there a deeper
meaning to it, or is it just the Devil working to veer Louis away from the
path to God? Louis' eyes sting with unshed tears as he continues to walk, so
lost in his thoughts and the dense forest of confusion, he doesn't even
realize where he is going or his surroundings.
Why did he choose Harry when he is the Devil? Is he really the Devil,
though? Harry never hurt Louis. Harry never held him down against his
will. Harry never made him feel ashamed for who he was or his own
thoughts. Harry never, ever, made Louis feel unsafe, so why is he the
Devil? If Harry is the Devil, then Hell is looking more and more like
Heaven to Louis, but isn’t that what the Devil would want him to believe?
That he could offer him some sort of paradise when it is really just torture.
Harry hasn’t tortured him though, but they have, all in the name of God.
They preached God’s love while hurting Louis and Ashton. How is that
good?
“Lou! Hey, Lou!” A deep voice breaks into Louis’ consciousnesses, and
fuck. Louis looks around, the world seeming to come back into focus,
despite his inner turmoil. He’s at the park. How the fuck did he get here?
When he hears his name again, Louis automatically turns towards the sound
and sees Harry running up to him, his long curls held back by a dark
headscarf. His eyes hidden behind a pair of dark black sunglasses. He’s
smiling, his dimples popping, and all Louis can think of is his dream which
in turn makes his dick twitch uncomfortably. Fuck. What is he doing here?
“Hey! I didn’t know you were planning to come to the park today, or I
would have invited you along,” Harry says, spinning a fucking football in
his large hands as if it something he does on a regular basis. A football? Is
Louis still dreaming. Invited him along? Who the fuck is he here with? The
question is answered when Louis’ younger sisters run up behind Harry,
stopping in their tracks when they see exactly who Harry is speaking to.
Louis' heart hurts at the sight of them. He has seen them, of course, they
live together, but he hasn’t spent any amount of time with them. He misses
them so much, he doesn't exactly know how to handle it.
“I didn’t plan on coming,” Louis responds, his voice cracked and barely
above a whisper. Lottie and Fizzy are sharing identical looks of unease,
peering at him through squinted eyes. Louis feels the tension rolling off of
them, his own nerves mixing with it, creating something tight and almost
tangible. He isn’t completely sure how he is supposed to interact with them
anymore, and that bothers him more than he wants to admit. He made the
decision to stay away from them for their own good, but was it the right
one? The twins are staring up at him, their blue eyes watery with tears, and
Louis is so confused.
“We were gonna play some two hand touch. Wanna join?” Harry asks, and
Louis can tell he is holding his breath. Since when does Harry play
football? And what is he doing there with Louis’ sisters? Louis used to do
this with them, and the idea that someone has taken his place, even if it’s
Harry, hurts. He chose to distance himself from them, though, but Harry is
just as bad as him. Worse even. Harry doesn’t see anything wrong with his
homosexuality. What kind of influence does he have on them?
“No. I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Louis starts, shaking his head.
Harry’s face falls for a split second before he arranges his features into
something that looks a lot like determination. Louis can’t do this. He can’t
play in the park with his sisters like nothing happened. He can’t be
responsible for their time in Hell even though he is responsible for his own.
“Louis, please,” Harry starts, but Lottie cuts him off.
“C’mon, Haz. Let’s just play. He clearly doesn’t want anything to do with
us anymore.” Her voice is cold, the words hitting Louis like a punch in the
gut. He feels like he can’t breathe as nausea churns his stomach. How could
she think that? Yeah Louis hasn’t been around, but it has been for their
benefit. How can she not see that he is a poison in their family, like cancer
spreading until everyone is dead and in Hell? Why would they want
anything to do with him? Why would they want to be around someone
defective? They obviously do, since they are currently spending time with
Harry. In some ways, Louis can’t force himself to view Harry as defective.
“Lou,” a small voice says, and Louis looks down to find Phoebe, tugging on
his hand. His heart breaks when he sees more tears in her eyes, some
streaming down her face. She looks confused, and Louis understands that.
He has the power to fix her confusion though, despite being unable to fix
his own. “Lou. Please. Play wiff us,” she begs, her blue eyes big and
innocent. Louis is startled to notice that she no longer has issues with
pronouncing the ‘L' in 'please' and 'play’. When did that happen? When did
she get so tall? When did Lottie cut her hair? When did they grow up
without him noticing? Louis looks down at his little sister, one of the girls
he loves more than anything in the world, and takes a deep breath, finding
Harry’s eyes.
_____________
Harry holds his breath as soon as the question leaves Phoebe's lips. Louis is
looking down at her, his eyes watering as if he is holding back tears. Harry
knows that Louis misses the girls. He knows that Louis was very close to
them, so his refusal to see them has to have been very difficult for him.
Harry still isn’t sure why Louis is refusing to spend his time around them,
but he has his suspicions it has to do with camp. Everything does these
days. If Louis agrees to this though, then maybe Harry can get him to open
up a bit more, like he did at the party. A lot of good that has done, though.
Louis has been avoiding him at every opportunity since that night. Harry
almosts wishes he hadn't called out his name when he walked near them
earlier, but he did.
Louis’ eyes are slightly dilated, and his hair is wet from what seems to be a
recent shower. He looks unsteady, as if something recently happened that
shook him a bit. Harry wonders what, but doesn't ask, too afraid of another
rejection. Even though he feels as though he has made headway with Louis
over the past few months, Louis pushing him away still stings. Harry tries
to remember prom night and all of the important moments leading up to it.
He tries to recall how Louis kept fighting even when Harry was pushing
him away. Louis didn’t give up, so Harry isn’t going to either. Louis’
trauma is more recent than Harry’s, however Harry didn’t have anyone like
Louis in his life before.
“Um… Yeah. I’ll play,” Louis says, finding Harry’s eyes. Harry can’t stop
the grin from splitting his face, the dimples pulling deeply into his cheeks.
He squeezes the ball in his hands, looking down as Phoebe and Daisy cheer
simultaneously. He glances over at the older girls, and they are eyeing
Louis suspiciously. He doesn't blame them. They have both expressed anger
towards their brother because, unlike their younger sisters, they feel
betrayed by him. They aren’t quite old enough to comprehend what Louis
went through, but they are old enough to realize that he has been avoiding
them. Phoebe and Daisy blame themselves, which is horrible, while Fizzy
and Lottie blame Louis.
Harry gives them a meaningful look, glancing down at the twins as if to say
‘they’re really excited. Give your brother a chance'. Lottie gives him a firm
nod while Fizzy still seems hesitant. Harry pastes on a smile, and tosses the
ball in the air, catching it easily. Louis’ eyes widen at that, so Harry smirks
at him, his heart racing because he is going to have a reason to touch Louis.
Louis is going to play football with them at the park. Maybe he will even
get Louis to talk to him. “Think you can keep up, Tommo?” Harry asks,
using Louis’ old nickname, the one that was only used by his various
teammates.
“You’re the one with the giraffe legs,” Louis responds, and Harry can
almost hear the faintest hint of teasing in his tone as Louis’ eyes travel his
legs up and down. Harry is thrilled, his stomach feeling as though moths
have taken up residence there. Louis seems to realize what he said though,
because the amusement quickly fades from his eyes, and Harry wants to
fucking scream. As if to distract himself, Louis takes his hoodie off, his
shirt riding up a bit to expose a sliver of his tan stomach. Harry wants to
bite it, but somehow refrains. Once the item is off his body, Louis pulls his
shirt down, a blush tinting his high cheek bones when he notices Harry’s
gaze. He’s so pretty, Harry could look at him forever. At least he is wearing
protective eye wear as he looks at the sun this time.
“You never had an issue with my giraffe legs when the were wrapped
around your face,” Harry mummers, bending low to say the words directly
into Louis’ ear so that his sisters won’t overhear the dirty comment. Louis
freezes, his whole body tense. Harry steps away, smirking down at him for
a split second before he takes another step back, then another, tossing the
ball to Louis. The older boy catches it easily, hands coming up almost as if
they have a mind of their own. He makes it look effortless, and Harry had
almost forgotten what Louis looked like with a football in his hands. He
briefly wonders how long it has been since Louis even held a one. Louis
spins it, as if testing the weight, making sure he remembers.
“Okay. Umm-- we need teams,” Louis says, clearing his throat and
surveying the group around him. Harry is glad Louis seems to be taking
some initiative. Louis spins the football on one finger before he easily
catches it absentmindedly. It’s sexy, and Harry has to will his half hard cock
to calm the fuck down. “Fizzy and Daisy, you can be on my team. Hazza,
Lottie and Phoebe, you can be on the other.” Louis doesn’t wince when his
nickname for Harry slips from his lips, and Harry counts that as a win. It
feels better than winning any football game.
“Works for me. Can you girls go set up the goal posts?” Harry asks, and the
twins run to set about their task, laughing and giggling, delighted that their
brother is going to play with them. Fizzy and Lottie trail behind them,
whispering to each other and glancing back at Harry and Louis. “Grab some
water from the vending machine over there, too! Don’t want y’all to get
dehydrated.” Lottie waves in acknowledgement, and Harry turns back
towards Louis, surprised to see Louis’ mouth open ready to speak.
“Do you all do this often?” Louis asks, biting his lip as if he couldn’t help
himself. He isn’t really looking at Harry, though. Instead his eyes are
trained on Phoebe and Daisy, watching them skip to the vending machine
whilst holding hands, their blonde hair bobbing up and down, shining in the
sunlight. Harry wonders what Louis is thinking about right now. Wonders if
he misses his sisters. He has to, though. Louis loves his sisters more than
anything, so he has to at least feel bad for ignoring them, regardless of his
personal reasons for it.
“Yeah. Every Sunday. Jay needs time to herself, so I take them for a few
hours. Ashton and Luke will sometimes join us when they aren’t spending
the weekend at Luke’s house. Just me today, which I don’t mind. I love
hanging out with them,” Harry tells him, taking off his sunglasses and
propping them on the headband currently holding his curls back. He means
every word, though. He loves Louis’ sisters almost as much as he loves
their brother. He smiles as he watches them for a brief second, then looks
back to find Louis’ eyes on him. It almost feels as though Louis is studying
him, and Harry barely stops himself from squirming. Louis looks confused,
then bites his lip, a sure sign that he wants to ask Harry something. Harry
holds his breath, hoping that Louis does. Questions are good.
“You shouldn’t though,” Louis says, and Harry’s eyes go wide, taken aback
by this turn of events. Louis looks down as if trying to collect his thoughts.
He looks up again, finding Harry’s eyes. A knife slices through Harry’s
chest, quickly finding his heart because Louis looks as if he is about to cry.
Harry almost reaches out to him, to hug him, to kiss him, to do something
however he keeps his distance a bit, knowing that it will just push Louis
away, and they will get nowhere. So he waits for Louis to continue with
whatever thought is swirling around in that beautiful head of his. “You’re a
bad influence on them.”
“What do you mean?” Harry asks, his heart skipping a beat at Louis’ words.
He tries not to feel hurt, but he does. He can’t help it. Louis thinks he is a
bad influence on his sisters? How can he think that? Harry would never hurt
them, then Harry reminds himself that this is probably a product of the
camp. Louis looks frustrated, his brows drawing together, as he searches his
mind for a way to express himself. Harry waits patiently, glancing over to
make sure Louis’ sisters are heading back towards them. He knows the
moment they come back, he will probably lose Louis again.
“Like… they will see you and think that it is okay to be the way you are,”
Louis uses one hand to gestures to Harry’s whole body, and Harry has to
bite his tongue, his temper flaring. What the actual fuck? To be the way he
is? Louis is the way he is. Harry takes a deep breath, silently reminding
himself that this is just the fucked up people at the camp talking. These
aren’t Louis’ real beliefs, but Harry is starting to understand where this is
going. He can almost guess some of the shit they told Louis, so he does
what he always does. He takes the logical approach.
“That’s because it is okay to be the way we are,” Harry responds easily,

adding a shrug. Louis freezes at Harry's use of the inclusive term. Harry
wonders if the other boy is going to comment on it. Insist to Harry that he
is, in fact, straight, then maybe try to ‘save’ him or whatever. It is a simple
answer though, no theology in it. Not yet anyway, so he is interested to see
what Louis will say.
“No it’s not. It’s wrong. If they think it’s okay, then when they go to Hell, it
will rest on your shoulders. I’m doing the right thing by not being around
them because I am poison to them. I am not going to be responsible for
demons raping my sisters for eternity over a choice,” Louis says, anger in
his tone. His eyes are watery though, confusion in them despite his harsh
words. Harry takes a moment to collect his thoughts because there is a lot to
discuss.
“Doesn’t the Bible also say that each person is responsible for their own
salvation? Didn't we already have this discussion, Lou?” Harry asks. Louis
spins the football in his hand, looking down. They did. At the diner, but that
doesn't mean Louis agreed with what Harry had said. He probably
convinced himself he didn't. Sometimes Harry gets frustrated because he
finds himself having to make the same points over and over again to Louis.
Before camp, they usually only talked about a topic once or twice, but now
it seems as though Louis just talks in circles, reflecting the confusion in his
head.
“Yeah,” he responds after a few moments, looking up again to find Harry’s

eyes. “But they will still see you. See me, and think it’s okay to sin. Then
they will sin and be sent to Hell, all because of me.” Louis’ tone is sad, and
Harry almost can’t believe what he is hearing. What the actual fuck? He
doesn't even want to think about the raped by demons comment. He had his
suspicions after their conversation over dinner, but this confirmed it. The
fact that these sick fucks used Louis’ love for his family as a way to
brainwash him makes bile rise in Harry’s throat, his hands balling up into
fists at the sudden urge to find every single one of these fuckers and
strangle them.
“Is that what they told you at camp?” Harry asks, and Louis flinches, so
Harry takes that a yes. He plows on, needing to get this out before the girls
come back. “Well it’s bullshit. I've already said as much, but think about it
this way. Your sisters are immersed in a society that constantly sins. We had
this conversation, Lou. We talked about it multiple times. You can’t pick
one sin to be worse than another. Lottie’s hair is shorter, so she sinned.
Phoebe is wearing jeans and a t-shirt, so there is another sin. They aren’t
going to live their lives in a bubble. They are going to be exposed to shit all
the time, that the Bible has deemed a sin. Half of it, is a contradiction,
though. There are hundreds of sins written in the Bible, so why is yours so
much worse than stuff that people do every single day. The answer is that it
isn’t. You should be worried about making sure they turn into good people,
not people who are only good because they fear some supernatural being
that may or may not be real.”
“Have I been distancing myself from them for nothing?” Louis asks, his
voice barely above a whisper, and for some reason, Harry doesn’t believe it
is a question meant for him. Not really. He sounds so lost, Harry’s gut
clenches, his heart feeling as though it is bleeding out. Louis looks as if he
is questioning his very existence, and Harry knows he needs to bring him
back from the edge, or Louis will refuse to play. Louis needs this. He needs
to interact with his sisters. He needs to see that he isn’t toxic to them. He’s
not bad or hurting them. By Louis touching them, the ground won’t
swallow them whole, taking them to Hell.
“You don’t have to, babe. Start with a game,” Harry suggests, smiling when
Louis seems to snap out of it, looking at Harry’s face. Louis looks at his
sisters, who are all smiling widely as they head back towards them, having
set up their makeshift goals. Louis nods his head, and Harry is so proud of
him for having made this decision. He could easily walk away. It would be
so simple for Louis to turn around and walk home and lock himself in his
room, but no, Louis is taking another step. Baby steps. Almost there.
“Alright. It’s been a while, but I’m assuming the rules are the same?” Louis
asks, smiling down at Phoebe. It doesn’t reach his eyes, but at least he
seems to be trying. Phoebe just beams, so happy to have her brother talking
to her again. Every time they have asked Harry why Louis hates them over
the past few months, Harry felt as though he was suffocating on an answer.
Louis never hated them. He knew that, but it is hard to explain that to six
year olds, especially without scaring them.
“Yes Lou! Lottie and Fizzy are the cortabacks. If you get touched by two
hans, you’re out. No tickling,” Diasy explains, and Harry can see the hint of
amusement on Louis’ features at her outline of the rules. It’s another
glimpse of sunlight, and Harry is so close to being burned by it. He doesn’t
mind. He missed it too much to care.
“No tickling, huh? So this is isn’t allowed?” Harry asks, quickly bending
over to tickle Daisy’s sides as she shrieks in delight, giggling and trying to
pull away. After the fourth ‘no’, Harry laughs, and stands back up, finding
Louis’ eyes. He is shocked to see a fond look on Louis’ face, a small smile
pulling at his lips. Harry tries not to blush, but he is almost certain he is
failing. Harry coughs, “Alright. Let’s get this show on the road.”
They all get into formation after that, deciding that Louis’ team will get the
ball first. As soon as Louis is thrown the ball by Fizzy, he takes off. Harry
had almost forgotten how fast his strong legs can carry him, as he sprints
towards the goal, brows drawn in concentration. Harry doesn’t even chase
after him, just watches in awe, half hard from the sight of Louis’ firm ass
flexing under his blue athletic shorts. Harry wants to lick the crease
between the bone and his quads, tracing a path up to his cock. Holy fucking
shit. Harry decides then to go after him, jogging lazily, as Louis sprints into
the endzone, spiking the ball, turning towards Harry. He isn’t smiling, but
he does look happy, and the sight does something to Harry’s heart.
“Well it seems as though you haven’t lost your touch with balls after all,”
Harry says, voice low enough not to be heard over the excited shouts from
Phoebe and the disappointed groan from Daisy. Harry smirks at him, the
sexual innuendo easily rolling off his tongue. He remembers when he was
too shy to even say them, half of the time they just flew right over his head.
Louis looks taken aback by the comment, but that was the point. Harry
wants to flirt with Louis. He wants to make Louis question his ridiculous
decision to stay away from Harry and staying on the ‘path of salvation’
because it is just bullshit.
“You wouldn’t know, would you?” Louis asks, and Harry isn’t sure if he is
joking or not. Harry is going to take it as one though because there is a hint
of amusement in Louis’ eyes. Harry swallows, his throat suddenly dry
because he feels as though he is walking a tightrope. One wrong step, and
he will plummet to the bottom, Louis not coming with him. He feels like he
has almost made it to the other side, the real Louis waiting for him there. He
just needs to tread carefully, each move either being a step forward, a step
back, or a complete fuck up that he won’t be able to recover from. This
seems like it could either be a huge fuck up, or a step forward. Harry takes a
breath, praying to a made up God that he doesn’t lose his balance.
“Who’s fault is that?” Harry smirks at Louis, his heart beating rapidly
because he isn’t sure how Louis is going to take his next comment. When
Louis opens his mouth to answer, Harry doesn’t give him a chance, plowing
on, almost nonchalantly. “Oh yeah. It’s God’s fault. Funny how he doesn’t
care about children going to school while hungry, but where people put
their cocks is high on his priority list.” Harry knows it is a bit of a low blow,
but it is necessary for Louis to see the issues here. He is hoping that it will
jog Louis’ memory about how Harry used to go to school without food.
Maybe Louis will begin to remember everything that lead him to Harry, that
brought them together.
Louis’ mouth is open in a small ‘o’, but he isn't’ running away screaming. If
anything, he looks as if he is thinking. Maybe Harry didn’t overstep some
invisible line. Maybe Harry isn’t currently falling into the canyon below,
having lost all of his progress. He would surely die if he hit the bottom.
Harry takes a breath, stepping closer to Louis, getting into his personal
space. He is pleasantly surprised to note that Louis doesn’t step away,
instead looks up at him through his ridiculously long eyelashes. He can
smell the familiar scent of Louis’ shampoo, and Harry wants to close his
eyes and inhale deeply, instead he looks down, allowing a smirk to take
over his face. “I personally think God is a bit of a spoiled sport.” Harry adds
a wink for good measure.
“Seems to be that way,” Louis responds, with a smile of his own, and Harry
almost fucking chokes. He wants to shout his progress from the rooftops
with an overly dramatic fist pump. He somehow refrains, instead allowing
his eyebrows to hit his hairline with the comment. Louis doesn’t say
anything else, just walks past Harry and back towards his sisters. They run
to him, and Harry watches Louis cover a flinch when Phoebe hugs him.
Fizzy is smiling, but it doesn't reach her eyes. It is then that Harry realizes
just how broken their family has become. Harry wants to help mend it, so
he smiles and jogs toward the others.
They spend the next half an hour playing touch football, the younger girls
giggling with glee when they each make a touchdown for their team, the
older players pretending to try to catch them. Louis is starting to smile
more, but it still hasn’t quite reached his eyes yet. They decide it is the last
play of the game, Louis’ team having the ball. When Fizzy hands if off to
him, and Louis takes off in a sprint, Harry makes an executive decision. He
runs after him, pumping his arms willing himself to run faster, using his
long legs to catch up to Louis’ shorter stride. When he gets close enough he
dives, his body making contact with Louis’ soft curvy one.
Louis groans as he is tackled to the ground, looking panicked for a split

second as Harry looks down on him straddling his hips. The look of alarm
disappears from Louis’ features, as if realizing that it is Harry and not
someone else. Harry has the strongest urge to bend down and kiss him.
Harry always thought that Louis belonged outside, and now he looks extra
lovely laying on the grass below Harry, the green surrounding his head like
nature’s version of a halo. Harry’s mind finds the creekbank that the fucked
on when Louis asked him to prom, the way Louis’ moans mingled with the
sound of the water flowing next to them.
“No tackling,” Louis says, and Harry can’t make out his tone. He isn’t sure
if he is upset or happy about their current predicament.
“Ah ah ah. I believe the rules stated no tickling, and I’m not tickling you,
yet,” Harry reasons, smirk firmly in place.
“You’re the one that’s ticklish,” Louis shoots back, a small smile playing on
his firm lips. Fuck. Not kissing Louis is the hardest thing Harry has ever
had to do, instead he grinds his hips down. Louis’ mouth opens in a small
‘o’ before he bites his lips, as if trying to suppress a groan. He can’t,
however, suppress what Harry can clearly feel pressing against his own
cock. Louis is hard, and Harry suddenly feels the need to rejoice to
whatever God is responsible for a hard on. Probably one in the Roman
pantheon. They loved to fuck, afterall.
“Oh I see you remembered,” Harry says, laughing as he cocks his head to
the side. He bites his lips when Louis bucks up a little, rubbing their
erections together even more. A public park where Louis’ family is only a
few yards away from them is not the time or place for this, but Harry’s can’t
find it him to complain. Louis’ eyes are blown, his breath smelling of
tobacco. He is clearly turned on, and Harry seconds that, his own cock
becoming harder by the second. More blood rushing south every time Louis
bites his lips or bats his ridiculously long eyelashes.
“How could I forget?” Louis asks, and the next thing Harry’s notices are
Louis’ small hands digging into his rib cage. Harry automatically rolls off
of Louis laughing and attempting to protect himself. Louis rolls with him,
leaning over him as he continues to tickle him relentlessly. When Harry is
breathless, begging Louis to stop, he looks up to find a wide grin on Louis’
face, finally reaching his eyes. Harry wants to cry because it is the first one
has seen there in what feels like a lifetime. His eyes are crinkled at the
corners, and he is shining brighter than the sun that is currently occupying
the sky behind him. Harry’s sudden shortness of breath has nothing to do
with the tickling and everything to do with the beautiful boy hovering
above him.
“I don’t know. It seems you’ve forgotten a lot of things,” Harry responds to

Louis’ previous question, not being able to keep the sadness from his tone.
His voice is quiet as he looks up at Louis. The other boy’s smile fades,
being replaced by something resembling dejection, and Harry kind of hates
himself for the comment. It’s true though, so he isn’t sure he regrets it. He
just didn’t mean to make Louis’ sad. It wasn’t his intention, more of an
afterthought. For once he said something without thinking. His head snaps
up at the sound of someone clearing their throat, finding Lottie looking
down at them with an amused smile.
“Oh yeah. We should get going,” Harry says, getting out from under Louis
as much as it displeases him. He reaches a hand down, grabbing Louis’
without thinking to pull him up. Louis pulls his hand away quickly, and
Harry cringes when he thinks that Louis was about to wipe it on his shorts,
as if to clean away the gay. He doesn't though, and Harry is thankful.
Maybe it’s not too late. “Do you want a ride with us Lou? No sense in you
walkin’. I have to go back that way to drop the girls off anyways.”
“Um… Yeah sure,” Louis responds, watching Phoebe and Daisy go and
retrieve what they had used for goal posts. Harry is surprised Louis agreed
that easily, but doesn’t question it. They begin walking in the direction of
the vehicle Harry drove. Louis stops walking when he see where they are
heading, his mouth open in shock. “You’re in mom’s van?
“Yeah. It’s easier than moving the booster seats and stuff to my car every
time. I usually just walk to your house on Sundays anyways then walk
home afterwards,” Harry explains with a shrug, Lottie and Fizzy already
working to help strap the younger girls in. Louis climbs into the front seat
while Harry takes the driver's seat, feeling suddenly nervous with Louis in
the car. He should be used to it, since Louis taught him to drive.
“Thanks for inviting me to play,” Louis acknowledges once they are on the
road. He says it so quietly, Harry is almost sure he would have missed it if
he wasn’t so attuned to Louis at this point.
“I’m glad you did. They miss you, you know," Harry tells him just as
quietly, not wanting the rest of the passengers to overhear what he is saying.
He glances over at Louis, who seems to be deep in thought again. Harry
almost reaches over to hold his hand but refrains, quietly waiting to hear
what ever Louis plans to say.
“I miss them, too,” Louis admits after a while, and Harry’s heart breaks
from the pain in those four words. He hopes that Louis will stop distancing
himself now. That Louis now sees the error in what those people said to
him. The girls weren’t swallowed whole by the Earth, taken into Hell as
soon as they touched Louis. Nothing bad happened, and he really hopes
Louis was able to see that. Louis should be around them. He is a great big
brother, and they love him so much. Harry understands the adoration
younger siblings have for their older ones. He thought Gemma hung the
moon at one point.
“I think I might-- umm-- I think I might ask Liam to talk to the coach and
see if that running back starting position is still open. I’ve missed it,” Louis
says next, and Harry has to consciously arrange his face into a neutral
expression. If he acts as happy as he is about it, it could potentially make
Louis not want to do it. The closer Louis gets to his old life, the more Harry
believes he is pulling him back. He is breaking down each notion those
people instilled in him one by one until he finds his way to Louis’ heart.
“I think that is a great idea. I’m sure they will be lucky to have you on the
team. You were the best running back in the state last year.” Harry allows
the pride he feels for Louis to be laced into the words. He still doesn't like
sports and finds them stupid, but he is still very proud of Louis’
accomplishments when it comes to them. He also can’t deny how much he
enjoyed watching Louis play. He even attended a few baseball games with
Niall last year, wanting to be supportive to Louis. He read through most of
them, but that is neither here nor there.
“I may suck now. I haven't played in so long,” Louis admits his voice sad
and distant. He is not looking at Harry, blue eyes trained on the road as if he
is deep in thought. Harry isn’t used to this insecure version of Louis. He
doesn't really know what to do with it, so he just does what Louis did for
him when he was insecure.
“You suck at a lot of things, Lou, and I never complained however football
was never one of them,” Harry says with a chuckle. Louis laughs as well,
the sound high and musical. Harry wants to write a song to the tune. It is the
most beautiful thing he has ever heard, and he wants to hear if for the rest of
his fucking life. He just needs to convince Louis that what they have is real.
It’s not the Devil’s work. It’s not a choice. Harry parks the car in the
driveway, turning towards Louis. “Do you want some help getting the girls
inside? Doesn’t look like Jay is home yet.”
“Nah. I think I got it. I’ll watch them until she gets back,” Louis responds,
looking back at his sisters. Harry smiles at him, pride filling his chest. Louis
wants to be around them again, and Harry is beyond happy about this new
development. It’s not a declaration of love to Harry. It’s not a renouncement
of faith, but it is a small acceptance of himself. It means that Harry was able
to deconstruct one more thoughts placed into Louis’ head by the camp. It's
another step. Louis is finally walking.
Chapter End Notes
Next chapter is going to be fun. Buckle up babes!
Blasphemy
Chapter Summary
Just read it... trust me

Chapter Notes
WARNING!!! This chapter may be offensive to some people. At this
point, f you have made it this far into the story, then you should be
fine, but I just needed to say it! I love the chapter a lot, and I hope that
it is everything you have been waiting for.
This chap may also be triggering for some people. If you survived 28,
then you can survive this one I think.

them.
It makes no sense but it must be right
The blood and sweat you sacrificed
Was it all for nothing
'Cause you found no sign and see no light
We hear no voice when we pray at night
But we swore and now it's too late to turn back- Bring me the Horizon
Louis hates himself, but he is actually searching for Harry. Well, he is

telling himself that he is, in fact, not looking for Harry, but he is. He should
really stop lying to himself, but lying is so much easier than confronting the
truth. Ever since his dream, followed by his afternoon at the park, Louis has
somehow felt even more confused. After Harry left he spent some time with
his sisters, but it was only about half an hour before his mom returned.
Since then, he has gone back to mostly ignoring them. Everytime he thinks
about talking to them, he remembers what Adam said and thinks it’s better
to be safe than sorry. Then Harry’s voice starts arguing with Adam’s and
leads Louis to more confusion. It feels like an endless cycle.
He is also still very much hung up on that damn dream, and what it meant.
He never really believed that dreams were trying to tell a person something,
but he felt that this one was. He just isn’t sure what. He just has a feeling,
deep inside of his heart, that it is his subconscious mind trying to both
process events and tell him something. It could only be one of two things.
The first possibility is to trust Harry and to choose him, and that Harry will
keep him safe and make things clear. The other one is that the Devil is
trying to lead him astray again, planting the dream in his subconscious as a
way to do just that. He is just having trouble deciding which scenario is the
truth. His mind feels completely scattered, each thought leading him in a
different direction with more questions than answers. He just wants some
peace. He feels like he is losing his sanity, barely hanging on.
Right now, though, he is looking for Harry because he has some news for
the other boy. His first thought was to tell Harry, so he is trusting his
instincts, even though it could be wrong. Well it is most definitely wrong.
He will just beg for forgiveness later, but how much longer will that
actually work? He is just really excited, and slightly nervous because he
decided to join the football team, and tonight he is going to start in his first
game. It’s a rare Friday night football game and homecoming, which makes
Louis so nervous he could throw up. He feels rusty, but the coach seems to
think he is ready. He looks down at his phone, noting that he needs to be at
the field in exactly two hours.
He wants to see if Harry and Niall plan to attend, you know, for moral
support and all of that. So it’s not just Harry he is looking for. He just
knows they usually hang out together. The campus is relatively small, so
Louis has just been wandering around but decides he will go and check the
library next. Harry is usually there when he is on campus and not in class.
Not that Louis would know. He doesn't. When Louis found out he was
going to play, his first reaction was to text Harry, but then he realized that
he doesn't have Harry’s number saved in his new phone, rightfully so. He
knows he needs to stay away from him, but he has been having a very
difficult time doing so. Maybe it is the Devil that is forcing Louis to find
Harry in the present moment, but shouldn’t God be able to stop him? God
certainly hasn’t stopped anything else, so why should this be any different?
Louis is almost at the entrance of the library when he spots dark curls
shining in the sunlight, streaked with a lovely shade of caramel. Louis can’t
stop his eyes from tracing the lean contours of Harry’s body, a black
Slipknot shirt depicting an image that Louis can only describe as satanic, is
clinging to his shoulders and chest. Louis knows that band, has even
enjoyed some of their songs with Harry on occasion, however, Louis
doesn’t allow himself to listen to that kind of music anymore. Louis’ eyes
travel down to find Harry’s long legs clad in the tightest pair of black
skinny jeans Louis has ever seen on a human. Louis swallows, snapping his
eyes back up before his dick gets other ideas.
Louis freezes in that moment, his heart feeling as though it forgot how to
beat because he realizes that Harry is with someone. A boy, specifically one
that Louis does not recognize. He is tall, standing a few inches above Harry.
He has dark hair, and he is touching Harry on the arm, a large smile on his
face. He too is wearing dark clothes, several tattoos littering his skinny
arms. He looks like the complete opposite of Louis in every way, right
down to his nose ring and gauged ears. Harry is laughing at whatever the
Jolly Goth Giant is saying, and Louis feels sick.
Louis doesn't know why he has the sudden urge to rip the guy’s head from
his neck. He doesn’t understand where the impulse to scream at him has
come from, but it isn’t going away. Louis tries to tell himself that Harry is a
free man. He can hang out, and laugh, with whomever he pleases, but just
the other day Harry had been flirting with him. Adam said that gay people
are shallow and frivolous. That they go from one person to another without
any feelings attached, and, at the time, Louis thought he was wrong. He
can’t keep those thoughts from seeping into his mind now, the familiar
feeling of doubt taking root in his brain once more. If Harry really cared
about him, then why would he be with this guy?
Louis knows that, logically, he shouldn’t be upset with Harry. This is
supposed to be a good thing. Harry is moving on, and furthermore he may
actually leave Louis alone to work on his relationship with God. He should
be elated. He should be praising God that Harry will no longer be pursuing
him, but instead, he feels like he has been stabbed in the heart, the blade
twisting each time Harry laughs with the unknown man that looks like he
walked straight out of the Build-A-Lurch Workshop. Louis isn’t sure what
to do with his battling emotions. A part of him wants to turn and walk away,
knowing that he is finally free of Harry. That Harry has found someone
else, and he can go live his life of sin with that person.
Another part of Louis, the larger part, wants to run up to Harry and claim
him as his. He wants to tell him that he loves him. He wants Harry to hold
him in his arms until the confusion ends and the world is quiet once more.
He wants to hold his hand and drop down on his knees to suck his dick. He
wants to pray to Harry, like Gods deserve. When the extra from Slender
Man bends down, wrapping Harry in a hug with his long creepy arms,
Harry doesn’t even flinch, and Louis can’t take it anymore. His whole body
is shaking, and he is desperately blinking back tears that try to escape. He
turns and runs. It’s the last straw. The one that broke the camel's back, and
Louis can’t breathe. Too much. It’s all too much. He doesn’t understand any
of it. All he can see is that man’s arms wrapped around Harry while Harry
just fucking smiles.
His eyes dart around looking for somewhere he can go to escape from this
reality through his blurry vision. He can’t do this anymore. He can’t live
like this anymore. God isn’t healing him. He still has urges. He will never
be let into Heaven. He has proven as much with his continuous sinning and
unholy desires. He isn’t strong enough, so what’s the point anymore? He
can’t. He just cannot continue to live this way because he isn’t living. He
isn’t even existing. He has lost himself, and he doesn’t think he will ever
find that person again. So he runs and luckily stumbles upon an old
abandoned church. Church is exactly what he needs right now. Somewhere
holy. Somewhere that has God’s presence permeating through the
floorboards and the walls, all around him, so that he is surrounded by him.
Maybe then he won’t feel this way. Maybe there, he will no longer have
these thoughts about Harry.
The door is open, so Louis slips in, praying that Harry didn’t see him or
follow him. It is somewhat dark, the light filtering through the broken
stained glass windows serving as the only illumination, casting the room in
a kaleidoscopic hues of colors. The pews are old, dusty and worn, some
even falling apart from age and disuse. The place smells musty, and Louis
briefly wonders when the last person set foot in here. Were they as tainted
as him? Were they as confused and lost? Were they looking for salvation?
Did they even find it? His feet echo across the creaking floorboards as he
slowly makes his way down the middle aisle, towards the small altar with a
rugged cross embedded into the front.
Louis falls to the ground in front of it, knees hitting the floor with an
echoing thump his body taken over by harsh sobs. “God please. I’m
begging you, please. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be what you want me
to be. Harry says that you’re not real. Please give me some sort of proof that
you are! I need something! I’m falling back! I’m falling to him, and I can’t.
Not after everything! It can’t all have been for nothing,” Louis begs, his
voice wrecked from his cries. He feels hopeless. He begins tearing at his
skin with blunt fingernails, needing his body to reflect the internal anguish
in his heart.
He waits for something, anything, from God that tells him he is there. That
all of this is worth it. Some sort of sign. Like a candle lighting by itself, or
water coming from the cross. It could be small. It doesn't have to be grand,
he just needs proof. He holds his breath, looking at his surroundings
through bleary eyes, but nothing occurs. There is no devine voice soothing
him. There is no comforting presence around him. He just feels empty and
hollow, nothing there to fill him so that he may be whole again. No saving
grace. No eternal love from a higher power. Nothing. What is he doing
wrong?
“God, just give me a sign. I need to know that you’re there. That Harry isn’t
right, and that I’m not fighting him for nothing. Fuck. Kill me. Stop my
heart. Prove to me that you are real because I don’t know what to believe
anymore. I’m begging you. Just kill me. I can’t do this anymore! I can’t be
in this body! You’re not healing me like they said you would!” Louis cries,
more tears streaming down his face. He looks around, and his eyes find a
shard of stained glass laying a few feet from him. It’s dirty and dusty, but
Louis moves to pick it up and inspect it. He looks down at his arm, finding
the red marks from his own fingernails. They don’t even hurt. They are
nothing compared to what he actually feels inside, the confusion digging so
deep he can’t breathe.
“Am I not enough? Can you not love me? I just want to feel something
again! Please God, please! Just do it. End me! I can’t live this life anymore,
and if I kill myself then I will just go to Hell anyway. I mean, at this point,
why does it fucking matter? I can’t control myself or my urges. I can’t be
who you want me to be! I may as well just get it over with, right? So just
prove to me that you exist by stopping my heart because it beats for a man.
A man that isn't you. A man I'm not supposed to love or even want to be
near. It beats for Harry and it’s not fucking fair!” Louis screams at the cross,
every bit of energy he has draining out of him with each new word. He
looks down at the shard of glass in his left hand, then brings it to his arm.
He just needs to feel. He just needs to know that he isn’t a ghost or a shell.
That when he cuts his arm blood will seep out and not dust from his
forgotten soul.
“It’s not fair! You’re supposed to love me. You made me this way, and now
you’re sending me to Hell for it. Did the Devil make me this way? If he did,
then why the fuck did you let him? If you are all powerful and all knowing
then how could you let this happen? Why did you fucking damn me? I’m
not strong enough. I can’t resist. What if he’s right? What if you are the bad
one? What if you’re evil, and I am trying to give my life to you?” Louis
asks, his raspy voice echoing off the empty walls. He looks down, pressing
the glass into his skin. He hisses, scrunching his eyes tightly as it cuts his
skin open. After a moment, he peers down to see red blood welling from the
self inflicted wound. Louis hates it. He hates seeing it because he was sure
that he was hollow. That he had nothing human left inside of him.
“God, please. Just tell me why? Why do you hate me? What did I do to
deserve this? I tried to be better. I tried to resist. I tried to believe and have
faith in you, but you just threw it in my fucking face. You won’t even give
me a fucking sign that you’re here, that you want me to continue down this
path. I don’t even know where it fucking leads other than to my death. I
hate myself. I don’t know who I am anymore, and it’s your fucking fault.
He says you’re not real…” The words end in a sob as Louis pushes the
glass deeper, slicing. He still doesn’t feel it though. All he knows are
hopelessness and desperation, the bite of the glass not even halting the
endless questions racing through his mind at light speed never cease.
“Louis.” A deep voice makes Louis jump. It’s not the voice of God like
Louis had been expecting, hoping for. No. It’s a voice that haunts every
moment of Louis' life, in both conscious and sleep. It’s the voice of his
damnation, and Louis hates himself even more for being comforted by it.
He turns his face, finding Harry’s green eyes shining in the light, taking
careful steps towards his kneeling form. Harry isn’t bothering to cover the
concerned expression that mars his features, and that only serves to make
Louis cry harder.
“Fuck off,” Louis spits, wanting to be left alone in his misery. He looks
back down at his arm, the blood dripping onto the altar like some sort of
sick sacrifice to a God that has forgotten him. He wants to continue what he
started. He wants to end this. He can’t handle the confusion anymore, the
hopelessness. He doesn't care about Hell as a punishment because it cannot
possibly be any worse than this. Any worse than living every single day
around the one person he wants more than anything but can’t have. If God
doesn’t have the balls to end his life then he will simply have to do it
himself because he is done. He can’t continue on like this. He can’t be what
God wants him to be, so the only way that he can see this ever ending, is
with his death. He just hopes he can be forgiven. At the very least his sisters
will be safe. They will finally be free from his corrupting influence on
them.
“Louis. This isn’t the answer,” Harry says, falling to his knees beside Louis.
He doesn’t try to take the glass from his hand though, nor does he touch
him. Louis just looks at him, confused as to why Harry even followed him
to begin with. Why would he want to? He has done nothing but try to push
Harry away, to reject him, after all they have been through. He has done it
in the name of a God who wouldn't even reveal himself to Louis. He wants
to scamper away from him, weilding a cross in defense, but it would do
little good. Harry walked through the doors of a church and did not burst
into flames. If he were the Devil, then how was that possible?
“Then what is the answer? Because I don’t fucking know! I can’t do this
anymore, Harry. I can’t!” Louis screams, but Harry doesn’t even flinch.
Louis curls in on himself then, hitting his head with his free hand, trying to
make the questions stop. To get everything to just stop. Blissful silence is
all he craves, but he never gets it. Maybe he will when he kills himself. It’s
the only option because right now all he gets are the voices of his past,
telling him who he should be. He thought he knew. He thought he had it
figured out, but the counselors felt differently. He only stops hitting his
head when he feels a large, warm hand circle his wrist, the ringed fingers
feeling as though they are branding his flesh. As if holy water has touched
something evil, but Louis doesn't even try to pull away. He allows Harry to
bring his arm down without objection, not enough energy left in him to put
up a fight.
“Make it stop! Please! Just make it stop! I need it to stop!” Louis begs, his
breath now coming out in sharp, short huffs, his body shaking with each
new sob. He can scarcely see Harry through his tears, barely able to make
out his features through the fog that has taken up a permanent residence
around Louis' existence. He can’t see through it. He doesn't know what’s on
the other side. He is tired of living like this. He doesn't know how to change
it because everything he has tried isn't working. It only makes him more
confused.
“Are you asking me or God?” There is no joking quality to Harry’s voice,

no smirk on his lips with the question. He’s serious. Louis’ breathing
becomes more ragged because that is a good fucking question. He doesn't
know. He doesn’t know anything right now. He doesn't know who he is or
how he got here. He doesn't know why Harry is here or why he went to
camp. He doesn’t know if going to camp was a good thing or a bad thing.
He doesn’t know left from right or up from down or good from evil. He just
doesn’t know, and that is the hardest part of all of this. It’s as if God only
built him to fall. He feels as though something heavy is sitting on his chest,
perhaps a demon, perhaps it’s guilt or anxiety. Maybe it's all the above.
Either way, he can’t fucking breathe.
“Baby. Baby. You need to calm down. You need to breathe for me. Please?”
Harry’s voice breaks through Louis’ haze, and he feels a warm, sure hand
on his chest, placed directly over his rapidly beating heart. Why is Harry
calling him baby? They are in a church. It’s wrong. Harry shouldn’t be
calling him baby or soothing him. Louis tries to breathe, pleading words
tumbling from his lips with each gulp of air. Begging anyone who so
happens to be listening just to let him die, to let the confusion flow from his
body with his blood. It’s the only way.
“I can’t.” Louis knows he sounds like a broken record. His mind is

spinning, but Harry is somehow staying in one place, the only constant.
Then he remembers what brought him to this moment to begin with. He
remembers Harry smiling and laughing with another boy as he bent to hug
Harry. The boy that is the complete opposite of Louis in every possible way,
and he feels sick all over again, bile rising in his throat. Louis, in a moment
of rage, throws the piece of glass in his hand at the wall behind the altar,
watching as it shatters on impact, the noise not able to suppress the sound of
blood rushing to Louis’ ears. Harry barely even flinches, his green eyes
trained on Louis. Louis needs to make him leave. He needs to find another
piece of fucking glass and finish what he started before Harry has a chance
to talk him out of it.
“Louis. Please. Talk to me,” Harry begs, and Louis scampers away from
him, his back hitting the altar. He shakes his head, hair getting caught in the
splinters of the old, rotting wood, feeling like pin pricks on his scalp. Harry
is still on his knees, looking at Louis with big sad eyes. Louis almost wishes
Harry would mask his emotions like he used to because this feels like it is
too much, as if Louis’ heart is being torn in two. Why is Harry sad? He was
happy with that guy just moments ago. Why does Harry care if he ends it
all? He has clearly moved on from Louis. Not that Louis could really blame
him. He is broken, beyond that even. He isn’t able to be saved now, by
either God or Harry, past the point of no return from the hellish swirl of
constant confusion and anguish that is now his life.
“Why don’t you go talk to Jack Skellington and leave me alone to pray.”
Louis’ voice is raised, but steady, a stark contrast to the universe around
him. The rage in his veins is growing like the rapidly rising tide on
turbulent seas, swallowing the panic that was there with one great gulp.
Images of Harry with the Pumpkin King, flash through Louis’ mind, the
way he didn’t even flinch when he was touched by him. The way Harry
fucking laughed, his dimples carving into his cheeks to frame his wide
smile like the art it is, in a way that Louis thought only happened for him.
Louis tells himself he is not jealous. He’s not. He is just slowly realizing
that Harry probably never actually cared for him in the first place, just like
Adam said. Realizing that Harry is and always has been better at hiding his
emotions, masking them and plastering on a fake facade necessary for
whatever situation he is thrown into. Did he ever really care for Louis at
all? Probably not. That was probably the biggest facade of them all. A
mask. A way to pull Louis down into the depths of his depravity, so that he
didn’t have to walk this Earth alone as a sinner doomed to the pits of Hell
for eternity.
Harry looks hurt for a second after his outburst, and Louis wants to be
happy about it. He should be happy that he hurt him, but the pang that
shoots through his chest is telling him otherwise. Louis never liked hurting
Harry, and when he found out he had in the past, it almost killed him. He
has hurt Harry twice now, that he knows of. Once was a miscommunication
and the second time was out of his control, but he meant to hurt Harry this
time. He just needs him to understand. Once the initial hurt fades away,
Harry’s brows draw in confusion. “Jack who?” He asks, gesturing with his
hands.
“That guy you were just with! Adam was right! You never cared about me!
You were just looking for someone to push your sick lifestyle on, and I was
the idiot that fell for all of your tricks and lies!” Louis screams, standing up
from his spot at the altar, the anger in his body rising with him. Harry looks
stunned for a moment, mouth open as if he wasn’t expecting Louis’
outburst. Louis is breathing heavily now, not even noticing that his arm has
continued to bleed, a crimson trail ending at his fingertips where its has
started to make dark abstract patterns on the dusty floor.
“Nick? Louis, you have the wrong idea. Nick is just a friend from my Calc
class. He missed last week’s lectures and borrowed my notes. He was so
grateful that he gave me a hug. He needs to pass the class. It meant nothing.
He is just a friend,” Harry says, his voice calm despite the fire in his eyes.
He gets to his feet as well, but makes no moves towards Louis, even though
he can tell that Harry wants to by the way his fingers twitch at his sides.
Louis begins shaking his head, not wanting to believe Harry even for a
second. He doesn’t want to give Harry the chance to feed him more lies, so
he tries to keep Adam’s voice in his head firm. He keeps everything that he
went through in therapy to use as a reminder. All of the pain and anger,
anything to give him the courage to say what he needs to say. To end this
once and for all.
“Don’t lie to me! I should have known you weren’t different. You’re just
like every other abomination on this Godforsaken Earth. A scourge on
humanity. You have no actual feelings. You just want to fuck anyone with a
pulse. You’ve been trying for months to get me back. To have me under
your control again, and when you realized I wasn’t going to take the bait
anymore, you decided to find someone else who would. You were probably
fucking him all along while trying to persuade me into bed. Does he believe
in God, too? Are you trying to convince him of your ways? It’s all a sick
game to you isn’t it? To mess with our beliefs, trying to persuade us to be
like you. To be an atheist and a sinner. Do you get some sick satisfaction
out of twisting the Lord’s word? Out of making us believe that what you are
saying is true, and for what? All so that you can get your fucking dick
sucked. I hope I was worth it, Harry. Are you happy now? This is what
happens to people like me when they believe the lies of people like you!”
Louis spits, the questions coming out harsh.
He is breathing heavily, his chest heaving with it, his eyes stinging with the
tears of months worth of pent up anger, frustration and mind numbing
confusion. He is just so fucking confused by everything. He doesn’t know
who is telling him the truth, and who is lying. He wants to scream, so he is.
Harry just so happens to be the unlucky person on the receiving end of it
all. It’s probably a good thing, then maybe Harry will finally understand.
Harry sways, as if the words physically hit him, like a wrecking ball
colliding with a concrete wall. Good. Louis wonders for a brief moment if
he meant them. They sound hauntingly similar to some of the things Adam
said to him, so he isn’t sure if they are his own or just words that were put
there by someone else. He doesn't even know who he is anymore. He isn’t
sure if his thoughts are his own, and that is what scares him the most. That
is why he is here, screaming at Harry in a dusty old church, watching his
features morph into pain at Louis’ words.
“I’m not lying! I don’t care about him. If I actually gave any sort of flying
fuck about him, then why would I be in here, listing to you scream at me for
being gay? Why would I have followed you into a place of fucking worship
to watch you cut yourself with a dirty piece of glass? Why would I stand
here and let you say horrible things about me simply because I am attracted
to people with cocks? The answer is that I fucking wouldn’t. If I’m really
this fucking demonic man you claim me to be, then I wouldn’t have
followed you in here and stood here while you fucking berated me. I came
here because I care about you. I love you! I have for months now! I don’t
know when exactly it happened, but I know I feel it with every single
fucking breath I take. I love you,” Harry says, and he almost sounds
defeated with the words, but he is looking at Louis with an intensity that
physically hurts Louis’ damned soul.
Does Harry have a point? If he really didn’t care then why would he be in
here? Why would he have followed Louis in here? If he had really moved
on to some other poor, unsuspecting man, then would he have really left
that person to run after Louis? Wouldn’t he have been happy to see Louis
cutting, wanting to end his life? Wasn’t his goal to take Louis to hell, and
everyone knows that suicide will get you there faster than almost anything?
Louis starts hitting his head again, hoping that he can dislodge some of the
questions. He freezes when Harry’s final confession sinks in, and Louis
really wants to die now. It feels like time stands still and all noise is
canceled out, almost as though the very universe understands the magnitude
of Harry’s proclamation. Harry said he loved him? What? Months ago,
Louis would have been overjoyed. He would have said it back in a
heartbeat, but now his heart isn’t even beating. Anger rises in Louis then
because no.
“Fuck off with that shit! You can’t love me! Adam says it’s just an
infatuation. You can’t love a man because it’s unholy and against nature.
It’s a sin, Harry! You will go to Hell and take me and my sisters with you.
You can’t say that to me! Not now. Not after everything. It’s against God!
You can’t love me! You probably don’t even know what love is. Adam was
right. They were all right. How could I have ever been so stupid? How
could I honestly have believed that maybe they were wrong? They weren’t!
The only thing wrong here is you!” Louis yells, his hands balled into fists,
more tears breaking through the dam and streaming down his face.
Harry’s features go stony, but his eyes are what scares Louis. Maybe he is
the Devil, because the flames of Hell are reflecting in his green irises. He
has never seen a look in his eyes like this before. He is normally cool and
collected, never even flinching during their many and varied discussions
about God and the Bible, but now, Louis sees fire. Harry is seething. He has
never seen Harry angry, but Louis is angry, too. He is angry at Harry for
doing this to him, for being the cause of Louis going to camp. Harry takes a
single step towards him, and Louis wants to cower. If he had any sense left
in him at all, he would, but he holds his ground. He feels he is justified in
his anger and in his words. He isn’t backing down this time.
“You don’t get to tell me how to feel,” Harry spits, his voice sounding more
like a growl than Louis has ever heard it. He is pointing a single ringed
finger in Louis’ direction, and his heart stutters for a split second. “You
don’t get to make that fucking decision for me. I know what love is Louis. I
feel it with my entire fucking being. Love is pain. Love is agony. Love is
feeling as though your heart is missing from your body when the person
you love is gone. You don’t even know how your body is still functioning,
but it somehow is, even though you don’t have a fucking heart beat. Love is
love, Louis. It doesn't matter if it is between a woman and a man, a woman
and a woman, or a man and a man. It feels the same across the entire
fucking spectrum. Love is standing here, watching someone crumble, and
still wanting to help them because seeing them so fucking broken only
serves to break you as well.”
Harry isn’t yelling. His tone is calm, calculated even. His eyes reflect the
raging storm that is swirling inside of him, but on the outside he is the calm
in a storm. One that you don’t even realize is happening until the eye passes
over you and everything for miles, as far as the eye can see, is destroyed.
His voice doesn’t waver, and he takes another step, slow and measured.
Louis doesn’t even know how to process what Harry has just said. He gets
it. He didn’t know how he made it through camp without Harry those first
few weeks, that was until the doubt took root in his brain, bringing the
confusion with it.
“But Adam…” Louis responds weakly, looking around the room for some
type of reassurance. He thought he loved Harry, but then he wasn’t sure
because they told him what he was feeling wasn’t love. How was he
supposed to know, though? He had never been in love, however, what Harry
just described was exactly how he felt throughout camp and the night Harry
told him his story. He watched Harry’s face crumble, crushed under the
weight of the memories, and Louis felt every single one of them. His body
ached for Harry’s. His body hurt for everything he had been through. He
felt like he had experienced it. Was that love? Was that infatuation? Who
the fuck is lying to him?
“Adam can fuck right off. That is complete and utter bullshit Louis, and I
know that you know it. I don’t know who the fuck he is or what he told you,
but he is a fucking moron,” Harry adds, not allowing Louis any time to
reply. He can’t anyways. His mind is spinning, and he is so fucking dizzy,
he doesn’t know where he is. He tries to focus on Harry, who still looks
silently angry, one hand balled into a fist, the other hand with a long finger,
still pointing to Louis, almost accusing. Louis flinches again, but Harry
continues, “You don’t get to tell me how to feel, Louis. You and your
fucking God do not get to dictate that to me. Only I get to say how I feel,
and you can deny it all you fucking want. It isn’t going to change the way I
fucking feel.”
__________
Harry is seething. He feels like some sort of internal switch has been
flipped at Louis’ hateful words. He wants to punch every single one of
those fuckers right in the face and choke who ever this Adam guy is that
made Louis think this way. What the actual fuck? Does Louis actually
believe this shit? Did Harry lose him completely? He can’t have. He refuses
to believe that Louis is really that far gone, refuses to let go without a fight.
The time for taking it slowly with baby steps is long gone. If Harry is ever
going to save Louis from their lies and persuasion, but most importantly
from himself, then he needs to do it now.
Harry would have preferred to do it somewhere a little less creepy and a

little less biblical, but if it needs to happen in a fucking church, then so be
it. He takes another step towards Louis, his shaking body pressed against
the old altar as it bites into the skin of his back. He doesn’t move away even
though he looks almost frantic. Harry wonders if he realizes he is crying, if
he even notices the blood on his arm from the glass. Harry knows he didn’t
when he broke. He barely remembers it, he was so drunk. Most of it is just
fragments, as if he is watching a movie from a shattered film, some scenes
broken, others missing all together. Louis isn’t drunk though. He may
actually remember this, and Harry can’t decide if that is good or bad.
“Need I remind you, Louis, that you started this between us. You pursued
me. I was a fucking virgin when we met. If I were really the Devil in
disguise, then wouldn’t I have tried to get you from the beginning?
Wouldn’t I have seduced you with my curls or whatever bullshittery they
tried to get you to believe? I did none of those things. I even tried to push
you away. I told you to stop. I told you I wasn’t worth it, but you wouldn’t
take no for an answer. You started this! You wanted this, and I think deep
down inside, you still do,” Harry says, still continuing his slow walk
towards him. Louis’ long eyelashes are wet with tears, clinging to his
cheeks every time he blinks. Harry can almost make out each individual
drop as they fall down his cheeks, the light shining on them to make the
freckles refract, obscuring them.
“Well I saw the light!” Louis yells, and Harry can almost feel Louis’ breath
on his face. The light? Is he fucking kidding? There is no light, and Louis
needs to stop begging to it. Louis is the light. He is everything good and
pure. He is the only fucking person in the universe that was able to
illuminate the darkness in Harry’s world and make him see that it isn’t so
bad. Harry had learned to live without it again while Louis was in that
camp. Even though he learned to live without it, he really doesn't want to.
There isn’t a fucking point. That would be like living through life with
fucking sunglasses on. He wants his light back, and damn it, he is going to
fight for him with everything he has.
“The light?” Harry asks, with a deep humorless chuckle, “If you saw the
light then you let it fucking blind you. You say that I’m an abomination, a
scourge on the Earth. Okay fine. Believe what you must. If it makes you
feel better about your ‘decision’ and helps you sleep at night. If what you
truly believe is that I am nothing but a disgusting sinner, the Devil in
disguise, then you aren’t any better than me. You like cock just as much as I
do, even though you are pretending that whatever they did to you worked.
You are telling yourself that the camp took your desires away, but you and I
both know that it didn’t. It didn’t do shit. You can’t fucking pray the gay
away. No amount of ‘treatment’ will change it.” Harry’s voice is steady,
despite the fury rushing through his veins. Louis’ eyes are wide, and Harry
knows he has struck a chord. Louis is smart enough to have come to that
conclusion all on his own. Harry knows that he doesn’t want to believe it,
that ‘Adam’ and the others from camp were hellbent on making him the bad
guy.
“Do you wanna know what they did to me Harry? Do you?” Louis asks, his
voice and eyes taking on a manic quality. Harry freezes, the echo of his
slow steps dying, along with him. Does he want to know? Does he really
want to hear about all of the horrific things that Louis had to endure? Can
he handle that? He decides in a split second he is going to have to because
Louis looks as though he is about three point seven seconds away from
losing it completely. His breaths are coming out in short, sharp huffs. His
blue eyes are wild with panic, and his body is extremely tense. Harry wants
to hold him, but he needs to get Louis to snap out it first. He needs to bring
Louis back from the brink. If this is the only way, in a dirty old church, then
so be it. It is sort of poetic.
“Lou,” Harry starts, but his sentence is cut off by Louis’ voice, echoing
sharply off the empty walls. Harry flinches because Louis’ voice is so
different from the silkiness it had on the first day of school, over a year ago.
Now, though, he can’t help but think of how breathtaking Louis looks with
the rainbow of light reflecting on his face from the broken stained glass
windows, painting his freckles in beautiful red and yellow hues. It’s painful,
and Harry realizes that Louis is right. Harry understands now, there is a
special kind of beauty in something that is so broken. Louis is broken right
now, both mentally and physically, and Harry wishes he could take it all
away from him. He knows how to be broken. He can deal with being
broken, but Louis doesn’t know how. The most painful thing of all is
watching someone go through it. Watching them spiral and feeling helpless
on the sidelines.
“They took us to a special ‘aversion therapy’ room, stripped us naked and

restrained us,” Louis starts and Harry instantly feels like he has been
punched in the gut, all of the breath flying out of him at once. “They put
electrodes on our arms and any other place they figured you had touched
me, then made us watch gay porn. If we got a hardon they shocked the fuck
out of us. All I could think of in those moments was you and the sounds you
make when you’re getting off. The sight of your rings buried inside of me.
The words you murmured in my ear with your gravely fucking voice. They
didn’t just use electricity, Harry, they used heat and ice, too. Do you know
how it feels to be so fucking cold that the ice is burning you? Do you know
how it feels to pray that you don’t get turned on by the images they are
forcing you to watch? For a while, every time I thought about you, I felt
like I was being electrocuted all over again. Like some sick twisted
reminder of who and what I can’t have or be attracted to,” Louis says,
motioning down to his arm where the blood has dried a deep red.
“You don’t anymore?” Harry asks, shocked by Louis’ words. He had

assumed that aversion therapy happened to Louis, but having it confirmed
is just so fucking painful. All Harry can picture is Louis, strapped to a wall,
with his head positioned in a certain angle, screaming every time some
psycho shocked him for his body’s natural response to porn. Even the
straightest man on earth probably would have been turned on by it,
especially if they had gone without any form of sex for so long. Harry
wants to throw up. He has researched it, but reading about it and hearing
about how it happened to someone he loves are two totally different things.
How could they think this is right? How can they do this to people who
didn’t ask for it? How can they believe doing this to anyone for any reason
is right or justifiable?
“They… they… told me I was filthy for allowing you to touch me with
nature all around me,” Louis starts again, completely ignoring Harry’s
question. Harry's head is spinning. He feels like they are now talking about
a different subject completely, but he isn't sure. Nature all around? Was he
referring to the day Louis had asked him to prom? What does that have to
do with aversion therapy? Was this a different type of therapy? Is this the
one where they force you to talk about your sexual experiences in front of a
group of people? He does note, however, that Louis used past tense to
describe feeling pain at the sight of Harry. That has to be a good thing,
right? Maybe he doesn’t feel pain everytime he is turned on at the thought
of Harry anymore. Louis continues, his voice getting higher with each
syllable.
“That I should have been ashamed for letting you fuck me under my parents
roof because it was disrespectful to them and to God. I was ashamed Harry.
I was so fucking ashamed. I felt like it was burning me alive, as if the floor
had opened up, and I was actually in Hell. Some days I wished I really had
gone to Hell, because at least then I'd have known that I wasn’t alive
anymore to feel the pain. I had a dream about you, you know. They caught
me masterbating to it. After that I was forced to sleep with my hands tied to
the bed for weeks, my body ached with it. Each morning the workout
routine they forced on us was more excruciating than the last, and it’s all
because of you!” Harry continues to stand in frozen silence, trying to
process Louis’ words at lightning speed. His thoughts are all over the place,
but the only constant Harry can see, is that he still blames him for this. So
Harry does what he knows Louis can’t and continues on with logic.
“Louis, I asked you if you were sure before we ever did anything under
your parents roof. You agreed to it. You fucking wanted it. Don’t make me
the bad guy in this. Don’t let them make me into some kind of fucking
monster who prays on innocent church boys in my spare time! Those things
didn’t happen to you because of me. They happened to you because of them
and their sick twisted definition of therapy. I didn’t put you in there, Mark
fucking did. Don’t let them twist it to make you believe anything otherwise.
He did that to you, then they continued it!” Harry argues, not letting the
guilt he had before slap him in the face. He has already moved past that. He
didn’t do this to Louis, they did, and Louis needs to realize right fucking
now where to place the blame because it sure as shit isn’t on Harry.
“Mark was trying to help me! He loved me! Now he is rotting in prison
because of me and my actions,” Louis screams, hitting himself on the chest.
His mouth is slick with spit, and all Harry wants to do is kiss it. He shakes
his head, not wanting to get distracted when he thinks that he is finally
making progress with Louis, even though he is shaking with rage at his
words. What have they done to him? Where did they put his Louis because
the confused and scared boy in front of him is not the Louis that Harry
knew. Harry just wants him back. “He was trying to help me! He was trying
to protect his family from me and now he is in prison!”
“Mark didn’t love you!” Harry argues back. “If you call that love, Louis,
then you have a very fucked up definition of it. He forced you to live
through all of the torture that the camp inflicted on you. He deserves to rot
in prison. He deserves so much more. If there is a Hell, like you say there
is, then it’s people like Mark who should be sent there, not people like you
and me. Louis, he kidnapped you! He slapped your mom when she asked
where you were! Your sisters are terrified of him, and here you are, making
excuses for him? Are you fucking kidding me? Are you even listening to
yourself? Mark isn’t a good man! Mark is the sick one; he is the
abomination in all of this, not me and certainly not you,” Harry says, his
voice finally raising just a bit. Fucking Mark. Now if there was one person
in the world Harry could actually kill, it would be that bastard. Mark is at
fault for all of this. He started the chain of events that has lead them here.
“He did what to my mom?” Louis asks, his body freezing, his eyes
searching. Louis doesn’t know? How could he not know how abusive Mark
was to Jay? Louis has mentioned the verbal abuse to Harry, but he must not
have realized the physical abuse. Holy shit! Harry hates to do it, but he is
going to have to open Louis’ eyes to the kind of person Mark truly is. Louis
needs to stop looking at the bastard through rose colored glasses. This shit
has got to fucking stop. Maybe if he can get Louis to see the kind of person
Mark really is, then he will realize that believing in God doesn’t make a
person good. Sometimes, it has the opposite effect. Sometimes it makes
people hateful and sick.
“He slapped your mom for asking where you were, Louis! Your sisters
spent the rest of the time while you were in camp fearing him, not allowed
to even say your fucking name. Everytime it was even brought up, he would
start yelling at them, threatening the entire fucking family with violence. Is
this a good man? Is this the kind of man you should fucking thank? Don’t
you wonder how he knew about the camp? He is in the military, and it just
so happens that they used military brainwashing tactics on you. He was
probably involved with the leader of the camp through the channels the
military created. They tortured you with their knowledge of it,” Harry says,
then notices Louis’ skin has gone pale as he sways on his feet. He looks
sick, his eyes staring at the spot over Harry’s shoulder as if in thought.
Louis clearly hadn’t considered the possibility that the doctor who ‘treated’
him was ex military as well, but Harry has. He has done research on
brainwashing techniques too, and he feels so fucking stupid for not having
seen it before.
“Torture? That wasn’t even half of it, Harry. They…” Louis’ sentence trails
off, and Harry watches as his eyes take on that soulless, haunted quality that
scares Harry more than the Devil or any kind of threat of Hell ever could.
Harry notices that Louis didn't even comment on what Harry said about
Mark, and what he did to Jay. Denial. Louis is denial, pretending that Harry
isn't making valid points. That Harry isn't giving him someone to hate that
isn't himself. He knows that Louis will process it later. He knows that his
words didn’t go unheard. Louis just isn’t ready for them yet.
“They? They did what?” Harry prompts. He tries to keep his rising anger in
check, but it is becoming more difficult with each passing moment. Harry
isn't typically an angry person. He has never been one for violence, not after
the violence and anger that was inflicted upon him at such a young age. He
had always preferred to take the pain out on himself rather than the people
around him. Internalize it and take a blade to his flesh. This is different for
him. This is brand new, uncharted territory. This is rage. This is seething.
This is Harry wanting to watch the world fucking burn. The cruel world that
allows this shit to happen to young people every single fucking day, all in
the name of some asshole called God with a fucked up view on how people
should love one another.
“They fucking baptized me!” Louis screams, almost in anguish. His voice is
higher than Harry has ever heard it, manic and distraught. Harry’s anger
falters for a moment as he watches Louis writhe in invisible agony. He
doesn’t know what to do at this point in time other than to let Louis keep
talking. He needs to let this all out, regardless if it is killing Harry to hear it.
Harry has never been one to care about his own life and soul, and now is
not the time to change that. Harry isn’t sure what is so horrible about being
baptized though. He doesn't understand Louis’ agony on the subject, but he
waits because he has a feeling Louis is going to explain to him.
“They said it was to cleanse me, but I have never felt so dirty and used in
my entire fucking life! I felt defiled! They stripped me naked and forced me
into the creek while they sang Amazing Grace around me! I was crying! I
was begging them to stop, but they didn’t fucking stop! Why did they do
that? Why? I always thought baptism was the last step, you know?” Louis’
voice quietens then, almost reflective, and he chuckles quietly as if Harry
isn’t even there with him. As if he is trying harder to convince himself that
this is right than he is to convince Harry. “That it would be the moment I
decided to give my life to the Lord and walk a righteous path, but they took
that choice away from me,” he continues, still in that same eerily soft tone
that makes Harry shiver, the hair on his skin stand in attention.
“They dunked me in the dirty creek water over and over again, proclaimed
me to be clean,” Louis confesses between body wracking sobs, taking a few
steps toward Harry, so they are only a foot apart. His face is set in twisted
anguish, and Harry's heart feels like it has stopped all together. Baptism was
important to Louis, and he apparently saw it as the beginning of a different
life. Harry wonders what the timeline for this was. Did this happen on his
first day or did it occur later? He has the feeling that Louis isn’t telling
everything in chronological order. He understands now. He understands
why a baptism affected Louis in such a way, simply because he saw it as the
end of who he identified as.
“Do you not hear what you are saying, Louis? Yes! They did that to you!
Not me! Them. They made you feel dirty. They took your rights away. They
took away your consent. I never once did something without your consent. I
would never, ever do that to you! Don’t you see that? Don’t you see who is
the evil one in this story? They forced these things on you Louis, then
convinced you that it was for your own good. That it was in the name of
God and your salvation,” Harry insists, finally closing the gap between
them because Louis looks as though his legs are about to give way. Harry
reaches him just as his knees buckle, the smaller man collapsing in Harry’s
arms, sobbing.
“I d- didn’t want to be baptized. I didn’t want t-to leave you! I didn’t want
any...any of it-t. They f-forced me to be clean, but I don’t even know if I
was ever dirty! Was I dirty, Harry? Was I? They said I was, and that was
just… that was the beginning for me, Harry. I always wanted baptism to be
it. The moment I gave my life to Him, and they forced me to do it! I-- I…”
Louis chokes on a sob, his body shaking against Harry’s with each
shuddering breath. Harry somehow is able to keep them upright, even
though Louis’ weight is fully on him now. He feels like he can’t breathe, his
barely stitched up heart shattering all over again, but now it’s because of
Louis’ pain and not his own.
“It was just water, Louis. It meant nothing. It was just water,” Harry
whispers assuredly, running his fingers though Louis’ soft hair even though
he is somehow holding back his own tears. He wonders if Louis even
realizes that he just described this event as a survivor would describe their
rape. That thought has Harry biting his lip, willing his tears to stay exactly
where they are. Louis does not need his pity. He does not need to see Harry
so upset. He has to be strong for Louis, so he vows in that moment to hold
him for as long as it takes. Maybe it isn’t about holding Louis so firmly that
he is somehow squeezed back together, but maybe it’s more about just
holding him forever. Until his body only knows what it feels like to be
whole again. Harry will hold him forever if that’s what it takes, but then
without warning Louis is pushing at his chest firmly. Harry lets go but
doesn’t take a step back, while Louis presses his back against the altar
again, trying to move himself as far away from Harry as is humanly
possible. His eyes wide and horrified. As if he has suddenly remembered
why they are here in the first place. Shit.
“After I distracted them so that Ash could escape,” Louis continues, his
voice barely above a whisper, his eyes glazing over as if he reliving those
moments. “They caught me. I tried to run, in the direction of the camp. I
knew I would end up back there one way or the other, but I ran. Tried to
give Ash as much time to escape as I could, but they caught me eventually.
They beat the Hell out of me. They punched me and kicked me. They
ganged up on me, and all I could think of was what you must have felt like
that night. What you felt like when Logan beat you for almost the exact
same reason they were beating me, but I thought I deserved it. All I wanted
right then, Harry… All I wanted was for God to fucking kill me. I wanted
him to just twist the fucking knife because whatever they were about to put
me through was going to be Hell. He didn’t kill me, though. He didn’t
fucking listen! No, I had to go through a fucking exorcism instead, all
because he wanted to fucking punish me because of you!”
“Louis I understand! I get it! I’ve been there! I’ve wanted to die. The day
you left, I begged God to prove his existence to me by taking my life. To
stop my fucking heart. He didn’t listen to me either because…” Harry is cut
off by Louis, who is continuing on as if Harry never said anything. He is
rambling now, sounding almost hysterical. Harry is afraid Louis is on the
verge of a nervous breakdown, and he wants to hold him, help calm him
down. He just doesn't know how Louis would react to his touch. He just
pulled away from Harry for doing that exact thing. He doesn't want to make
this worse, especially when Louis is finally talking.
“They tied me to the bed and tried to pull the demon of perversion out of
me while they doused me in holy water and chanted. I thought that it
couldn’t be real. That it was just some sick fucked up dream from a movie I
watched, but it was real. It happened to me, and I have nightmares about it,
almost every night. I felt violated. My body was not my own anymore.
They had complete control over it. They left me there with my blood, tears
and their fucking holy water drying around me,” Louis continues, and Harry
swallows heavily. Holy fucking shit. Harry can feel the a single tear trailing
down his cheek now, not being able to hold it in anymore.
A fucking exorcism? How fucked up are these people? They actually tied
him to the bed and tried to pull an imaginary demon out of his body simply
because he’s gay. Harry feels so fucking sick. All he can see is his small
beautiful ray of sunshine shrouded in darkness, scared and tied naked to a
bed as these figures chant around him. Harry swallows again, attempting to
dislodge the lump that has formed in his throat. He doesn’t even know what
to say, or how to process it. To be honest, Harry probably would have
laughed if they had tried to do that to him, but at this point, Louis had
already gone through ‘therapy’ and a baptism. He was probably already on
the verge of breaking, not to mention the fact that Louis actually did believe
in God. He was raised in a way that would make him believe that an
exorcism was necessary for his salvation.
“I know it’s fucked up, but I thanked them after that. I thanked them for
doing it, for trying to help me. That’s what they were trying to do right?
They were helping me! They were showing me the path of the Lord. How
could I be angry with them? They made me feel so guilty for trying to help
Ashton escape, and they wouldn’t even tell me if he did. They said I sent
him to Hell. That when he died, it was on my shoulders. His torture would
be from my hand, just like my sisters,” Louis cries, his whole body shaking
with it. Shattered. He is shattered. Harry can almost see the pieces of him
moving with each vicious shudder, and he has a sick feeling that Louis has
more to say. He tightens his hands into fists, begging himself to be strong
for Louis. Louis was his strength, so now Harry needs to be that for him
even though he wants to fucking crumble at Louis’ words.
“Do you regret helping Ash escape?” Harry asks, his voice somehow calm
despite the earth moving around him and the boy fracturing in front of him.
He just wants to know because he heard a part of their conversation the
night of Niall’s birthday. Louis didn’t seem to regret it then, and he isn’t
sure he does now. Not with the way Louis said it. Louis looks at him then,
and Harry can see the moment his eyes actually focus on him. A purple
light beam from the window is streaked across his high cheekbones, and he
looks so fucking stunning, Harry almost can’t bare to keep his eyes on him.
It hurts. It hurts that he can’t touch him. It hurts Harry’s entire being that
they made Louis feel this way. That they broke him to the point that Harry
isn’t even sure that he has the strength that it is going to take to fix him,
however he would rather go to the pits of Hell before he ever gave up
trying.
“I didn’t, then I did. They told me I should, so I did up until the party, then I
saw him. He looked so happy and healthy and... free. For the first time since
that night, I was so glad that I didn’t take that freedom away from him. He
didn’t deserve what I went through. He’s just a kid. I hate that he and Luke
are together, and he is going to go to Hell unless he changes his ways, but
he is just a fucking kid. They tortured him, and what they did to me after he
left. Oh God, Harry, I wouldn’t wish that on the Devil himself,” Louis says,
his voice softer, more calm now that he is talking about Ashton. What else
could they have possibly done to Louis? Whatever it is, he knows it had to
be horrible because Ashton said that when he left, Louis was mostly okay.
Now, Louis is most certainly not okay. Harry has the sick feeling that Louis
is about to tell him.
“You didn’t deserve it either, Lou. You’re almost as young as Ash. Please
tell me you don’t think you deserve it. Please,” Harry begs, his brows
drawing together with his pleas. He feels sick seeing the haunted look on
Louis’ face, images of Louis scared and broken laying on a bed flashing
before his eyes forcing the bile to rise up further in his throat, nearly
suffocating him. He doesn't need to breathe, though. He needs Louis to tell
him that he knows he didn’t deserve what happened to him. He needs to
know that Louis will eventually be okay. He barely stops himself from
reaching for Louis again, watching more tears stream down his face under
the yellow light as it reflects them.
“I did deserve it, Harry. I’m sick! I deserved all of it! I deserved every
single thing they did to me! I deserved the baptism, the group therapy,
aversion therapy, the shame, the guilt, the isolation, the starvation. All of it.
I deserved every single second of it because I disobeyed God. I let you tear
my family apart! I allowed myself to tear it apart, so yeah, I fucking
deserved it! I still do. I don’t even deserve to live anymore because I just
keep fucking everything up! I can’t stop myself from going near you! I
can’t stop my fucking urges, and they said I needed to be strong. I needed to
resist you, but I can’t! I can’t, Harry! All I want to fucking do is kiss you.
All I want is to be held in your fucking arms and to fall asleep on your
chest. To listen to your heartbeat because I don’t have one anymore. I don’t
remember how it feels to even have one! I need to die! I need to kill myself
and take myself away from these temptations because I can’t do this
anymore. I can’t be who he wants me to be! He won’t command me to be
well!”
Spit is now flying out of Louis’ mouth, his words cutting Harry deeper than
he has ever cut himself. Isolation? Starvation? Is that what they did to him
during the two week time frame it took Ashton to make his way to Harry
and his family? Gods, it’s no wonder Louis broke. Why he continues to
remain so broken. He probably lost is fucking mind. They brainwashed
him. That is how you brainwash someone. You distort their reality so much,
you are able to mold it into something else. They forged something that
Louis never fit into. They broke him and put him back together incorrectly.
It all makes sense now, and Harry feels like the world has both stopped
turning and is spinning far too fast. He is dizzy and so fucking sick, the
realization hitting him like a fucking torpedo. How did he not see it before?
Well, he probably did, but he was in as much denial as Louis is. He was
right. The man who ran the camp had to have a connection with Mark
through the military. It all makes so much sense now. Maybe it's a good
thing Louis is shattered. Louis had to break again, the mold they forced him
into shattering along with it before Harry can start to rebuild him.
Sometimes you have to break something before you can fix it, like a bone
that didn’t heal right. It can’t heal properly until it’s broken again.
“Harry I don’t even know who I am anymore! My world is so fucked up

that I just want to blow my fucking brains out! I just want some fucking
silence!” Louis is back to screaming again, gesturing wildly with his hands,
bringing two fingers and a thumb up to his temple, acting as though he is
pulling an imaginary trigger. Harry can’t breathe. This is all too much, and
he wasn’t even the one that had to go through it. How Louis is still standing
in front of him is a fucking miracle. After everything he has been through.
Harry’s body is shaking now, silent tears streaming down his face with
Louis’ words. They stripped him of who he used to be and tried to put him
in a mold that he never belonged in. No wonder he has been so confused.
“The silence in the cell is what killed me the most. The stillness, the
quietness, the nothingness, and now I beg for it. My head is so chaotic, and
the only thing that makes it stop, that makes the fucking voices stop, is you.
You Harry. Why is that? Why would God do that to me? Why would he
make you my only fucking saving grace? Why is that when you are around,
I feel some sort of reprieve from all of this shit? I don’t understand, God,”
Louis screams, looking up towards the ceiling. “I don’t fucking get it! Why
are you doing this to me? Do you want me to be fucked up? Is this my
fucking fate? To live my life in total confusion? Conflicting voices in a
constant battle! I lost everything in that cell. I lost my sense of self. Is that
what you wanted? Did you want me to lose who I was so you could rebuild
me? I’m waiting! Please God, rebuild me. I'm tired of feeling incomplete
without him.”
Harry has no idea who the 'him' Louis is referring to could be, but this has
got to stop. Louis is fucking losing it, and Harry needs to pull him back to
reality before it’s too late. Harry grabs Louis shoulders then, digging his
fingers into Louis’ skin. Louis’ head snaps down, frantic blue eyes meeting
Harry’s. His mouth is open and his chest is heaving. His face is red and
blotchy from crying, but he is still the single most beautiful thing on the
planet to Harry. His body is still shaking, and Harry can almost hear the
shattered pieces rattling inside of him. Harry is going to find every single
piece and put him back together, even if it takes the rest of his fucking life.
He hopes it won’t. He just needs to snap Louis out of this. He needs to lift
the veil. This isn’t Louis. It could be something as simple as reminding him
of who he was before, and what he learned. You can still see your reflection
in a shattered piece of a mirror, no matter how tiny the sliver of it is. He
needs to show Louis that.
“You listen to me, and you listen fucking good. You are Louis Fucking
Tomlinson. You are an intelligent man, an amazing son, and an inspiring big
brother to your sisters and to Ash,” Harry starts, shaking Louis a bit, but
bending his head so that Louis is forced to look him in the eye. “You are
gay. You are beautiful. You are perfect. You are pure. You are human. You
are loved. You are the fucking sun. You have never failed to light up my
world, unlike God. You created light, Louis. Don’t you see that? You
shouldn’t be begging some arbitrary God to tell you who you are. You
know who you are. You are just too afraid of that person to fucking see it.
Too afraid of some imaginary man in the sky and a fake place you may or
may not go to once you die. You are Louis, the man I have loved for far
longer than I ever wanted to admit.”
“Stop! Stop it, Harry! Shut up! No! Shut up!” Louis screams in Harry’s
face, trying to pull out his firm hold, stomping his foot with his tantrum.
Harry is almost sure he would have put his hands over his ears if he could
reach them. He is crying again with his outburst, fat tears trailing down his
face, dripping from his chin onto the floor of the old church. Harry watches
each one drop, like the first few moments of rain after a drought. Needed
and necessary, but with the potential for devastation. After a few moments
of Louis’ struggling, Harry releases him, holding out his arms and taking a
few steps back. Desperate times.
“Alright! I’ll bite,” Harry starts, raising his voice again because he is just so
fucking done with the bullshit. “It’s my turn to talk, Louis, and you’re
gonna fucking listen. God! Can you fuckin’ hear me? It’s me, one of the
forgotten assholes you damned! Yeah! Hey! I really hope you’re fuckin’
listenin’ because I have a lot to say to you!” Harry shouts, his southern
accent thick with his anger, as he looks up at the heavens. He feels dumb.
He knows he is talking to no one, but this is for Louis. He glances at the
older boy, who looks horrified that Harry is talking to his God in this
manner. Harry needs to hit home though, so he may as well. He feels like he
has to do this. He needs to slap Louis back into reality. He wanted to do it
gently, but fuck that. Pussy footing around doesn’t seem to be getting
through to him so maybe, just maybe, this will. He raises his right hand in
the air, middle finger poised towards the ceiling.
“First of all fuck you!” Harry starts, raising a hand up towards the ceiling,
his middle finger poised at an imaginary man in the clouds. “You did this to
Louis! It’s your fuckin’ fault he was tortured at the hands of your so called
chosen ones. It’s your fault he had his dignity stripped from him, and it will
be your fault if he takes his own life. We ain’t even goin’ to talk about the
huge fuck up you made of my life. So yeah, fuck you right in your dusty old
ass. So this is my fucking prayer. I’m in a godsdamned church for Christ’s
sake, you are supposed to listen when I am in one of your holy places. So
God, I’m prayin’ to you, almighty Lord of the Heavens and Earth.” Harry
drops his hand so that his arms are open wide, looking up at the ceiling. He
says it for shock value. He knows his words will cut Louis to the core, and
shock him enough to hopefully make him see reason. Just like suspected,
there is no holy voice. There is no Angel or Demon. Nothing is happening.
The only sound that is filling the room is Louis’ sniffles, and Harry
footsteps as he spins in a circle.
“I pray that you will never be able to wash the blood of millions of innocent
people that were slaughtered by your command from your divine hands. I
pray that I will never go to Heaven because if I ever met you, I would spit
in your fuckin’ bearded face. The only time I will get on my knees from
now on is to suck the Devil’s cock, and maybe Louis’ if he ever lets me
again. If you don’t like what I am sayin’, then fucking kill me. Smite me. I
fuckin’ dare you! Prove to both of us that you exist by killing me right now,
in your fucking church. It wouldn’t be the first death on your hands, and it
most certainly wouldn’t be the last. So strike me dead. Make a believer out
of us. Come on! I fucking dare you! Fucking do it you fuckin’ coward!
Prove it! Prove to me your fuckin’ power! Show me how worthy I am of
your fucking wrath!” Harry’s voice is hoarse from his screaming, and he
stops, waiting for a sign he knows will never come.
“Don’t talk to him that way, Harry! What the fuck are you trying to do?”
Louis asks, and Harry feels a hand on his arm, yanking it down. He turns to
look down, finding that Louis is seething, looking as though he is on the
verge of punching Harry in the face. Harry is somewhat relieved because
finally, Louis doesn't look as lost. He at least has something in his eyes
other than confusion and desperation. Harry almost wishes he would punch
him, at least then he will have some kind of fire back in him, some hint of
the boy Harry knew before all of this. He has seen glimpse of him before
today, though, and Harry will do whatever it takes to see him coming to the
surface fully, even if he is gasping for air from being underwater for so
long. Harry will just resuscitate him until he is breathing, so he grabs Louis’
arms again, collecting his thoughts.
“I am proving to you that God isn’t fucking real, Louis. That your fuckin’
tower of faith was nothing more than a fucking cage. Some don’t even
realize they were a prisoner until they are fucking free, Louis, and you need
to remember that freedom. God isn’t real! God is a figment of your
imagination! A product of the fucking time, created by old men to control
the masses. There is no man in the sky that is responsible for the actions of
everyone else. There is no fucking puppet master that they can blame their
sins on. None of it! Nothin’!” Harry yells, watching Louis flinch when
Harry’s breath wooshes over his face. He opens his mouth to argue, but
Harry cuts him off. He is going to get all of this out. He is going to make
Louis listen.
“God isn’t real, Louis. He’s not, and the sooner you realize that, the sooner
you come to terms with it, then you can release this hate you have for
yourself. Remember everything we’ve talked about? Remember the
inconsistencies in the Bible? Everything it damned and allowed? Remember
how you knew that was fucked up. You’re just too scared to question it now
because of what happened to you at that damn camp. You don’t want to
think you went through all of that for nothing,” Harry says, his voice
slightly softer now. Louis’ bottom lip is trembling, more tears welling in his
eyes, but Harry holds on to him. He powers through.
“I’m sorry, Louis, but you did. You went through all of that for nothing, and
it’s not fair. You should be mad at Mark. You should be mad at the
counselors. You shouldn’t be mad at me, and you most certainly shouldn’t
be begging an imaginary man in the sky to take away your confusion and
your urges. God isn’t fucking real, Louis! He’s not! You know that, deep
down beyond all of the bullshit that they made you believe. We are real
though. This is real. What we have between us is real! It isn’t damned. It
isn’t unholy. It isn’t a fucking sin. It is tangible! It is undeniable! It is
absolute! Can this church offer you that? Can your fucking God offer you
that? Can you look me in the eyes right now and tell me that God is real and
give me some kind of substantial evidence to prove this fact that doesn't
include ‘Adam said’ or the fucking word ‘faith'? Can you?”
Harry’s voice is hoarse from his shouts, more tears streaming down his face
to match Louis’. He tries to concentrate on his breathing, but it is difficult.
Louis’ body is quaking like a rotting leaf getting ready to fall from a branch
in the autumn. Harry’s eyes focus on Louis’ lips, watching the soft pink
skin quiver with emotion, but without an answer. The silence from Louis is
deafening while he looks around the church in desperation, as if seeking
some sort of answer that he won’t find there. His eyes travel back to
Harry’s, searching, then he bites his lip, eyes blue and watery, but they are
the clearest they have been since Prom. The light from the stained glass is
painting him in intricate rainbow patterns, and he is the closest thing to an
angel this church has ever seen.
Harry can’t stop himself anymore, he leans in, their chest rubbing together
with each heaving breath as he closes the distance, sealing their lips. The
kiss feels like it restarts Harry’s heart, and Louis tastes like nights of nearly
forgotten memories and a hint of tobacco however it is over far too soon
because Louis is pushing him away violently. Harry allows it, not wanting
to force himself on Louis. When he stops, about three feet away from him,
he looks up, finding Louis’ eyes wide and panicked, but there is a spark of
lust there. Harry holds his breath, feeling as though the fate of his world
rests in the next few moments, between their fractured heartbeats.
Chapter End Notes
*Dodges everything cos Jesus' tits another fucking cliffhanger*
There were a lot of American Reference Jokes at the beginning of the

chapter.
Jolly Goth Giant- The Jolly Green Giant is a brand of Green Beans in
America
Build a Lurch Workshop- The Build a Bear worship is a toy store that
specializes in different Bears.... and Lurch is the creepy butler from the
Addam's Family
Jack Skellyington and The Pumpkin King- both references to the
popular American movie The Nightmare Before Christmas
Next chapter is going to be fun. Buckle up babes!

Behind Blue Eyes
Chapter Summary
Ummm…. you should just read it and know all the reasons why I am
going to hell if such a place exist.
Chapter Notes
WARNING!!! This chapter may be offensive to some people. At this
point, f you have made it this far into the story, then you should be
fine, but I just needed to say it!
This actually became one of my fave chapters (I know I keep saying

that, but this time I mean it because the fic is done, and I know all of
the chapters at this point). I'm really proud of of this one. Like really
proud. It may be one of the best things I have ever written from the
imagery alone. I hope it doesn't disappoint you.

them.
No one knows what it’s like
To feel these feelings
Like I do, and I blame you!
No one bites back as hard
On their anger
None of my pain woe
Can show through- Limp Bizkit
Louis feels like he has been hit by a truck, his body scraping against the
pavement below until it is raw and painful. It’s like his skin is being peeled
off, inch by fucking excruciating inch, and given to Harry. Handed over
selflessly, along with all of his problems and burdens, but in some fucked
up way, it feels good. It feels as if Harry has taken a giant fucking fan to the
fog that has been surrounding him for months. The fog of constant doubt,
confusion and self loathing he's been drowning in, and waved it away like it
had never been. As a montage of memories flash at lightning speed through
Louis’ brain, he doesn't feel like he is looking at the world through a veil
anymore. He recalls all of their discussions, their moments of passion and
finally the night of Prom, ending at one conclusion, the only logical and
rational conclusion there ever was to all of this. The answer he has been
searching for all of these months that he just wasn't willing to let himself
believe.
God isn’t real.
Harry is staring at him, as if trying to read his mind, and Louis almost hopes
he can. He wants to scream it from the rooftops, so that everyone will know,
but then he looks at Harry’s lips. Louis’ world feels like it is turning again,
but not spinning out of control. Harry had just kissed him, and it tasted like
Louis was home for the first time in months. It tasted familiar and absolute.
Like everything he has ever wanted, but it’s the one thing he never had to
whisper a prayer to receive. It was natural and definite, as if Harry had
single handedly thrown out every piece of the puzzle that was confusing
Louis, and showed him how to put the damn thing together, his big ringed
hands guiding him. Louis feels like he is seeing the world clearly again, his
world, and it is right. It hasn’t been flipped on its axis so that it resembles
something chaotic. It is right. It is real. It is his world, and it is finally
fucking clear.
Louis reaches one hand out, touching Harry’s chest lightly. Louis flinches
automatically, expecting to be burned. There is no sizzling sound coming
from the touch, no burning sensation in his fingertips. Louis is slightly
disappointed because a very small part of him wanted to be burned by
Harry, finally finding the Hell that has been waiting for him. He wants to be
branded by him in some way that will never leave him. Perhaps he already
has, and that is why they are both standing in this church, screaming at a
God that is not real. He presses his hand to Harry’s chest again, more firmly
this time, still no scorched skin or the smell of burning flesh to be found. He
feels it then, Harry’s heartbeat. Harry is real. Harry is alive. His chest is
moving up and down with each breath. Harry is fucking real.
Louis looks around the Church once more, but finds no God to touch. There
is no divine hand reaching down from the sky. No angel in the corner. The
ghosts of preachers past aren’t even echoing throughout the abandoned
structure. Nothing. Louis can’t touch God. He can’t feel God’s heartbeat.
He can’t see him breathing. God can’t hold him when he is falling apart, but
Harry has done that. Harry’s body is frozen under his touch, even though it
feels so very warm to Louis. Not so warm that it’s burning him, as he
thought it would, more so a calming sign of life. Louis isn’t going to Hell.
No. Louis has been in Hell all along. He has been in Hell since Mark took
him. Mark sent him to Hell, not Harry.
Harry has been his salvation. Has been his relief from all of this. Harry is
real. Louis is touching him. He is watching him breathe. He can still taste
Harry on his tongue from their kiss, the smell of vanilla still lingering in his
nostrils from their close proximity. He sees him standing in front of him, his
chest rising and falling with each new breath, giving him life.. He can hear
his erratic heartbeat, loud and strong in his ears. He can feel the heat of his
skin through the fabric of his shirt. Louis can definitely feel the hard muscle
of his chest as it rises and falls, and Louis feels like he has been hit by
lightning, a huge bolt from the heavens that finally jolted him awake.
As if on instinct, there is a familiar pull of pleasure behind his navel, and,

before the voice in his head, that sounds eerily like Adam, has the chance to
change his mind, he jumps on Harry. The taller man makes a surprised
sound but doesn’t fall; he just wraps his giant hands around Louis’ thighs to
steady him as Louis crashes their mouths together. It’s heated, all tongue,
teeth and spit, and it’s perfect. Louis wraps his legs tighter around Harry’s
waist, grinding his hardening dick on Harry’s belt buckle, moaning when he
feels Harry’s own length stiffen as if in answer. He loops his arms around
Harry’s neck, burying his hands in his soft curls, wanting his entire body to
touch Harry’s in someway, needing to hold on to this little bit of reality
while he has it in his grasp, afraid that it is nothing but a dream. A dream he
will readily enjoy, a reprieve from the constant and all consuming turmoil
that has been suffocating him, however, it can't be a dream. Harry is here.
He knows, down to the depths of his being, that this is his reality.
Harry just slammed him back down into actual existence, like an Angel that
has fallen from grace and landed on Earth’s surface in a heap of broken
wings, twisted limbs and a bent halo. The Heavens opened up and expelled
the holy being from it’s clouds for it’s misdeeds. His body hurts from the
fall, but he has also never felt more whole, more alive. Maybe that is a
terrible metaphor given that Louis doesn't believe in God anymore. Surely
God would smite him if he existed for the unholy thoughts he is currently
having about Harry in the middle of a goddamned church, but that doesn't
stop his hips from grinding on Harry’s again or his vocal cords as they
release moan after moan into Harry’s waiting mouth.
“Fuck me,” Louis murmurs against Harry’s lips, only breaking their kiss
long enough to say the words before he continues, the sacreligious
smacking sound filling the church once more. It seems to take a second for
his words to sink in because Harry breaks their kiss suddenly, rearing his
head back to look into Louis’ eyes, searching. Louis wants to squirm under
the intensity of his gaze, but manages to refrain. He tries not to let out a
frustrated whine because they are no longer kissing. He knows it’s his fault
they have gone so long without it, but he is trying to make up for it, yet
Harry is wanting to fucking talk. Of fucking course he does.
“Are you sure? We are in a church, Louis,” Harry asks, eyes wide with
surprise at Louis’ request. Louis freezes, having forgotten exactly where
they were for a split second. He looks around at the dusty old pews, many
of them broken, the red velvet material weathered with dry rotted holes, the
thin dirty cushioning showing through. The sun is filtering in through the
broken windows, so that streaks of golden hues and a rainbow of colors are
lighting up the room in a technicolored glow. There is an old forgotten
Bible sitting on the altar, the pages yellow and decaying from years of
neglect, and for some inexplicable reason, all he sees are broken chairs and
a dusty old book. They mean nothing to him. They hold no relevance. He
isn’t scared. They aren’t sacred. They are just broken chairs and a book
better left forgotten. For once, he doesn't see the shattered pieces of his
tortured soul, or his damnation spelled out for him.
“Fuck it,” Louis responds with a shrug after one last look around. Among
everything he sees, there is still no holy hand reaching down from the skies,
no angel in the corner judging them, no godly voice forbidding it. Nothing.
Just Harry with his messy curls and wicked smirk firmly in place. Louis’
knees would buckle, but they are still firmly wrapped around Harry’s hips.
He doesn't allow Harry to respond, just drops his lips down kissing him
hungrily. He begins yanking at Harry’s shirt, using his core muscles to
balance himself so that he can pull Harry’s shirt off over his head, breaking
their kiss only for the exact amount of time it takes to do so.
“Louis. I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret,” Harry says,

breaking their kiss yet again. He looks earnest, and Louis understands his
reaction considering all of the shit Louis just screamed at him. Accused him
of. Louis feels sick thinking about it. He doesn’t even know why he said it.
He didn’t mean any of it, and if he would have just been thinking logically
for once in his life, then he would have known Harry was right. He would
have seen that the answers were right in front of him all along. That’s what
they did to him, though. They took away his logic and instilled a new,
fucked up version, that distorted Louis’ reality to the point that it was
unrecognizable, and he ended up screaming at Harry in a church because of
it.
“I don’t care. I need you inside me. Right now. It's been too long,” Louis
insists, making sure his tone is inflected with certainty, for the first time in a
long time. He just wants what he is saying is coming across loud and clear
to Harry. He hasn't been certain about anything as of late, but he knows
when it comes to this he is. He doesn’t know the exact moment Harry broke
him out of it. He doesn't think there was one, just an accumulation of
thousands of heartbeats before and after everything that happened to slam
Louis back down to Earth. He thinks that maybe, if he had to pinpoint an
exact moment, it was when he himself realised that maybe he was using his
faith as a comfort blanket. As a way to process all of the atrocities done to
him. That if he held onto God and the counselors then camp would have
served a purpose. That he wouldn't have had to endure Hell on Earth for
nothing.
Louis digs his hands into Harry’s bare shoulders now, needing to hold onto
him, to keep this reality under his fingertips because he is so scared of
letting it slip away again. He is so scared of going under again and
drowning in the turmoil, dying this time from lack of air. He doesn't want to
go back to the confusion. He doesn't want to push Harry away because of a
concept as irrational and obscure as faith. Maybe that was the moment
Harry finally snapped him out of it. When he asked Louis for some sort of
proof that doesn't involve the word ‘faith’. Louis had nothing. Absolutely
nothing. He looked around the church, searching for some sort of sign, but
saw only emptiness. Just an old decrepit building full of hate, the echoes of
preachers past damning the assembly to Hell if they didn’t change their
sinful ways. He could almost hear the screams of the faceless man as he
wielded that Bible like a sword, reminding Louis of the services he had to
attend while he was at camp. A lot of good it did because the church is now
hollow and decaying, resembling the Bible that is sat on the altar, it’s pages
full of hate while it just collects dust, forgotten. All he could think of was
their countless conversations on the topic, and the final conclusion he came
to before all of this.
“Fuck, Louis,” Harry says when Louis grinds their dicks together again,
moaning into Harry’s open mouth. A spark of pleasure rocks through Louis'
system as he digs his fingernails into Harry’s back because this is what it
feels like to be alive. It’s all consuming. It’s real, and Louis has fucking
missed it. He spent so much time trying to block it all out, pretend it never
happened or paint it in a negative hue, he had forgotten how good it felt.
How it felt with Harry’s big hands pawing at his ass, Louis being able to
feel the rings through the material of his jeans. Harry literally breathing life
into him through their joined lips. Harry’s taste on his tongue. The smell of
Harry’s shampoo assaulting his nostrils, covering the dust and mildew
lingering in the air. The sounds of their moans mingling with the smack of
their lips, drowning out any screams from the ghost of a preacher Louis
may be hearing.
Louis whimpers when Harry guides him down his long body, his feet
landing on the floor with a muted thud. He can barely hear it over the sound
of his racing heart. At least it’s beating again. At least his blood is flowing,
and he no longer feels dead inside. He opens his mouth to protest, but Harry
leans down to kiss him, any words being whisked away by Harry’s tongue.
Louis lifts his arms when he feels Harry’s hand tugging the hem of his shirt,
breaking their kiss long enough to quickly pull the material over his head.
Next thing Louis feels is his bare chest against Harry’s, and he can almost
feel their hearts beating together, as one. Harry’s skin is warm against his
own, and Louis can’t stop his fingernails from digging in, scratching
Harry’s back, marking him. Louis has missed him.
Harry doesn’t say anything, just uses his hands on Louis’ hips to guide him
over to a pew. He kisses Louis on the tip of his nose, then across the bridge,
seeming to want to lay his lips over each individual freckle, as he unbuttons
and unzips Louis’s jeans with a skilled hand. Before Louis knows it, his
jeans are around his ankles and he is stepping out of them along with his
shoes, the cool musty air hitting his hard dick, making him hiss out a breath.
Harry kisses him again, this time more sweet than the passion filled, lustful
kiss from before, almost as if he can’t believe Louis is allowing him to.
Louis can’t believe it either. This morning, he would have never thought his
day would have turned out like this, but he doesn't regret it. No. The
opposite really. He is wondering why this has taken him so long. Well he
knows why. Fear.
“Get on your knees, love,” Harry orders with a wicked smirk, glancing
down at the pew. Louis’ breath freezes in his lungs, looking down at the
bench, the red material on the seats holey and used. He had just knelt on
one of these this past Sunday in prayer, but he thinks that’s the point. It’s
blasphemous, and a thrill goes through Louis’ system at the thought. What
better way to say ‘fuck you’ to all of the camp counselors that tortured him
for no reason? Just picturing the horrified look on Adam’s face has both
Louis’ cheeks heating in shame and him smirking in victory. He allows the
latter emotion to win out as he drops to his knees, bending his torso over the
seat, his hands gripping the top of the backrest.
“You’re so lovely bathed in the light of the stained glass windows. A
rainbow painting on your skin, declaring who you are to me and the world.
Jesus fucking christ, Louis, do you have any idea what your body does to
me? How much I missed it? How much I missed you?” Harry asks from
behind him. Louis looks over his shoulder to find Harry’s green gaze taking
in every inch of his body, probably seeing the scars from his time in the
camp. His eyes are hungry, intent on devouring Louis like the last fucking
supper. Louis whimpers again, his dick spurting precome onto the surface
of the pew, making it sticky and stained. He doesn’t care. He just wants to
be touched. Needs it. He hasn’t been touched in so long, only coming once
since prom. He isn’t going to last long at this rate, but right now he doesn't
care.
“Harry, please,” Louis whispers, his hips grinding against the pews of their
own accord. The material is rough against his sensitive skin, but it feels
good. Any kind of friction feels good at this point. Harry watches him,
biting his lip, then slowly brings his hands down to the button of his jeans.
Louis continues grinding while he watches through hooded eyes as Harry
strips the rest of his clothes off, his dick springing from it’s confinement.
Louis licks his lips, wanting nothing more than to taste Harry while he is
kneeling. Louis arches his back, hoping to entice Harry a bit more. It seems
to work, because Harry drops to his knees behind him, his big hands
coming up to knead Louis’ bare ass.
“Tell me what you want,” Harry says, kissing Louis’ shoulder then working
his way down Louis’ spine. The white hot trail sears Louis skin, and Louis
wonders if he is imagining the skin sizzling under Harry’s lips, practicing
for Hell. If this is all Hell has to offer, then sign Louis up because he hasn’t
felt this good in months. His skin is so hot, he is almost positive the fires of
Hell couldn’t compare. The Devil needs to take notes from Harry because
Louis feels as though every single pore on his body is a tiny inferno,
blazing with every single touch or caress from Harry. He may be dying, or
he is just living for the first time in months. He isn’t sure, but he doesn’t
fucking care.
“In me. Need you in me. I’m sure. Please,” Louis moans out when Harry
begins kissing over the globe of one ass cheek. He may as well be kissing
the surface of the sun because that is how hot Louis’ body feels, as if he is
going to catch fire and wash over Harry and everything occupying the room
like the goddamn sun. He feels like he has waited his whole life for this
moment to come. He is bursting with it, so he grips the pew tighter, holding
on to everything in this reality as tightly as possible, so scared that he may
go back to what it was before. The chaos and confusion. The world he saw
through a fog. He won’t. He refuses, so he takes in every kiss of Harry’s
lips, every scrape of his teeth, every firm grip on his hips and uses them to
tether himself. He uses Harry as an anchor to this reality, tying his rope to
him and hanging on as if his life depends on it.
“Wanna taste you first,” Harry mummers, and Louis can feel the words at
the base of his spine, chillbumps erupting on his skin, despite feeling as
though he is burning. He looks back to find Harry watching him, not
breaking eye contact as he spreads Louis’ cheeks, dipping his head to kiss
around his tight hole. Louis’ hips stutter at that, pulling away from the
sensation he hasn’t felt in months. Harry growls, grabbing his hips and
pulling him back, forcing a moan from deep in Louis’ chest, the sound
reverberating around the empty room. Next Louis’ feels a hot wet tongue on
his balls, licking a firm stripe all the way up.
“Fuck. Harry,” Louis moans, gripping the back of the pew so hard, his
knuckles are white with the tension, ignoring the pain that shoots down his
arm from his self inflicted wound. He swears he can hear the old wood
creak and moan in protest, but he doesn’t care. He is far too wrapped up in
Harry's tongue, licking its way into Louis, into his very soul. Who knew
you could reach someone’s soul through their ass, but here they are. Louis
releases a broken moan when he feels Harry’s pointed tongue press past his
entrance, rocking his hips back on it. There is just enough friction on his
dick to feel good, and he knows he isn’t going to last long.
“Oh my god,” Louis whispers like a prayer, his head bowed and hips
arched. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registers that he is kneeled
on a pew, as if in prayer, but this is so much better. This is real. This isn’t
begging some fictional god to remove the imaginary disease from your
body. A ‘disease’ that God placed there because Louis was born sick. No
this is Harry, licking him open. This prayer will actually be answered
because Louis is hurtling fast into oblivion, Harry’s wicked tongue and the
tip of his finger driving Louis mad. Harry had always answered his prayers,
so perhaps he is the God Louis should have been praying to all along.
He feels Harry chuckle against his hole, but he doesn’t comment, just
continues to lick Louis open, pressing his finger in deeper. Louis hasn’t had
anything inside him in months, and holy fuck did he miss it. Harry uses his
other big hand to firmly guide Louis’ hips so that he is grinding against the
seat, seeing blue and green stars in front of his eyes, as if the heavens fell
down from the sky and landed in this old church. Louis bows his head even
further, the top of his head touching the back of the seat, not even noticing
every time his hair is caught in between the splinters of the old wood,
pulling little strands. Louis’ moans are now getting louder and louder, not
being able to hold them in any longer, mingling with the sound of the
withered pew creaking below his hips and fingertips.
“Feels so good, Harry. Please,” Louis begs, his voice broken and raw from,
first the screaming, crying, then the screaming again, and finally the moans
of pleasure currently being released from his vocal cords. Fuck. The
pleasure that he feels in every square centimeter of his fucking body. It is
oozing out of him, coating every nook and cranny of the old creepy church
in something unholy and beautifully blasphemous. He is just happy to be
feeling something again. Something that can’t be defined using the words
confusion, shame, or guilt. Harry did that. Harry released him from his self
imposed chains, keeping him trapped in a flawed and unhealthy prison.
Harry freed him, again, and Louis doesn't know how he will ever repay
him.
“Harry. God. Fuck. Harry. ‘M so close. Stop. Fuck,” Louis moans, trying to
pull his ass away from Harry’s mouth before he comes too soon, but Harry
holds firm, growling and licking into Louis with renewed vigor. His tongue
feels like it is trying to touch his fucking heart with how deep Harry is
prodding, one finger now burried inside him, pressing against his prostate.
It stings a bit, but Louis revels in it. He loves every second of it because he
knows that it is real. Louis can’t stop himself from moving his hips back on
it, building a steady rhythm riding Harry’s finger and face with abandon,
chasing his release. He forgot how good this felt, to have Harry’s fingers in
him, opening him up.
Louis feels as though his body is burning up with a heat Louis has never
known before. Harry immersed him into a river of fire, baptizing him. It’s
intense. It’s absolving. It’s so fucking freeing. Unlike the water, fire licks at
his skin; it doesn’t wrap around him to smother his face, to suffocate him.
Yes, it can harm him just as much as water, however Louis doesn’t feel hurt
by it. He feels no pain. He doesn’t even feel like he is dying. His lungs are
burning, but not from smoke. The fire does more to purify his body than
water ever could. Louis was supposed to feel cleansed when they baptized
him at camp, but he only felt dirty and defiled. Now though, Louis
understands what baptism means. Rebirth. Sometimes people are reborn of
flames and not water.
“Fuck Harry! Oh my-- fuck. Holy shit. I’m-- fuck.” Louis’ thought ends in
a scream, his whole body tensing as he releases. Stars. He sees stars. Not in
the heavens. No. Just in the infinite Universe where no God can be found.
His white come paints the dark red material below his hips, like the wool of
a lamb landing on the blood of Christ, soaking in the liquid on impact to
make it both pure and tainted. It’s art, and it’s sinful. He doesn't care,
though. He just screamed Harry’s name in a church, instead of God’s. He
hopes God can hear him, if he exists. He wants God to know who is truly
deserving of Louis’ worship because, unlike God, Harry accepts him. He
fucking loves him for who he is, not wanting him to change at all. Harry
isn’t toxic. God is, and Louis now sees that with perfect clarity.
“So lovely,” Harry whispers, his voice gravelly, and Louis wonders if he
was even supposed to hear it. He looks back, finding Harry’s eyes
sparkling, his mouth and chin covered in spit. Louis whimpers, but Harry
doesn’t even give him a moment to come down from his high. He slowly
pulls out his finger, then helps Louis up off his knees. Harry kisses him
then, tongue delving into Louis mouth, exploring every crevice, as if
searching from some lost and meaningful treasure. Perhaps he will find the
holy grail or something equally as magnificent. Louis wouldn’t give a fuck
if he did as long as Harry keeps kissing him like his life depends on it.
Louis barely notices when Harry picks him up, slamming his back against a
nearby wall in hunger. Louis feels as though he is being devoured, his
metaphorical flesh made only for Harry’s consumption. Louis can feel
Harry’s hard dick rubbing against his own. Louis wants to pull away, over
sensitive now from his recent orgasm, but it feels too good. Instead, Louis
digs his fingers into Harry’s shoulder blades, the strong muscles flexing in
response, and locks his ankles around Harry’s hips, swallowing Harry’s
growl as he grinds on him. It is rough, passionate, and all consuming.
“Gonna open you up,” Harry murmurs into his mouth, sending a tingle
down Louis’ spine with his words. He then moves Louis again as if he
weighs nothing more than a single feather from the wing a fallen angel.
Music. Louis hears music as he lands on something cold and slick. Fuck.
Harry has placed him on the organ that is residing in the corner of the room.
Louis adjusts, more out of tune sounds coming from the rusty pipes his
back is leaning against. He can feel the vibrations in his shoulder blades.
His legs are open wide in offering, and he watches with hooded eyes as
Harry opens a packet of lube that he seemed to have produced out of thin
air.
“Where the fuck did that come from?” Louis voices his thoughts, and Harry
giggles. Actually giggles, and it takes Louis’ fucking breath away. Today he
has seen Harry logical and calculating. He has observed Harry furious and
seething, which was new and slightly hot. He has experienced Harry wicked
and lustful, but he hasn’t witnessed his happiness. He is just so fucking
beautiful, his elation radiating off him in waves, and Louis closes his eyes
for a moment to bathe in it. Beams of sunlight are piercing through the
broken glass, casting Harry in both light and shadows, making him glow,
like the sun reflecting off the surface of the moon. It illuminates the world
in something just as beautiful as the sun, but is still somewhat shrouded in
darkness, creating intricate shadows where hope dwells.
“Had it in my wallet from all those impromptu times at school. Couldn’t

bring myself to take it out yet. Glad I didn’t,” Harry answers, smirking at
Louis. He coats his fingers in the substance, moving it around to warm it
up. Louis is suddenly nervous, the feeling of shame and guilt taking hold
once more. His whole body begins to tremble, questions about sin filling his
head once more. Harry must sense the beginning of Louis’ freak out
because he surrounds him again, kissing him senseless. Louis melts into it,
using it as yet another anchor to reality. He brings his shaking arms around
Harry’s neck, suppressing the lingering doubt placed there by the camp. He
concentrates on the feeling of Harry’s tongue, the way Harry’s hips are
pressing against his ass, Harry’s dick aligning with his own. Soon, he is
moaning into it, moving his hips slightly as a signal for Harry to start to
open him up.
“Shh, baby, I’ve got you,” Harry says, kissing Louis sweetly when Louis
whimpers. Next Louis feels a slicked up finger at his hole, gently pushing
inside, already loose from the rim job he just received. It’s not long before
Harry works his way up to a second finger, swallowing Louis’ moans and
whines. Louis' eyes widen when Harry drops to his knees, keeping his
fingers buried deep. Louis has no idea what he has planned, but for some
reason he was not expecting Harry to begin kissing his semi-hard shaft. It is
still sensitive, but it feels so good, Louis’ eyes roll back in his head. When
Harry swallows him whole, Louis is almost positive he hears distant angels
singing.
“Fuck. Harry. That feels so good. Please. Don’t stop,” Louis rambles, the
musical sounds of the organ mixing with their moans, hisses, and Louis’
shouts creating, the soundtrack for this moment in Louis’ life. When Harry
finally adds a third, Louis can’t stop himself from anchoring his heels on
the old instrument, and riding Harry’s fingers. He isn’t sure which feels
better, the long digits inside him, the cool rings tugging at his stretched rim
with every thrust, avoiding his prostate or the wide hot mouth encasing him,
tongue swirling to lap up every drop of precome Louis is able to produce.
“Never gonna stop,” Harry responds, releasing Louis' dick with a wet pop.
It sounds like a promise, Louis wonders if it is. He has certainly done
everything in his power to push Harry away for the past few months, saying
horrible and spiteful things that he never really meant, but Harry
persevered. He kept coming back to Louis, approaching him with logic and
facts. He never stopped loving Louis despite how much Louis tried to
distance himself. Louis’ mouth is open, ready to reply, but he never gets the
chance because Harry dives on him, keeping his fingers firmly inside as he
licks into Louis mouth. Louis screams when Harry’s fingers finally graze
his overstimulated prostate, but it feels so good. His body on fire again.
Louis loves Harry. He loves him with everything he has, and he doesn’t
think he ever really stopped. He just forgot. He allowed the camp to taint
him, torture him until he had convinced himself otherwise. Never again.
Louis will never lose this again. He makes himself a silent promise that he
will never allow them another victory, not when the cost was his self worth.
He will never let the confusion drown him, again. He will keep fighting,
and allow Harry to hold his head above the waters of dissociation because
this is what he needs. He knows who he is now. He recognizes this body
that is currently under Harry, being consumed by him. Harry showed him
who he is, and he refuses to lose sight of that ever again. He received all of
this from Harry, not God. His hope. His dignity. His pride. Love.
___________
Harry is alarmed to see that Louis is crying again, fat tears streaming down
his cheeks reflecting the rainbow light streaming across his face. He tries to
pull away to check on him, but Louis has a tight fistful of his curls, bringing
his head back down for a sloppy kiss. Harry can taste the tears with it,
similar to the salty flavor of his come. He can’t get enough, and continues
to fuck Louis with his fingers until Louis is panting and crying into Harry’s
mouth. He just can’t believe this is happening. He is so afraid that this is all
just a dream, and he will wake up to an empty bed with a barely beating
heart, not being fine at all. He doesn’t know if he fully trusts Louis’ change
of heart yet. He is terrified that after all of this is over, Louis will run again.
He tries not to think about that though, preferring to concentrate on what
Louis is allowing him to have now.
“I’m ready, Harry. Please. Fuck me. Please,” Louis begs, his voice high
pitched and wrecked. Harry looks down at him, finding that the smaller
man is still crying, but not hysterically. He isn’t sobbing or screaming. No.
Just a steady stream of tears trailing down his face and dripping off his chin,
collecting in a small pool inside his deep collarbones. Harry hopes they
aren’t the same tears of anguish he saw when Louis was breaking right in
front of him, what already feels like a lifetime ago. He wishes he could see
what is going through Louis’ head right now. He knows Louis isn’t okay.
He is probably far from it, but he seems better. Harry isn’t sure what he was
expecting after his show of prayer. Maybe for Louis to punch him. Maybe
to watch Louis’ retreating form as he ran away. Maybe for Louis to just
continue to scream at him until his voice and body gave out completely. He
certainly wasn’t expecting Louis to kiss him.
“Are you sure, Lou? We don’t have to do this. I would be happy with what
we’ve already done,” Harry says, even though his hard cock aches in
protest. Louis feels tight around his fingers, his hole gripping them like a
vice, but he doesn't want Louis to feel as though his choice us being taken
from him. Not after everything Harry now knows he has been through.
Seemingly endless weeks of choice taken from him by the hands of another.
Harry knows what that’s like, on a much smaller scale, and he would never
wish that on his worst enemy, let alone Louis. He never deserved that, so
Harry has to ask. He has to know that this is what Louis wants, and it isn’t
just a moment of weakness. A moment of sin that Louis will just pray for
some sort of forgiveness over.
“Yes. Please. I need you inside of me. I need to feel you again. I've missed
it. Missed you,” Louis responds, eyes wide and honest even though they are
shimmering with more unshed tears. Holy fuck. He means it. He wants
Harry to fuck him again. He missed him. Thank fuck, because Harry missed
Louis more than he missed the sunshine after months of rain. Louis is his
sun, and it has been nothing but rain since graduation. This is the first ray of
sunlight after a fucking flood, and Harry is going to bathe in it. He is going
to relish it, and pray to no God in particular that it won’t abandon them until
all the water is dried up, leaving no more for them to drown in.
“Okay, baby. Shh.” Harry then wipes away Louis’ tears with the thumb of
his free hand. He looks around, searching for the perfect place to do this.
Their current location isn't ideal. This is so far removed from how Harry
envisioned them reconnecting, but he will have to make do with what he
has been given. That doesn't mean he isn't going to try his damnedest to
make this moment as incredible as he possibly can.
He picks Louis up again, mindful of the cut on his arm. The smaller man
instinctively wraps his legs around Harry’s hips, and he is thankful that his
balance hasn’t failed him. He grabs the rest of the lube, knowing there is
enough left for Harry to coat his cock in, not wanting to hurt Louis at all.
Harry bites his lip on a moan when his length presses against Louis’ now
loosened hole. He needs to try to hold off as long as he can. He needs Louis
to come again. Harry takes them over to the window sill, wide enough for
Louis to easily sit on. He wants to see Louis bathed in the beautiful rainbow
hued light. Sue him. “Fuck,” Harry curses, realizing he doesn’t have
something that they need.
“What?” Louis asks, eyes wide as if he is afraid that Harry won’t fuck him
or maybe he is just afraid that Harry will. Harry is going to go with the
former because the latter is just far too painful for him to think about. Harry
wants to kiss him again. He needs a physical reminder that this is what they
are doing. That he isn’t dreaming or they aren’t screaming at each other
again. They are kissing. They are on the verge of fucking. They are talking
about things, well kind of. There are still thousands of unanswered
questions that Harry has, most of them pertaining to what Louis is feeling.
“I don’t have a condom,” Harry responds, his voice almost pained. Louis
always kept the condom, but he doubts the other man would have one
anywhere on him, probably thinking he would wait until marriage to have
sex again. At this point, that may still be the case, because Harry doesn’t
know how Louis is going to respond to the news. Will it be what snaps him
out of his Harry induced trance, making him realize that he is about to sin
again? Harry knows, logically, Louis has been sinning left and right, but for
some reason, Louis is weighing his sinful attraction to Harry as heavier than
any of his other ones. They have had this conversation more times than
Harry wants to currently count while his cock is painfully hard. A sin is a
sin. So he holds his breath, waiting for Louis’ response.
“I don’t care. Fuck me bare. I need you. Please. Just fuck me. I haven’t been
with anyone since you, have you?” Louis asks, his words frantic, as if he
doesn’t want this moment to slip through his fingers. Harry knows that
feeling because he is currently experiencing it as well. Up until this
moment, Louis has seemed like an incorporeal being that Harry could see
but never touch. If he had tried, Louis would have simply floated through
his fingertips, always out of reach. Harry is touching him though. His
fingers were in him, up until a moment ago, and now Louis wants him to be
in him again, bare. Louis looks as though he is almost scared of Harry’s
answer to his question. His eyes are big and watery, outlined with red from
all the crying.
“No. No one. Didn’t want anyone else,” Harry admits quickly, not wanting
Louis to panic and second guess this whole thing, not after the hurtful
things Louis had accused him of not even an hour ago in this very church.
He knows, logically, that it wasn’t Louis’ words being said, but the thoughts
that the camp counselors had placed in his head. It still stung though. He
has no idea how Louis could think him capable of being so disloyal, but he
is sure that Adam, or whatever the fuck his name is, probably told him that
all gay people were fickle, as a way to shape him into someone they thought
he should be. Harry is so fucking angry. He wants to go to the prison that
holds all of these sick fucks and beat the hell out of them. He has never
hated someone he has never met so much in his life.
“Okay,” Louis says, simply, then looks down at his body. “Sorry about the
um-- um blood. I know it’s gross, and I have so many marks on my body
from them. I’m sorry. I would understand if you don’t wanna touch
me.”Harry looks down seeing the cut on Louis arm. Louis hides it, as if he
doesn't want Harry to see it. Harry understands that. He has certainly hidden
his scars from Louis, from everyone really. Harry makes a decision then. He
holds eye contact with Louis as he uses his right hand to unsnap each
bracelet one by one, the noise of each one as it falls to the ground is
deafening in the otherwise eerie silence. Maybe Harry is imagining it, but
he is sure it is a sound heard around the globe. Louis watches with wide
eyes as Harry reveals his scars to him this time, new and old. He almost
feels as though he has unleashed himself from some kind of self imposed
shackles, feeling free for the first time.
“You once told me I should be proud of my scars. That they represent

survival. That I shouldn’t be ashamed of them. I want you to see me,” Harry
says, his voice wavering from the emotion clogging his throat. He takes
Louis’ right hand in his left, so their scars align. He kisses over the self
inflicted mark, holding his hand up as he does so. He then moves to kiss
every single blemish on Louis’ tan skin. He places his lips on every healed
wound he knows was put there by the camp, at the hands of people who
claimed that God was working through them. Several of them look like
burn marks, and Harry remembers what Louis had said about the aversion
therapy, how they would use heat as a form of punishment. He kisses all
over Louis arms and chest, ending on his face.
“I see you,” Louis says, dropping Harry’s hand so that he can lean up,
sealing their lips together in another long, deep kiss, tangling his small
fingers through Harry’s hair, and that is all of the encouragement Harry
needs. He reaches between their sweat slick bodies to lube his cock,
applying the rest of the packet as an extra precaution. He lines himself up
and slowly begins sinking inside. Holy fucking hell! It’s hot, and Harry is
sure that this is what Hell would feel like. It feels as though Louis’ hole is
searing his skin, working a trail from his cock all the way through his entire
body until he is on fire. He knew that feeling Louis around him, with
nothing to separate their skin would be a life altering experience, but he had
no idea it would transform his body and save his damned soul.
“Move please. Fuck me. Move. Need to feel…” Louis’ words choke off as
Harry begins to love slowly, placing both hands on either side of Louis’
hips to steady him on the window sill. Louis’ ass is tipped up towards
Harry, his tailbone holding most of his weight. Harry is definitely not going
to last long. He can already feel the pool of heat behind his navel, the tight
pull of his imminent orgasm inside his balls. Louis feels like everything
that's perfect. Heaven really, if such a place existed. Fucking Louis bare,
inside the walls of an old church is what Heaven is to Harry. That's the
thing about fictional places such as that, everyone has a different definition
of paradise. How can such a thing be the same for every single person in
existence?
“Louis. Holy shit. Fuck. You feel so good,” Harry moans, his hips moving
faster now that he has gotten used to the sensation of Louis’ heat wrapped
around him. He keeps having to tell himself that this is real, like a mantra in
his head, chanting to himself that he is fucking Louis. That it isn’t a dream.
That somehow, what started off as a normal day of classes then studying,
led to this. Louis allowing another intimate moment between them, and
Harry hopes that it won’t be the last. He doesn't hope very often. He has
never been one to waste his time on something as fickle as hope, a concept
that had almost seemed foreign to Harry until recently. Now it is all that he
has to hang on to, so he will just keep it in his grasp just a little longer.
“Missed you. Missed you so much. Missed this. Fuck. So deep,” Louis
murmurs, his eyes closed in bliss. Harry isn’t sure if he means what he is
saying or if it is just coming out in the moment. Harry tries not to think
about it as he continues fucking into Louis, tracing the rainbow patterns the
light is making on his collarbones with his tongue, then biting and sucking
on the skin, marking him, so that each color now has a reddish-purple hue
from the skin below. At least, if Louis decides this was a mistake after
today, then he will have to live with the bruises for a few days as a reminder
of what he threw away. Harry won’t give up on him, even if he tries to run
away. Harry will never give up.
“You’re so beautiful, Lou. So perfect. Need you to know that,” Harry

whispers, biting Louis neck, feeling it against his lips when Louis moans.
He kisses his way up Louis’ neck, finding his mouth as he continues to fuck
in to him, thrusting his hips in a steady rhythm. Louis moans, fisting
Harry’s curls with one hand, scratching down Harry’s back with the blunt
nails of his other, marking him. There is a new taste on Harry’s tongue. It’s
salty, and Harry realizes what it is. Tears. He pulls back, finding that Louis
is crying again, sobbing.
“Don’t stop. Harry, please. Don’t stop. Please. Need it to feel...” Louis cries,
locking his legs around Harry’s hips so that he isn’t able to pull out. Harry
doesn't know if he could stop even if he wants to. Louis feels too good
under him, but he would certainly try if Louis asked him to. He would
move fucking mountains if Louis asked him to at this point, so he
continues, moving to the beat beat of the blood pumping through his ears.
He needs a distraction or he is going to come far too soon. He needs to keep
talking. So Harry swallows down his nerves and opens his mouth to speak.
“You’re an amazing human being, do you know that?” Harry asks, knowing
that the question is rhetorical. He just needs Louis to know everything he
loves about him, and not just physically. Louis lost himself, and Harry
wants to remind Louis of who he is. Now may be his only chance, so he
takes a deep breath, preparing to spill out his heart. “You’re so pure, Louis.
You have always been an angel to me, the only angel I will ever claim
exists. You are my saving grace. I don’t know where I would be if you
hadn’t come into my world to illuminate everything in a light that only you
can produce. You showed me the world isn’t just dark like I had thought.”
“Harry,” Louis moans, when Harry slows his pace so that each thrust is
deep and measured. Louis is still crying, but he isn’t as hysterical. Just tears
slowly leaking from underneath his closed lids. Harry knows this isn’t the
typical conversation a person has while having sex, but it is necessary. He
needs to say it, and it may be his only chance. His heart hurts at the thought
of never getting another one. Never getting to experience this ever again.
He won’t unless he can convince Louis that he is perfect just the way he is.
That he isn’t infected with some kind of disease, and he doesn't need any
God to heal him.
“I need you to see-- fuck-- I need you to see how lovely you are. Inside and
out. That you don’t need to change. You are my favorite person, Lou. In all
of the worlds, all of the galaxies, of all the stars in the sky, you are my
favorite. You shine the brightest. You bring me the most happiness. You
have never failed to make me smile, warmth radiates off you, hotter than
the surface of the sun. No matter how much I fought it, tried to keep my
heart cold and shut off, I caught fire,” Harry says, the last words catching
on a sob. Harry didn’t even realize he was crying as well until tears from his
own face fell onto Louis chest, right over his heart, only to trail down and
pool in his navel as Harry practically bends him in half still keeping the
slow and steady pace that is driving them both mad.
“Please. Harry. Oh my God. Please. Fuck,” Louis rambles, biting his lip
hard and gripping Harry’s shoulders as if using them as an anchor to reality.
Harry will always be his anchor. He will always be what Louis needs to
keep him on Earth and grounded in reality whenever he feels like he is
disappearing again. He will keep Louis corporeal, not allowing the ghost of
the man he knew to walk the hallways of disassociation. He will keep him
here even if he has to have this same argument forever. He will do whatever
it takes to continue to hold Louis like this, not only in bouts of passion but
throughout life. Every single fucking moment, for the rest of their lives,
Harry wants to be there for it.
“You’re so strong for surviving that. For doing everything you could to
protect Ash. To come back to me,” Harry ventures, not exactly sure Louis
was trying to come back to him. Ashton said he was though, so maybe
Louis could do with some reminding. He doesn’t give Louis time to
respond, just continues on, the cadence of his voice matching the slow
measured thrust of his hips, their heartbeats much faster than anything else.
“You’re the strongest person I know. You survived, Lou. Please never feel
guilty for surviving. You survived all of that because you are everything,
Louis. You are smart. You are kind. You try so hard to be a good person, but
you don’t have to try. You just are. I admire you so much for that.”
“Harry. I--” Louis' sentence trails off, but it sounds like the beginning of a
confession, his blue eyes watery and wide with honesty. Fitting since they
are in a church. He sure has confessed a lot to Harry today. Harry will never
know though, because Louis is now muttering under his breath. Rambling,
driving Harry mad with desire. “Right there. Fuck. Jesus Christ. So deep.
Harder. Need to feel it. Fuck. Please, Harry. Need it. Right there. So close.”
Harry can’t stop his hips from thrusting faster at Louis’ words, chasing his
release. He is so close. He just needs to get Louis there first. Louis’ cock is
hard and leaking, trapped between their bodies, providing him some
friction, the precome on the tip mingling with their tears.
Somewhere, in the back of Harry’s mind, he notices that Louis’ ass is

beginning to slip off the angled surface of the window sill. Before he has a
chance to stop and readjust them, Louis’ strong arms shoot out wide, hands
on either side of the window to brace himself. Harry looks at him, his entire
body bathed in the prism of light from the window behind him, the sweat
glistening under the multi colored hue. The top half of his body resembles
the depiction of the crucifiction of Jesus that is still hanging above the altar,
covered in spider webs and dust. Like Jesus, his body is wrecked, covered
in Harry’s marks and the scars from his time at camp. It takes Harry’s
breath away and makes his heart stutter in his chest. This is how Louis
should always be seen, bathed in a rainbow of light, his body shining and
writhing as Harry fucks into him.
“Even when you were gone, I swear I could feel your heart in side of mine,
forcing it to beat without you there,” Harry starts, placing a hand on Louis'
chest, gazing deep into his eyes as he says it, so Louis will know that he
means it. He means every single fucking word. His voice is so deep, he
barely recognizes it, as if he were drawn from a pit of gravel from his
emotion. He can feel the tears on his cheeks, see Louis’ matching ones.
Everything feels like it is happening in both slow motion and faster than the
speed of light. His hips never falter as he fucks Louis deep, hitting his
prostate with every harsh thrust, the sounds of Louis' moans, closer now to
screams, echoing throughout the church like the songs of a long forgotten
choir. Harry desperately wants to kiss him, but refrains, needing to say what
is on his mind.
“Your heartbeat has always been so strong, so fierce, sometimes beating

enough for both of us. I feel it, Lou. With every single fucking breath I take,
I feel it. You have my heart, Louis. You have it for all the times that you are
lonely, and especially when you forget who you are. You have all of me,
now. You have my heart. My fucking soul. It’s yours take it, and use it to
remember who you are. Never lose sight of it again, Louis because you are
the most beautiful creature in existence. The sweetest. I just hope that you
don’t run from me after this. That you never run from me again because you
are my sun. I can live without the sun, but I never want to again. Never
again, Lou,” Harry mummers, cupping Louis' jaw with his hand.
They are both openly bawling now, and Harry can’t stop himself from
leaning his head down to kiss Louis, sealing their lips together like a
promise. It’s wet and sloppy and fucking perfect. That must have been all
Louis needed because he screams into Harry’s mouth, sobbing harder as he
comes, his entire body tensing around Harry. Spurt after spurt of hot come
coats their bodies, and Harry can’t stop his own release from following. He
empties himself into Louis’ heat as it grips his cock like a vice. Harry
moans, continuing the rock of his hips as they both ride out what seem to be
never ending orgasms. Harry feels altered on every level of existence, his
world shifting because he just came inside Louis. Bare. There was nothing
separating them except unanswered questions and unresolved feelings.
There is something primal about that, something that makes Harry growl,
never wanting this moment to end.
They don’t say anything as they both come down from their highs, panting
and crying with an overflow of emotions that Harry can’t put words to. It’s
all consuming, taking over every fibre of his being and making a home
there, seeping its way into every single crack in Harry’s heart. It feels
almost healing, but he has no idea where Louis’ head is. He has no idea if
Louis feels the same as he does. Louis hasn’t expressed many of his
feelings towards Harry that don't involve guilt, shame, or rage. There are
just too many words left unspoken, too many feelings undefined, and Harry
almost see what's left of the sand flowing through the hourglass of time,
almost empty at the top and heavy at the bottom. He can feel the shift,
Louis becoming antsy and squirmy under him, prompting Harry to slowly
pull out.
“Are you okay?” Harry asks, his voice sounding raw. He knows it’s a dumb
question. Of course Louis isn’t okay. He probably won’t be without some
time and a lot of therapy, but it is out there. A question released into the
world that can never be answered. He looks at Louis though, hoping to
convey to the smaller man that he can talk to him. That Harry is there to
listen and to love him, no matter what. If that hasn’t been expressed yet,
Harry doesn't know how he will do it. He will find a way though, because
Louis needs to comprehend how special he truly is. How he is perfect just
the way he is, no changes needed. Harry will keep arguing. Keep using facts
to prove that who you love and are attracted to isn’t a choice, and he will
continue to hold out hope that Louis will someday believe him, even if that
day isn’t today.
“No. I’m not,” Louis responds, the honesty in his words piercing Harry’s
heart. He wonders if Louis can feel it too, their hearts connected somehow.
Louis winces as if he does, or maybe Harry imagines it. “They conditioned
me to feel shame for enjoying that. They told me I should be embarrassed
for the intimate moments I shared with men.” Louis' voice is hollow, his
blue eyes going distant, and Harry feels the panic rising in his system,
fisting his throat like the hand of God. Is Louis feeling shame now? He
didn’t say that he was, but Harry gets the feeling that he actually could be.
Aversion therapy is a hard thing to overcome.
“Lou. I-” Harry starts, but Louis cuts him off with a gentle kiss on his lips.
Harry feels like he is on a fucking rollercoaster because hope fills him once
more. Maybe Louis isn't ashamed of what happened. Maybe he doesn't feel
guilty. Maybe he isn’t associating it with pain. Harry hopes that Louis
didn’t intend such a sweet kiss to be the last one they shared between them,
like a kiss on a ‘Dear John’ letter. One of finality and heartache from
knowing something will never work. He hopes this isn’t Louis’ way of
loving him goodbye. That he didn’t just need one more taste to remind him
of the places they’ve been and the nights they’ve had, reminding him that it
is sinful and wrong. Fuck. Harry is so confused, so unsure of where they
stand right now.
“Shit. What time is it?” Louis asks, grabbing Harry’s wrist and looking at
his watch. His small fingers feel as though they are burning Harry’s skin.
His blue eyes go wide when he reads the time, dropping Harry’s wrist in a
rush. “Fuck. I have to go. I was supposed to be in the locker room twenty
minutes ago. Fuck! I’m so late. The coach is going to kill me!" Louis begins
scrambling then, trying to push Harry away so that he can get off the
window sill. Harry doesn’t want him to hurt his ankle from jumping down,
so he grabs Louis, and lets him slide slowly down his body until his feet
touch the floor. They both grimace as the come smears between them.
Harry is assuming that Louis is supposed to be at something related to

football, but doesn’t really know what. Liam told him that Louis joined the
team a couple of weeks ago, shortly after the day in the park. Whatever it is,
it seems important. He looks around, locating an old cloth on the floor. It is
dusty and is probably full of all sorts of disgusting things, but they need
something to wipe their come off with. He grabs it, swiping it across Louis’
stomach and chest first, then his own. He has no idea what the cloths
purpose was in this church, but he would assume it wasn’t for clean up of a
rather intense round of gay sex. Oh well. Harry has always been a fan of
recycling. Saving the damned planet and all of that.
“Look. I’m-- umm-- I’m sorry. I have to go,” Louis says, shoving his legs
into his jeans, looking around for his discarded t-shirt with the button and
zipper still undone, giving Harry an enticing peek of his boxer briefs. His
skin is marked, bruises from Harry’s teeth littering his chest like badges of
honor. Harry wants to trace them with his tongue. He wants to intensify
them so that they will never fade away. Harry never thought of himself as a
particularly possessive person, but he is when it comes to Louis. He always
has been in a lot of ways. Louis has been his since their first interaction,
regardless of how much Harry had tried to fight it or convince himself
otherwise.
“Where are you going? Lou, we should probably talk about things,” Harry
tries, voice strained as he shoves his own legs though the legs of his skinny
jeans and underwear at the same time, jumping up and down to get them the
rest of the way up. He catches the small smile Louis aims in his direction
before he hides his face by bending down to grab his shirt. He throws
Harry’s to him as well, the items of clothing somehow having ended up
together. Harry puts his on, arms first, before he pulls the material over his
curls to find Louis looking at him. Harry can almost see the thoughts
moving through his head at light speed, but he can’t read them which is
probably the most frustrating part. The kind of frustration that makes him
grit his teeth and want to squeeze something intangible hard until
everything makes sense.
“I have a game. It starts at seven. Actually I-- umm-- earlier when I saw you
with-- him-- I um-- I was actually coming to invite you. It’s my first game
back, but it's also homecoming, so I was nervous. Will you please come? I
know it’s short notice, and you may have other plans and--” Louis is
rambling now, the words coming out so fast, Harry can’t really keep up.
Louis tends to talk faster when he gets nervous, a personality quirk Harry
has always found endearing, even though Louis already talks quickly as is,
so talking faster only serves to make Harry’s head spin. Oh fuck. How
could Harry forget? No wonder Louis was in such a rush, and Harry wants
to smack his forehead for overlooking that fact.
“Lou. Lou,” Harry cuts him off before he begins spiraling. Harry smiles,
allowing it to reach his eyes, knowing that his dimples are on full display.
Louis bites his lip, clearly wanting to continue whatever train of thought he
was on, as he glances up to look Harry in the eyes. “Of course, I will come.
I wasn’t planning on missing it, actually. I did forget it was tonight, though.
I was too busy worrying about my Calc midterm. I’m sure I have a dozen
message from Ni asking where the hell I am. Niall, Ash, Luke, and I were
all going to be there. We knew you were playing. Liam told us it was your
first game, and we were gonna be there to support you, even though I
wasn’t sure if you wanted it from me.” The last admission is painful, but
Harry feels he needed to say it simply because it is true.
“You hate sports though,” Louis responds, as if that is the only thing that
needs to be said. He hugs himself, and Harry’s brows draw in concern at the
obvious change in body language. As if Louis wants to close in on himself,
insecurity written all over his face. Harry needs to put a stop to that right
now. Louis should never feel insecure. He hates that the camp did this to
him. He never had low self esteem before this. He may not ever gain that
same confidence back, however, Harry is going to do everything in his
power to rebuild it brick by fucking brick. Just like Louis had done for him.
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be supportive, love. Plus, I like
watching you run,” Harry adds, his tone taking on a flirtatious edge as he
smirks. Louis gives him a small smile, as if to thank him. It is definitely all
the thanks Harry needs. He wants to see Louis smile again. He yearns to see
the crinkles by his eyes. It feels like it has been far too long, those moments
few and far between in the last few months. Louis used to smile constantly,
and Harry hopes he will see him like that again one day. It will take time, of
course, Harry knows that better than anyone on this planet. It certainly took
Harry a lot of time to heal, but maybe, with his help, Louis can be well on
his way. If Louis doesn't run from him.
“I’ve gotta go…” Louis says, scratching at his arm where the blood has
dried. He winces, and Harry wants to go to him to inspect it, see what kind
of damage Louis has done. Harry is no stranger to self harm, after all. He
doesn't though, remembering how Louis seemed ashamed of it earlier. He
thought he did a good job making Louis realize he shouldn’t feel that way,
his own arms feeling naked. Harry doesn’t move to grab his bracelets
though, deciding he doesn’t need them anymore. He will wear his scars as
Louis told him to, as a token of his survival. A reminder of who he is and
what he will continue to fight for and against.
“But what about your arm?” Harry asks, gesturing instead of moving to
hold the wound in his hands. Louis looks down, as if he didn’t even
remember it was there. He probably didn’t even realize he was wincing just
a moment ago, used to pain at this point. It could get infected. He did it with
a dirty piece of glass after all, so he really should see a medical
professional. It didn’t look that deep, from what Harry could see. It doesn't
even seem to be bleeding anymore, which Harry is thankful for. He
probably didn’t do any major damage to the muscle or the nerves.
“It’s fine. I’ll have the athletic trainer clean it up and bandage it. Don’t
worry about it,” Louis says, waving his hand dismissively. Harry will take
that answer. That’s a medical professional after all. As long as they clean it,
then put a bandage on it, it should be fine. Louis rushes through his next
sentence, as if he wants to get it out. “Can we--umm-- meet me after the
game. Please. I don’t know where yet, but stick around. We can talk then. I
promise. Just meet me after the game?”
Before Harry can even find the words to formulate a response, Louis turns
to run down the aisle, in between the pews and out the door, into the fading
sunlight. Harry watches his retreating form for a few moments, realizing
with a certain sadness that Louis could very well not meet him after the
game. He may decide that God was just testing him again, then go back to
ignoring Harry. He may pray about it and make up some answering voice in
his head out of sheer desperation. Time makes people forget things,
especially if they want to forget them. Louis could use the next few hours of
football to forget all that has happened this afternoon.
His stomach drops when he realizes that Louis never said he loved him
back. Never returned the sentiment. Fuck. What if he doesn't? What if this
really was just his way of telling Harry goodbye? One final moment
between them to get it out of his system. Going back to a life of lies. Wives.
Picket fences. Two point five kids and a house. Probably ending in suicide
because he could never be content with that. Harry feels like he is going to
be sick. He feels changed by what just occurred, but what if Louis doesn't
feel the same? What if it wasn’t enough? Nothing was resolved. Fucking
doesn’t fix anything. Harry takes a deep breath to stop the tears from
coming, not wanting to go to this game with tears drying on his face as he
walks out of the church, pulling his phone out of his pocket to find missed
messages from both Niall and Ashton.
Chapter End Notes
I can't believe this fic is almost complete *cries in Larry*

My Name is Human
Chapter Summary
Find out what happens after Louis and Harry left the church.
Chapter Notes
Not much more to go! The next chapter will be the final one of the
story, then we have an epilogue. I'm gonna cry!

them.
Get up off your knees, boy
Stand face to face with your God
And find out what you are
Hello, my name is human
And I came down from the stars- Highly Suspect
“Tomlinson’s got the ball! With only five seconds left on the clock, he
needs a miracle to score,” the announcer's voice booms through the
speakers. Harry is on his feet, has been since the beginning of this quarter,
as he watches Louis look left, then right as he begins running, dodging guys
three times his size as he flies down the field. He hasn’t been ignoring
Harry during the game like Harry had expected. He and Liam have both
waved on more than one occasion towards the stands where Niall, Harry,
Luke and Ashton are sitting, which makes Harry feel a tiny bit better. Not
enough to completely push the anxiety out of his gut, still afraid Louis will
run away or drop to his knees in prayer in the middle of the field. Louis
doesn’t start praying, but he does start running in the direction of the
endzone.
“Go! Go! Go!” Harry chants, his voice hoarse from all the screaming he has
done this afternoon, first in the church, then while fucking Louis, and now
during the game. He was worried about Louis’ arm and his ability to
perform after getting fucked, but he seems to be fine overall. His arm is
wrapped up in bandages, the gloves in their school colors adorning his
small hands. Louis was warming up on the field with a little tenderness,
Harry noticed, while watching from the stands when they first arrived
talking to the others. He didn’t tell them what happened in the church, too
afraid of a relapse, but he thinks his friends know something happened
because he is wearing the marks left on his neck like a badge of honor.
They are. Harry feels like he has somehow survived a war and come out
victorious.
Harry can feel the smile pulling at his cheeks as he watches the blur of the
‘28’ fly down the field. Harry was secretly happy that Louis had managed
to secure the same number again, and wondered why Louis had done it
when he said he didn’t want anything to do with his old life. Maybe the
number is just as special to Louis as it is to Harry, and maybe Louis wasn’t
ready to let it go. Either way, Louis is running, dodging, and jumping as the
time on the clock ticks down. Whatever the announcer says is drowned out
by the crowd when Louis crosses into the endzone, the referee blowing his
whistle and holding up his arms to signal a successful touchdown. Every
single member of the team charges the field then, hoisting Louis up on their
shoulders in triumph because he just won them the game.
Harry feels like the pride he has for Louis is going to burst out of his chest
and drown the whole world. A few months ago, Louis wouldn't even leave
his room and flinched at the slightest touch. Now he is pulling off his
helmet, revealing the most beautiful smile, as he laughs with the rest of his
team when they carry him across the field. Harry finally sees Louis. His
Louis. The one he fell in love with. The person who shines brighter than
any of the lights surrounding the stadium. He has come so far, and Harry
just hopes, with everything in him, that he doesn’t start second guessing
himself now. Harry has always been a realist, so he is well aware of the fact
that Louis could still change his mind. He could go back to that self hatred
he had before, thinking he deserves everything that the camp forced him to
endure.
“He did it!” Niall cheers, his smile wide as he high fives Harry. Well Harry
didn’t have much of a choice in the matter, if he hadn’t put his hand up,
Niall would have smacked him in the face. Harry feels agitated now that the
game is over, wondering if Louis will still want to meet him afterwards. He
didn’t specify where they should meet, and Harry knows that Louis will
have a few obligations with the team after the game. The band starts
playing and the other team offers handshakes of congratulations and a game
well played. Harry watches until they all make their way off the field, into
the locker room to do whatever people who play sports do after the game.
Harry feels awkward, unsure of what he is supposed to do, so he looks over
to Niall.
“Li invited us to a post game party at one of the team member’s house. Do
you wanna go?” Niall asks, Ashton and Luke holding hands and smiling
beside him. They are all looking at him curiously, as if expecting Harry to
either agree to tell them what happened between them this morning and
how he was left Harry with a small smile, marks littering his body, and
anxiousness in his bones. Harry considers for one brief, crazy moment
telling them. They are his best friends, after all, but he can’t bring himself
to do it. If Louis runs again, then they will blame him because it would be
his fault for pushing Louis too hard. Harry would certainly blame himself,
but he would also continue to fight. He doesn’t ever want to give up on
Louis.
“Nah. You know that’s not really my thing. You guys go ahead,” Harry
responds with a smile, not able to stop his eyes from darting over to the
locker room every few seconds during his short reply. He is usually so good
at acting and keeping his emotions in check, but right now, he just can’t. He
is too nervous; his head is too full of 'what if'. He just can’t get the image of
Louis running from the church out of his mind. He has always had so many
trust issues, and this is no different. He trusts Louis; he just doesn't trust
what the camp did to him. He doesn't trust that Louis is completely out of
the woods, just teetering on the edge but still completely surrounded by
trees. Harry just needs to lead him the rest of the way out before Louis takes
off in the wrong direction, putting them back to square one. Harry knows
the way.
“How are you gonna get home? You rode with me this mornin’, and you
didn’t come back with me to get Ash and Luke because you were doin’ God
knows what. You don’t have a car with ya,” Niall points out, his eyes
squinting with the question. Harry coughs to cover up a laugh at the ‘God
knows what’ line because, well, it’s ironic. The fact that he spent an hour or
so with Louis in a church, first arguing with him, then fucking him…
well… God really should know what at this point. He doesn’t think God is
real, obviously, but if he is, then he definitely has seen a little bit of
everything today. Harry still doesn't care nor does he regret it. Then what
Niall said sinks in. Fuck. Harry didn’t think about that.
“Umm-- I’ll figure out a way home. I can always catch a ride with Nick. He
lives in the next town over, and he won’t mind. I think he said he would be
at the library studying late anyways,” Harry lies, and it doesn't even sound
convincing, not even to himself. Louis has always been the better liar of the
two of them; Harry is just better at avoiding questions. He can’t tell them
about Louis, and that, if he actually shows up, he can probably ride home
with him. He is putting a lot of faith in Louis meeting him. Faith. The word
of the fucking year, it seems. Harry has no issues with faith, as long as it is
based in fact. He thinks, right now, there is enough evidence that Louis may
actually meet him to have a little faith, even though the thought of it pains
him. Faith is what got them into this in the first place. It is what makes good
people blind to the world around them. The world could do with a little less
faith, if you ask him.
“Liar,” Ashton declares, wagging his finger at Harry as if he is scolding

him. Harry looks at Niall, who just nods his head and crosses his arms,
brows raised waiting for an explanation. Harry begs them with his eyes, but
they all stand firm, the quietness of the group drowning out the happy
chatter of the remaining crowd. The only movement is when Ashton
rearranges his and Luke’s limbs so he is standing behind Luke, his chin
resting on the younger boy’s shoulder, playfully biting at Luke’s t-shirt until
Luke bats him away. It’s adorable and couple-y in a way that makes Harry
want to punch someone. He just wants that with Louis. He doesn't know if
he has it, and that is what is eating away at him.
“Fine. Louis and I had-- an umm-- conversation before this, and he -- umm-
- wants to meet after the game to talk,” Harry admits, scratching at his
bracelet-less arms. They definitely noticed when he showed up without
them, even though all three boys did a very good job of masking their shock
and not blatantly staring at the scars on his arms. He almost ran back to the
church to grab them, but decided to leave them there. It’s fitting really.
Leaving the things he used to hide behind. He hopes that Louis left his faith
there, which he used for the very same purpose. Now, it almost feels
freeing. As if he was trapped with the bracelets, forever ashamed of who he
is and what he had done to himself. He believed the words that Louis had
said that night, but he never put forth the action to show it. Now he has. He
just hopes that it’s enough.
“I knew it!” Ashton exclaims, while Niall’s expression morphs into one of
shock, his mouth forming a large ‘O’ as he shrieks, “Why didn’t you tell
us!?” Harry can feel his cheeks reddening at their reactions, probably a dead
give away to the fact that they didn’t just talk. His mind flashes back to
moments in the church, Louis on his knees in the pew while Harry ate him
out, his moans sounding almost like a whispered prayer as he gripped the
old wood. Harry can still hear it creak under the pressure, letting Harry
know when he did something that Louis very much enjoyed. The way that
Louis rocked his hips back on Harry’s fingers, wanting more, even though
they were in a place that Louis was supposed to find sacred. Harry shakes
his head, trying to dislodge the image before he gets an unsightly boner in
his very tight jeans.
“I didn’t want to like… jinx it or anything. Everything is still up in the air.

He may not even show up. He may second guess everything that umm--
happened-- and say it was a mistake, then we will be back to square one.
That’s why I didn’t tell you all. I didn’t want you to blame me if shit hit the
fan again, and he decides to keep fighting who he is,” Harry responds, the
honesty in his admission hurting his heart. He has been thinking about it all
day, but saying it aloud to his friends adds a different weight to it. As if
putting it out into the world, letting the air hit it, will cause a chemical
reaction and solidify everything.
“Oh, H, we wouldn’t blame you for that at all. You’re doing everything you
can; he just needs to meet you halfway,” Niall starts, his eyes soft now.
Harry wants to cry all of the sudden because Niall doesn’t pity him; he
understands him. He understands how hard this has been for Harry, and
maybe Harry should let Niall see a bit more of himself like he has done
with Ashton and Louis. Niall deserves it. He has been his best friend
through all of Harry’s highs and lows, always offering support and advice.
Niall loves him. Before Harry can say anything, Niall continues, “It sounds
like a flicker of hope, though, like electrical spark at the start of fireworks
or the starting spark that ignites a flame. Hopefully it doesn’t fizzle out, but
even if it does, you can always create more light.”
Who knew Niall could be so… poetic? Harry makes a mental note to
encourage Niall to start writing. He may be good at it because what he just
said was fucking beautiful. A flicker of hope is what Louis gave him earlier,
and that is all Harry needs. He just needs to coax that flicker, gently stoak it
until it turns into something more for both of them, something powerful. He
used to depend on Louis to create the light, but now he knows he is also
capable of it. Louis was in a dark place at the church, and Harry pulled him
out of it. Perhaps Harry just needed to be shown how to create it in order to
do it himself. Maybe Louis taught him how, and he didn’t even realize it.
“Yeah. You’re right. I just have to hope that Louis won’t run from me.
Maybe he won’t turn his back on us again,” Harry says, nodding his head in
resolution. He looks up to find Niall smiling at him, his blue eyes shining in
the stadium light. Ashton looks skeptical, which isn’t shocking because
Ashton is a lot like him in that way. He never really believes anything until
he sees it. He isn’t much for hope, just like Harry. He can’t see Luke’s eyes
because he is wearing a ridiculous pair of sunglasses even though it’s dark.
He thinks he looks cool, and Harry doesn’t have the heart to tell him he
looks like an idiot. He is biting his lip, the black lip ring clanking against
his teeth, which tells Harry that he is nervous.
“Looks like they are starting to trickle out,” Niall says, looking over Harry’s
shoulder. Harry turns, his stomach flipping uncomfortably as he watches a
few of the players walk out of the locker room, greeting various people. He
swallows the nerves that are climbing up his throat, threatening to come out
in the form of vomit. He can feel his body stiffening, his breathing
becoming shallow and uneven. When both of Niall’s hands come down to
clap him on his shoulders, squeezing, his attention snaps back to him,
feeling as though he was slammed back down to reality. Niall’s eyes are
wide and honest, his head bowed a bit, looking at Harry making sure to
maintain eye contact.
“You can do this, Hazza. I know you can. Last year around this time, you
were freaking the fuck out because he kissed you in the back stairwell of
the school, and you wouldn’t have even considered removing your
bracelets,” Niall begins, looking down at Harry’s arm before he looks back
up. Harry resists the urge to cover it, suddenly feeling somewhat exposed.
Instead, he concentrates on Niall’s words, letting them soothe him, “Look
how far you’ve come. You know what you want now, and you aren’t afraid
of it. I’m so fuckin’ proud of ya. We all are. Louis needs you just as much
as you need him, so Harry, for the love of everything unholy, go get your
boy.”
“Yeah. Okay. You’re right. I can do this,” Harry responds, nodding his head
at Niall. He can’t see the others, but he is sure they are in agreement with
him. Niall smiles wide, clapping his hands on Harry’s shoulders, then
squeezes them one last time before they drop to his sides. Now Ashton and
Luke come into view, both smiling at Harry, Ashton’s arms slung casually
around Luke’s waist as he rests his chin on his shoulder. Harry takes a few
deep breaths, mentally psyching himself up as he glances back to see more
people exit the locker room, none of them are Louis though. He tells
himself that doesn't mean anything, and Louis probably didn’t slip out the
back. “Thanks, Ni.”
“Anytime, H. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Or wait, yes do stuff I

wouldn’t do because that is what your sex involves. Lemme know if you
need a ride, you know, if Louis doesn’t give you one,” Niall says with a
wink. Harry tries not to smile but fails, especially when he sees Ashton
hiding his face in Luke’s shoulder in laughter, Luke bent over in much the
same way. Niall has always been good at lightening the mood.
“Fuck off,” Harry laughs, flipping Niall off as he turns to run in the
direction of the locker room, ignoring the moths that are currently taking up
residence in his stomach. He really needs to get that shit tattooed as a
reminder of how Louis makes him feel. He probably shouldn’t get a tattoo
that symbolizes a boy he is in love with that may or may not return the
sentiment, but he has already done that with the heart. Louis drew it there
first, then he got it tattooed. He never regretted it, even when he had
thought Louis left him. He ignores Niall’s, Luke’s, and Ashton’s shouts of
‘text me!’, ‘love ya!’ and ‘use a condom!’ as he runs down the bleachers,
making his way towards the locker room.
He stands there for what feels like an eternity, as different people filter out,
but none of them have blue eyes and freckles. Each moment he waits it
feels like the fist in his stomach twists harder and harder. He feels exposed
standing out here, almost on the field, under the lights of the stadium
foolishly waiting for someone who may have ran in the other direction. It
feels strangely like the last homecoming game he went to, except then he
was hidden under the shroud of the bleachers with no witnesses. He is just
about to give up and text Niall when he spots a short figure making his way
out of the door, wearing the same clothing he was wearing earlier. The
bandages on Louis’ arm are gone, the cut looking red and angry but closed
up. Harry freezes, unsure of how the next few moments are going to play
out.
Louis’ smile is small when he walks up to Harry, but it’s there. Harry
returns it, allowing his front teeth to show slightly, but not wide enough to
be too much. He doesn’t want Louis to feel like he needs to be happy if he’s
not. Harry is relieved though, because he was so terrified that Louis had
slipped out, and they would be back to where they began back in August.
He still resists the urge to reach out and grab Louis, wanting nothing more
than to hold the other man in his arms and never let him go. Instead, as
much as it pains him to do so, he keeps his arms at his sides, wanting Louis
to make the first move because he isn’t sure what exactly is going on his
head. Louis’ words about feeling ashamed afterwards haunts him.
“I’m glad you came,” Louis says, and Harry wants to scoff. As if he
wouldn’t come. Doesn't Louis realize that he is the single most important
person in Harry’s life? Now that Louis is closer, Harry can see that he looks
tired, but not unhappy. His eyes aren’t hollow like they have been, he even
sees a little of the old spark back in them. Harry’s mind goes back to Niall’s
words, 'a flicker of hope'. That’s what he sees in Louis’ eyes, and he is
elated that some of the boy he knew is still in there, still thriving despite
everything. Harry just needs to hang onto him, coax him out a bit more,
help him grow.
“Of course I did,” Harry responds, shrugging his shoulders, going for
nonchalant. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, wanting to give himself
something to do with his hands. Louis glances down, eyes widening when
he realizes what Harry decided to leave his bracelets in the church, but he
doesn’t say anything right away. Louis watched him take them off this time.
Before that, Harry had cut them off and before that Louis had taken them
off slowly, kissing each scar that was revealed with so much love, Harry
thinks he started crying. He knows now that Louis loved him then, and
every single day, he wishes he would have told him before he went to that
camp. Well he did tell him, in the form of a poem, but was that enough?
Should he have been more verbal about it? The poem didn’t actually say the
words, so Louis, assuming that he read it, still may not have quite
understood it. Perhaps things would have been different if Harry had just
said it, instead of taking the cowardly way out and expressing it in the form
of writing.
“Remember when I asked you to meet after the homecoming game last
year, and you scared the fuck out of me under the bleachers?” Louis asks,
and Harry is taken aback, not expecting that at all. He thought he was the
only one reliving old memories tonight, but evidently not. Apparently this
all seems familiar to Louis as well. Harry smiles down at him because he
had forgotten about scaring him. He didn’t mean to, well at least he doesn’t
remember doing it intentionally. He was so fucking nervous going in there,
almost not wanting to but allowing his curiosity to get the better of him. He
is so glad he did. He thought he would regret it, but he doesn’t regret a
single fucking second of his relationship with Louis.
“Yeah. I think I apologized for that,” Harry responds, laughing. It feels

friendly, which is strange since Louis hasn’t been anywhere close to
friendly with him in the past few months. Harry feels as though he is
breathing fresh air again, like he has spent too much time in a prison or a
cave, and he finally feels the sun on his skin, new air to breathe. He can
inhale easily again, but he just hopes its not a false sense of security. That
he isn’t hallucinating, only to be yanked back down into that dark, dank
place where hope is lost.
“I believe all you said was ‘Oops’,” Louis says, a smirk playing on his lips,
his tone teasing. Harry very much wants to kiss him.
“Then you said ‘Hi’,” Harry points out, barely resisting the urge to bop
Louis on the nose like he would have a few months ago, or maybe just kiss
his freckles. He remembers the words clear as day, for some reason they
have stuck in his mind, almost like something shifted that day between
them. It had though. That was the true beginning of their relationship, when
they admitted to wanting to take things further. That was when they kissed
under the shelter of the bleachers, the multicolored lights from the
fireworks peeking through. Everything was new. Everything was scary.
Harry still feels that way on some level. He is definitely scared.
“Harry. Can we um-- go somewhere a bit more private to talk?” Louis asks,
looking up at Harry from underneath his eyelashes. Harry’s heart feels like
a deflated balloon. Of course Louis wouldn’t want to do this in front of all
of these people. He wouldn’t want to be gay out in the open, for everyone to
see. Harry tries not to let the disappointment show on his face. He just can’t
help the sinking feeling in his gut, the one telling him that Louis wants to
go somewhere a bit more private to tell Harry that he can’t do this anymore.
That he needs to devote himself to his faith and all the other things that
Harry thinks are bullshit.
“Yeah. We can go back to my place. Ash is partying with Ni while Mom

and Robin are having their monthly date night, which means they are gonna
get a hotel,” Harry responds, taking a deep breath, trying to steady his
shaking limbs. He at least wants to prepare himself for the harsh blow Louis
is about to give him. He will be in the comfort of his own home, so when
Louis leaves, Harry will have the freedom to curl into a ball and cry. Maybe
he will text Niall or someone to tell them what happened. He has learned
that just because he is sad doesn’t mean he needs to slip into a dark place.
It’s okay to cry, as long as he doesn’t cut or do anything harmful to himself.
There are other methods of dealing with the pain that are far less self
destructive.
“Okay. I have my car. I can drive,” Louis says, then he does something
Harry wasn’t expecting. He pushes up on his tiptoes, kissing Harry on his
left cheek, right where his dimple is deepest, then trails his hand down
Harry’s arm, intertwining their fingers. It tickles when Louis touches his
scars, but it also makes Harry’s poor stomach do another somersault. The
damn thing will definitely be ready for the Olympics if it keeps up this
tumbling act. Harry stiffens, looking around to see if anyone saw. There are
people around them, one guy from the team actually looking at them, but
Louis seems unbothered. He tugs Harry in the direction of his car, both men
quiet as they walk.
The silence follows and settles into the car alongside them as Louis drives
them away from campus, the distinct sound of fireworks echoing in the
otherwise quiet space. Louis doesn’t flinch at the loud noise, which Harry
counts as a win. Before, he would recoil from the sound of the classroom
door opening, now he seems unphased. Every now and again, one will
break the treeline, it’s colors painting Louis’ face in red, blue, and green
hues. Harry thinks the stained glass from the church was prettier, but
doesn’t comment. He just watches them explode in the sky, the colorful
trails slowly fizzling out until it’s gone in a cloud of smoke. For some
reason, all important moments in their relationship always seems to be
accompanied by fireworks. Harry thinks that’s strange, and almost brings it
up, but thinks better of it when he realizes that Louis may not want to
discuss their relationship at all.
Harry can't help but tap his foot, the anxious energy bubbling within him
needing to be released somehow. His mind is whirring with questions. If
Louis was going to tell him to fuck off, then why did he kiss him on the
cheek then hold his hand in front of all those people? What if Harry had
imagined the whole thing, and they just walked with six feet of distance
between them to the car? Harry knows the second scenario is far fetched
and slightly crazy, but his brain just won’t allow him to believe that maybe
Louis wants this. After everything they’ve been through, the push and pull
of their relationship, it’s hard to believe that maybe, just maybe, they can
finally be okay. Well, Louis will probably need years of therapy before he is
okay, and Harry will need to continue his therapy, however, maybe they can
move towards a better place, together.
Harry feels like it is a forty day journey through the fucking desert before
they finally arrive at his house, the porchlight on, signaling that no one is
home. Does that make Louis Moses in this scenario? Louis is way better
looking that Moses, even though Harry has no idea what Moses looked like.
Louis is the prettiest person that has ever existed though, so it is doubtful
that Moses could even hold a candle to him. Louis shuts of the ignition, the
car becoming even more silent, making the rubber band in Harry’s stomach
pull even tighter. It is going to snap any minute, and Harry feels like he is
going to jump out of his skin from anticipation of the pain from the release
of the rubber band. He takes a few deep breaths, glancing over at Louis who
seems to be doing the same.
The silence continues as both men exit the vehicle, the doors slamming with
a finality that Harry doesn’t quite understand. Their steps echo as they cross
the concrete driveway, then the porch, some of the floorboards squeaking
below their feet. Harry clears his throat as he squeezes a shaky hand into his
tight pocket, pulling out his keys, almost losing a ring in the process. It
takes him a few tries, but he eventually unlocks the door, opening it and
ushering Louis through. Harry doesn’t bother turning on the lights as they
both slip off their shoes. Louis nods in the direction of Harry’s room,
signalling that is where he wants to go, so he grabs Louis’ hand to help him
down the dark hallway since he knows it is mostly unfamiliar to him. Louis
hasn’t set foot into Harry’s house since Prom, and Harry’s heart shudders at
the thought. He can’t help feeling a similar sort of dread, as if he is walking
to what could very well be his execution.
When they walk into his room, Harry doesn’t turn on the overhead light.
Instead, he goes to the night stand and turns on the Himalayan salt lamp that
resides there, bathing the room in a very soft pink glow. Harry’s cheeks heat
up when he realizes that he left this morning in a hurry, not bothering to
make his bed. The comforter is laying in a ball in the corner of his bed
while the sheets are in slight disarray, his pillows askew. “Sorry,” Harry
mumbles breaking the awkward silence, moving to fix it.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure mine looks much worse,” Louis tells him
with a smile, grabbing his elbow to stop him. Harry returns his smile, but it
does nothing to break the tension that has built up in the room or loosen the
rubber band that is being held taut by some invisible force in his gut. He
stands for a moment, unsure of what to do, then Louis sits down on his bed,
crossing both legs under himself, looking small and comfortable. He pats
the space in front of him, and Harry sits down too, much in the same way,
so they are facing each other. Louis is looking down, picking at a thread on
his jeans, his eyelashes casting intricate shadows over his high, freckled
cheekbones.
“Umm-- First, I want to apologize,” Louis starts, looking up to meet Harry’s

eyes. Harry opens his mouth to oppose, but is silenced by a small finger on
his lips. “Listen, please.” Louis’ eyes are honest and shiny, so Harry closes
his mouth and nods, Louis dropping his hand down to land on Harry’s,
squeezing it. Harry already feels like crying because this feels like a
breakup to him for some reason. Letting him down easy, giving him a
friendly squeeze on the hand then patting him goodbye. Can they even
break up though when they were never really dating? Harry doesn’t know,
but his chest is already aching because of something that hasn’t even
happened yet. He feels like he can’t breathe.
“I knew I wanted to apologize, but I didn’t know exactly why, even though
I knew that would be the first question you asked when I did,” Louis starts,
and he isn’t wrong. That was the exact question Harry was going to ask
before Louis stopped him. Louis seems to have been thinking about this
conversation as much as Harry, which makes him feel a small sense of
relief, but maybe he only thought about how he was going to do it. Maybe
he is thinking clearer now, but he still has some belief that what they had is
wrong. What they did was unholy. Harry stays quiet, watching Louis pause
to formulate his reasoning for apologizing. Harry may or may not be
holding his breath, his curiosity peaking.
“I’ve thought a lot about it between the church and now. I’m sorry for
pushing you away and being so mean to you. You didn’t deserve that. I was
just so confused. I didn’t want to believe that I went through all of that for
nothing, you know? I was hanging on until Ashton got away, and they put
me in isolation. It was my worst nightmare, Harry. I had never even been
alone before that, and suddenly I was in a room with no windows and no
one to talk to. It was horrifying, and I lost it. I lost my sense of self. I had
just started praying to God when my mom came in with the police. I
thought the last shred of my sanity had given way, and I was hallucinating.
That’s how fucked up I was. I know it’s not an excuse for how I acted…”
Louis trails off, looking down again.
“Yes it is! I was mean to you when we first met. Remember? Now that you
know about Logan, you can understand that. You were just scared and had
experienced something extremely traumatic, of course you are going to
react that way. You’re human, Louis. I’m not mad at you for how you acted
towards me. I’m just glad you did talk to me eventually,” Harry tells him,
placing a palm under his jaw and gently lifting his face up. He wipes away
the tear falling down Louis’ cheek with the pad of his thumb, love for the
boy swelling in his chest.
“I really couldn’t stop myself. I tried so hard to be the person they wanted
me to be, someone that God would approve of, but I just couldn't. I blamed
you for that, which is completely unfair. You weren’t doing anything
wrong, really. Just existing. You were trying to talk to me about what
happened, what they told me, doing what you have always done. You
provided me with the facts, nothing else, and I got defensive. I just… like…
I missed you so much. All I wanted while I was there was to come back to
you. It’s all I fought for, even though I didn’t know how you felt about me,”
Louis says, shaking his head, more tears falling.
“Wait. You never read my letter?” Harry asks, surprised. He figured Louis
had at least gotten to read it, maybe before Mark confronted him, but
apparently Harry was wrong. Louis went there, without knowing how Harry
felt about him. How could that be possible? Harry’s head is spinning with
this new information. Holy shit! That explains Louis’ reaction when Harry
told him he loved him in the church. Harry feels so guilty now. Maybe if he
had had the balls to tell Louis sooner, then he would have had something
else to hang on to while he was there. Maybe he wouldn’t have broken.
Harry sniffles, feeling a few tears slide down his cheek at the thought. He is
such a fucking coward.
“Hey, don't cry, love,” Louis says softly, wiping Harry’s tears away. It only
makes Harry cry harder because he should be the one comforting Louis, but
he isn’t strong enough. He looks down at his arm, easily finding the
uncovered scars as a tear falls onto one. He hates himself. He hates that he
didn’t have the balls to tell Louis to his face how he felt. He hates that
Louis came out because of him, which caused Mark to force Louis into that
camp. He hates how weak he feels right now for not comforting Louis
through this, instead of crying like the pathetic failure that he is. He really
doesn’t deserve Louis. He doesn’t even deserve to be in the same room with
someone so beautiful and strong.
“Harry. Please calm down. You need to breathe, love. Can you do that for
me,” Louis says, placing a warm hand over Harry’s racing heart, and grabs
Harry’s hand to place over his own. Harry tries to match his breaths to
Louis’, calming down a bit from that alone. “It wouldn’t have mattered if I
had read the letter or not Harry, places like that brainwash you. They break
down your sense of self and attempt to reprogram you. You made me
realize that. Nothing in that letter could have saved me because I grew up
believing what they were telling me. You are the reason I held on as long as
I did, Harry. You are the reason I was able to get Ash out of there, don’t you
understand that? Fuck, Harry. You took my fucking hand and lead me
through the darkness, like the light of the moon, helping me see until I was
out of the forest. I felt like I snapped out of it at the church, like I was
finally able to see clearly again, and you did that.”
Harry’s heart is racing but for a different reason now. Louis’ expression is
honest and tender, and Harry wants to kiss him. He doesn’t though, still
unsure of where they stand. He hates the uncertainty. It feels like it is eating
him alive, tiny parasitic beings gnawing at his flesh until he is nothing but
bones. He is confused when Louis reaches into his back pocket, pulling out
his wallet. He watches with curious, tear filled eyes as Louis opens it,
pulling out a folded piece of paper that mirrors what Harry’s insides feel
like. It is mangled and worse for wear, haphazardly taped back together.
Almost as if at some point it had been nothing but a pile of shredded pieces.
Louis sits his wallet down on the night stand then begins carefully
unfolding the page, as if he is afraid that he will tear it. He very well may, it
looks so fragile, just like Harry's heart.
“You still have it?” Harry asks, when he sees his own hand writing on the
page, ‘The Ark’ written at the top in big bold letters. He never thought he
would see the poem again, having believed Louis had ripped it up after he
read the words Harry had inked onto the page, straight from his barely
beating heart. Harry can’t stop himself from reaching a tentative hand down
to trace the letters, Louis still holding it while he does so, watching him.
“Yeah. Mark ripped it up that day, before I got the chance to read it. Mom
said that after Mark took me, she went up to my room and gathered up the
pieces then taped them back together, thinking I may want to read it
someday since it was clearly important to me. She said she never read it
because she knew it was personal between us. She gave it to me after I was
rescued. I umm-- I refused to read it at the time, but she put it in my wallet
telling me to read it when I was ready,” Louis explains, glancing down at
the paper, then back up to Harry, meeting his eyes. Harry has the feeling
that Louis hasn’t touched it, probably ignoring it, like Harry had done with
the packet of lube, until today. “I’m ready now, though. Can you umm--
Can you read it to me?”
Harry freezes for a split second, then Louis is handing the poem to him,
smiling in encouragement. Harry takes it with shaking hands. Hope fills his
system, despite all odds, because it doesn’t seem like Louis is going to tell
him to fuck off. He doesn't know where Louis stands with his faith, but if he
is asking Harry to read the poem, then that has to mean that he doesn’t
really believe that God will hate him for loving a man. He let Harry fuck
him in a church for Christ’s sake, and he hasn’t mentioned regretting it at
all. There is always tomorrow, but right now, Louis doesn’t seem to care
about his God or his religion. He is asking Harry to read something that he
knows holds his innermost feelings. Louis wouldn’t do that if he still
thought he was diseased, would he?
He doesn’t know if he can do this. He was just belittling himself for not
telling Louis how he felt to his face, but now here he is, scared to read the
poem he wrote. He has already told Louis that he loves him, but that was in
the heat of the moment. He was angry and was trying to get through to
Louis. It probably wasn’t the best time to say it, but he did it anyway. He
honestly thought Louis had already known. This time it feels different. This
time it is intimate. There is no screaming or praying. It is just Harry and
Louis, no God between them. He looks down, clearing his throat and takes
a deep breath before he begins reading, begging himself not to throw up.
God of light
Goddess of dark
Within this flood
I build my ark
With nails made from bone

Of the souls that I shed
And wood made from flesh
Of a world left for dead
I need your guidance

In this chaotic mind
A little piece
Of a boy left behind
Give me a reason
Give me a call
Give me a purpose
As the rain begins to fall
I prayed for stability

In a life with no cause
A world that was mine
Where I made the crimes and the laws
You sent me blue eyes
My new reality
He is my light
It is he who made me
This pain in my chest

Is welcoming and real
Unlike the Gods
Who wants me to kneel
I found love
All on my own
A love that I built
Without you on a throne
You sent a storm

Out of anger and hate
You are not real
There is no fate
This rain isn’t punishment

It’s not my demise
Storms just happen
The sun will rise
So I constructed this boat

To float on the waters
Of nature’s storm
This rain is simply for starters
I’ve lived through the worst

Now with unblinking eyes
I sail towards the future
In an ark free of lies
Harry is shocked when he looks up to find Louis is weeping, his whole

body shaking with it. Harry lays the poem to the side, reaching for Louis.
The smaller man collapses willingly into his arms, crying into his chest. He
has no idea what prompted this reaction from Louis, but he is allowing
Harry to hold him, which he is happy to do for as long as it takes. Harry
will hold him forever, if he has to. If this is what Louis needs, then Harry
will do it. They may be broken and damned, according to some religions,
but they will find a way through this. They will walk through the fire, hand
in hand, together. Always together because Harry will never let Louis go
again.
“Shh. It’s okay, love,” Harry comforts, running one hand through Louis’
hair and rubbing his back with the other. Louis sniffles, beginning to calm
down, and Harry wants to sigh in relief. He continues holding him,
whispering sweet words into his ear about how strong and brave he is.
About how he is the most beautiful person Harry has ever laid eyes on,
inside and out, no being, heavenly or otherwise, could ever compare. He
hopes this is just the emotions of the night catching up to Louis, and Louis
hasn't returned to his feelings of self hatred. Harry understands that. He
knows how difficult it is to break away from that mindset, especially when
so many have told him that he is wrong . Harry is shocked when Louis
raises his head abruptly, finding Harry’s gaze with tearfilled eyes.
“Your poem, Harry, it’s so fucking beautiful. I can’t believe you wrote
something like that for me. I wish I could put into words how you make me
feel. I wish I could explain it in the way that you did, but I can’t. You’re just
so special to me. You always have been even, if I was too blinded by my
faith to see it these past few months. You never gave up, though. Thank you
for not giving up. I was so lost. I was so fucking lost in my own head, in the
confusion. Fuck! I needed you, and you were always there. I love you so
much, Harry. I’m sorry I let them convince me otherwise. I’m so fucking
sorry because I have loved you for so long now. I should have told you. I’m
so proud of you, Harry. You’ve come so far,” Louis rambles, tears
streaming down his face with his words, falling on their arms, their hands
linked between them. Harry’s own mingle with Louis', painting their scars
with the clear liquid.
Harry feels like his heart stopped beating with Louis’ confession. Holy
fuck. Louis just told him he loves him, and Harry feels as though he has had
new life breathed into him, making his heart beat once again, this time more
strong and sure. He knows it wasn’t some arbitrary God that made him feel
alive again, that saved him. It was Louis. It’s Louis’ heart beating inside of
his own that brought it back to life. It’s Louis who brought light into his
world again, the sun provides light, afterall. It has always been Louis and
will always be Louis. Harry doesn’t get a chance to respond because Louis
is kissing him. He tastes like sweet wine, tobacco, and salt from their tears.
Perfect really. The kiss is gentle and sweet, tongues melding together with
no intention of taking it further, both men far too tired.
“I love you, Louis. Please never run from me again. Please. If you’re ever
lost, I’ll be your light. You’ll never feel like you’re alone,” Harry says,
breaking their kiss to look in Louis’ eyes, kissing him again afterwards
because he can, and he missed it more than a fish misses the water. Louis’
lips are firm and sure, and Harry thinks that perhaps Louis missed this just
as much. Harry still can’t believe this is happening, expecting to wake up
any moment now from this lovely dream. He should probably pinch
himself, but that would require him to let go of Louis, which isn’t going to
happen anytime soon.
“I won’t. I promise. I won’t. I realized that the reason why I felt so lost is
because you’re my home, Harry. I will never run away from you again. I’m
going to go to therapy. I am going to get help. I don’t want to continue to let
what they did to me dictate how I live my life. I think I am still going to
have bad days, but I want to get better. I want to learn to accept myself
again. I know I can with you. I already feel a lot better because of you.
Thank you for helping me through my break down. Thank you for not
giving up and leaving me there, like I had begged you to do,” Louis says,
his voice low, even though there is no one around to hear them. Harry nods,
kissing him again because he isn’t sure what to say. Louis never left him
during his breakdowns. He sat there, and helped him through each one. He’s
glad Louis wants to go to therapy, though. He needs it to sort through the
confusion. He is still going to have really bad days, and Harry knows he
won’t be able to handle it for him. Louis needs to learn coping mechanisms
for himself.
“Why don’t we get a shower and go to bed? I’m sure you’re exhausted after
winning the game,” Harry says, seeing the signs of fatigue in Louis’ body
settling in. Louis’ eyes have begun to droop, and he is leaning into Harry
more than he was before, as if exhaustion is weighing down on his bones.
Harry has no idea how he is still upright. First, his near breakdown and their
huge argument that had to be mentally draining, then their bout of slightly
rough sex, afterwhich he played a fucking football game, which is
physically demanding. It is a damn miracle that he hasn’t fallen asleep in
Harry’s arms.
Louis blinks slowly at him, nodding and smiling. Harry gets up from the
bed, helping Louis to his feet, guiding them into the shower. With each
moment that passes, Louis becomes more pliant, his eyes becoming heavier
and heavier. Harry does most of the work, washing Louis’ hair, then his
own. He washes their bodies, carefully around Louis cut, doing his absolute
best not to get distracted by the expanse of Louis skin that he has been
deprived of for so long, littered with marks Harry put there just hours ago.
When he kisses the cut gently Louis beams at him, the crinkles by his eyes
making Harry's breath stutter. Once they are clean, he dries them both off,
then leads them back into his room. He’s not really tired, but he will lay
with Louis. He never wants to leave his side again.
“Is that my journal?” Louis asks, pointing to the notebook that is peeking
out from under Harry’s pillow. Harry nods in the affirmative. He hopes that
seeing it doesn’t set Louis back. He had forgotten it was even under his
pillow. “Ash told me you had it. Have you read it, yet?” Louis’ voice is
light and raspy as he blinks slowly at Harry, wearing nothing but Harry’s
over-sized t-shirt. He looks so soft and cuddly. Harry missed seeing him in
his clothing, and thought he may not ever see it again.
“No,” Harry answers, taking the comforter in both hands, and flicking his
wrists up so that it floats down on the bed. He grabs the pillows, fluffing
them before laying them back down on the journal. He looks up to find
Louis peering at him with confusion. Harry can almost see the 'why'
forming on his lips and decides that Louis probably doesn't even have the
energy to ask the simple question, so he answers. “I felt like if I read it, I
would be invading your privacy. I know how protective I am over my
writing. You didn’t give me permission, so I didn’t read it.”
“Oh. Well, I give you permission. I already told you most of it, but that will
help give you a timeline of sorts. Where my head was while it was
happening. Only read it if you want to though. It’s… well… it may be hard
for you to read, so it is up to you,” Louis says, his words slower than Harry
has ever heard him speak as he bites his lip. Harry nods, folding back the
covers and helping Louis slide in between them, listening to Louis sigh as
Harry gets in behind him, holding him close. Harry is actually going to be
the big spoon for once because it feels right. He grabs the journal, flipping
it open using the light from the lamp that is still bathing the room. He
listens to Louis breathing as it slows and deepens.
“Hazza,” Louis says softly, Harry pausing right in the middle of the second
journal entry, his heart aching for past Louis already. He can almost feel
Louis’ confusion, getting angry at what Adam forced him to do. Even then,
Louis was smart enough to recognize he was being brainwashed. He just
didn’t know how to stop it from happening, and he hated himself for it.
Harry can feel the tears threatening to leak from his eyes, but bites his lip,
taking a deep breath.
“Yeah, baby?” Harry asks, his voice cracking on the words. He had thought
Louis was fast asleep, so he is surprised by the sound of his voice. He holds
his breath, curious as to what Louis is going to say. He thinks it may be
important for some reason, so he feels as though he is standing at the
precipice of a mountain, looking down into the fog, unsure of what lies on
the other side when he jumps. There is an anticipation in his gut, and he
wonders if this is the same feeling people get when they skydive.
“I’ve decided I don't want to go to heaven. You are my heaven, my saving

grace. If such a place exists, and I don’t think it does anymore, I will not
find myself there. I don’t wanna be there. I would much prefer going to Hell
with you. At least there, we will be together, and that sounds like paradise
to me,” Louis says, his voice barely above a whisper. A tear falls down
Harry’s cheek at his words. He would respond, but he is sure Louis is asleep
now, so he squeezes his hip and kisses his forehead. He continues reading,
until he finishes it, the sick feeling in his stomach only intensified by the
last entry.
He sits it to the side, reflecting on it as he turns off the light. Louis’
eyelashes are fluttering, his eyes darting behind his lids, caught in a dream.
He begins twitching, groaning a bit, and Harry wonders if it is a nightmare.
He knows the signs, having seen Ashton in the bouts of more than one. He
pulls Louis into his arms, holding him close, listening as Louis’ breathing
begins to regulate, his heart rate slowing down, as if his brain senses
Harry’s presence, and that he is safe once more. Eventually Louis sighs like
a kitten, wiggling his ass a little to get as close to Harry as possible. Harry
can feel the rise and fall of Louis’ chest, and Harry breathes him in, falling
asleep in the next moment with his boy finally in his arms.
_____________
Louis feels his mind waking up, his limbs still heavy. The first thing he
notices is warmth. Warmth pressed against his back, receding every few
seconds with each breath Harry exhales, the air tickling his neck. Louis
sighs, waking up content for the first time since the morning after prom. He
wiggles his toes then moves his arms a bit, feeling his tight muscles flex,
screaming in protest from the day he had yesterday. He still feels tired, but
sated. Well rested. It’s the best he has slept in a very long time. He thinks he
had the beginnings of a nightmare at some point, his mind taking him back
to that moment in the forest when they tried to escape.
His eyes pop open quickly when he remembers the rest of the dream. It was
very similar to the dream he had the day he took a nap after church.
Ashton’s face morphed into Harry’s, right there, under the light of the moon
while they were trying to escape. Again, Dr. Thompson and Issac showed
up, but Louis didn’t even hesitate when he chose Harry. He just took
Harry’s hand and whispered ‘save me’. Harry smiled at him, so bright it
hurt Louis’ eyes, but he never looked away. Harry wrapped his arms around
him, kissed him on the forehead whispering ‘God himself couldn’t stop
me’, and suddenly they were no longer in those woods. They were on the
creek bank, the moon filtering through the trees, streams of pale light
painting Harry’s body in a silver hue. Louis doesn’t remember much of the
dream after that. Just Harry and the overwhelming feeling of happiness.
Louis listens to Harry sleep, watching his long fingers twitch where they are
resting on Louis’ stomach, as if he is playing a song while he rests. Louis
wonders what Harry is dreaming about. Is it a good dream? Does Harry still
have issues sleeping? Does he still struggle with sleep paralysis? Louis
realizes he doesn’t know the answer to any of those questions because he
spent so much time trying to push Harry away, he hasn’t even bothered to
find out. Louis makes a promise to himself that he will ask him. That he
will catch up on Harry’s life today and tomorrow and for however long it
takes because he wants to know. He cares. He missed him, and this is a two-
way relationship. If Harry wants a relationship that is, after everything
Louis has put him through.
Louis realizes then, with perfect clarity, that this is the most at peace his
head has been in a very long time. Sure, he has questions floating around in
it, but they are all questions that can be answered. They can be answered by
Harry, unlike the ones he has been plagued with for the better part of six
months. Those were the type that seemed to have no answer at all, or could
only be provided by a divine being. God never answered them though, no
matter how much he prayed, because God is not real. Louis feels as though
Harry somehow reset him yesterday.
He found the button in Louis’ head that collected the scattered pieces of
Louis’ psyche and transported it back in time, to the night of prom, when it
was still intact. To the night Louis realized that he doesn’t believe in God
anymore. Something Harry said yesterday, while they were arguing in that
creepy old church, made him remember that night. Something about Louis’
tower of faith being a cage, and Louis heard an audible click in his head.
The reset. Louis hasn’t forgotten his time in camp, but now he looks at it as
a way to solidify his belief that there is no God. He went through all of that
for nothing. Harry’s right. It’s not fair, but it is what it is. All he can do is
keep breathing.
“Wanna tell me what you’re thinking about, love? You don’t have to, but
I’d love to know what’s going on in that brain of yours,” comes Harry’s
sleep heavy voice, sending shivers down Louis’ spine. Louis was so lost in
his thoughts that he didn’t notice Harry’s fingers had stopped twitching and
his breathing became deeper, signifying that he had awoken. Louis turns
around in Harry’s arms, ignoring the pain in his muscles as they protest the
sudden movement. Harry leans down, tentatively kissing Louis’ forehead,
as if he isn’t sure how Louis will react. Louis, for his part, releases a small
sigh, contentment seeping through his body, threatening to drown the whole
world. Louis traces a random pattern on the younger man’s chest as he
looks up at him through his eyelashes.
Harry looks sleep soft and lovely, his longish curls mussed, one side of his
mouth quirked up into a small smile. Louis ignores Adam’s voice in his
head when he tells him it is wrong to wake up next to man. He will ignore it
until the damn thing is gone because Adam is wrong. This is the absolute
best way to wake up. God himself could tell him to get away from Harry,
and Louis would just flip that bastard off at this point. God doesn’t deserve
his praise, Harry does. Harry deserves everything lovely in the world. So
Louis continues to just stare at him, almost afraid to believe that this
moment is real. That there are no more secrets between them, and Louis
finally feels like he can fucking breathe. As if he is no longer under the
water that was supposed to be cleansing his soul. No. He is out in the air,
blinking at the sun as it finally shines down on him. He is breathing, the
weight of sin no longer resting on his shoulders, feeling as though it is
crushing him.
“Take me to get a tattoo,” Louis suddenly blurts out. Harry looks shocked,
and Louis isn’t surprised. He wasn’t even planning to bring it up, but he
finds he doesn’t regret asking. He has been thinking about it since the game
yesterday. He wants a tattoo as a way to signify the beginning of a new
chapter for him. He has even thought about what he wants to get, but had
forgotten to bring it up among everything else, remembering just a moment
ago. Harry opens his mouth to respond, but Louis cuts him off with a finger
pressed to his his puffy lips. “I’m sure, Harry. I even know what I want. I
swear this isn’t just a split second decision that I’ll regret when I decide I
believe in God again. I won’t regret it, and I don’t think I’ll ever believe in
God again.”
“You don’t believe in God anymore? Louis, that was never my intention. I
didn’t set out to make you an atheist. I…” Louis starts shaking his head
furiously, moving to kiss Harry, so that he can’t even begin to finish his
sentence. His mouth is stale and probably tastes awful, but Harry moans as
if it is the most delicious chocolate he has ever eaten. Louis keeps it chaste,
not wanting to get distracted. When he pulls away, he looks up into Harry’s
eyes, wanting to make sure Harry believes him when he says this. Harry’s
hand has begun to fiddle with the hem of Louis’ shirt. Well it’s Harry’s
shirt, but Louis doesn’t plan on giving it back.
“I know that wasn’t your intention, Harry. I know that now. You were just
giving me facts and letting me make up my own mind. That’s the difference
between you and them. You never made me feel bad for believing anything.
You just told me how you saw it, and made me think, really think about it.
There was never a right and wrong answer with you. They told me how to
believe and what to believe and basically just said that I had to believe it,
but never even tried to tell me why. They used fear and my family as a way
to control me. You never did that, and yet, they tried to say you were the
evil one,” Louis laughs humorlessly, getting angry at himself for letting
them make him believe that way. Louis looks down, playing with Harry’s
necklace, as he thinks. He looks up to find Harry staring at him, his eyes
wide and wet.
“They want me to change in order to love me. That’s not unconditional.

That’s not love. You. Harry, you love me regardless. You love my cracks,
my flaws, and you would have loved me even if I told you I still believed in
God. That’s the thing, Harry. Your love for me is unconditional. Even when
I was an asshole to you and yelling at you in the middle of a goddamned
church, you still fucking loved me. You still fought for me. Love isn’t fear. I
shouldn’t have to love someone simply because I am afraid of what they
will do to me if I don’t. That’s basically what they told me about God. That
I should love him or I would go to Hell, and if I loved you I would go to
Hell. You taught me, Harry, that I don’t need God to be a good person. I can
be a good person without him, and that’s all I want. I want to be a good role
model for my sisters, and a part of that is loving them for who they are as
well.” Harry opens his mouth to respond, but Louis keeps talking, needing
to say what has been on his mind.
“What’s so wrong about loving someone? I love you, Harry, and there isn’t
a damn thing wrong with that. I refuse to give my life to a God that thinks
otherwise. A hateful being that would damn me to eternal torture simply for
loving someone. I meant what I said last night. I don’t want to go to heaven
if it’s real. I don’t want to go to a place where I can’t be myself and love
you. It’s not worth it. You are worth everything to me. I see that now, and I
am so sorry I spent the last few months pushing you away. I’m so sorry,
Harry. You were right. I saw the artificial light, and I let it blind me. I don’t
want to be in the cage of my faith anymore. I want to be free, Harry. I want
to be free with you,” Louis says, not even realizing he started crying again
until Harry’s big thumb swipes under his eyes.
“That’s why I wanna get a tattoo. Two actually. I want a paper airplane
because it symbolizes freedom, letting the wind take me where it wants me
to go. Not being tied down to faith or God. A paper airplane starts as just a
normal piece of blank white paper, nothing extraordinary, then you just fold
it a few times and suddenly, it can fly, but it has to be thrown away in order
to do so,” Louis tells him, pushing Harry’s shoulders so that he is lying on
his back. Louis quickly strattles his hips, smiling down at him because he
looks so fucking beautiful in the morning, and Louis missed it so much.
Harry closes his eyes and bites his lip on a moan when Louis’ now
hardening dick aligns with Harry’s morning wood.
“I like it. What's the other one?” Harry asks, laughing and looking up at
Louis, almost as if he can’t believe Louis is real. Louis pinches Harry’s
lower right nipple to remind him that it is real. This moment is real. They
are real. Louis now knows the difference between what is real and what is
made up, fiction, a figment of some dead person’s overactive imagination.
Harry giggles, batting Louis’ hand away as he reaches up to tickle Louis’
ribs, making Louis shriek with laughter, writhing on top of Harry. He moans
when he feels Harry’s hard length rub against his own, wanting to buck
against it. Instead, he answers Harry’s question.
“The other one? Well, promise me you won’t judge me?” Louis asks, biting
his lip and stopping the movement of his hips, which is the real fucking
miracle here. Harry gives him a look that clearly says ‘you have to be
kidding me right now’ making Louis giggle again. He hasn’t laughed this
much in months. It’s nice. It’s refreshing. He missed laughing. He missed
this. “Well. I want the word ‘Oops’ in your hand writing. When were
talking about us meeting under the bleachers last night, I realized how
pivotal that moment was for me. That was the moment I decided to throw
everything I believed out the window and go with how I felt. What I
actually wanted and not what someone else scared me into believing.”
“Louis, you want to get something I said to you, in my hand writing

tattooed into your skin? Are you kidding? What if you wake up tomorrow
and decide that the camp was right all along? I just don’t want you to regret
anything,” Harry says, his dark brows drawn together in a frown, but Louis
is already shaking his head. A part of him knew that Harry would say that.
The poor boy is probably having a hard time believing Louis’ change of
heart. That’s the thing though. Louis doesn’t think he ever really turned
away from Harry. He has always cared about Harry even went he pretended
he hated him. The camp could never remove his love for Harry, so it wasn’t
difficult to kind of reset his brain.
“I won’t. I know I won’t. You got the heart on your skin after I drew it there
first. Don’t try to tell me I’m wrong. You’re not a great liar, Harry, and I can
read you like a fucking book. You got this heart tattoo because of me. Did
you regret it?” Louis asks tracing the tattoo in question with a light finger,
watching the chillbumps erupt on Harry’s creamy skin. Harry watches him
with clear green eyes for a moment, probably thinking about the question.
Louis is sure that Harry may have had just a small moment of regretting it
when he had thought Louis left him. It must have been difficult to have that
constant reminder on his skin.
“No. Never. Not even when… not even at my lowest, I didn’t regret it,”
Harry starts, shaking his head, the friction from his curls on the pillow
below him making a zipping sound in the air around them. Louis smiles
when Harry squeezes his hips, his voice deep as he continues. “You are a
part of who I am, Louis. You always will be, no matter if you left me by
choice or not. I was nothing but a broken person with a horrible past when
we met. You saw that, and taught me that just because I was broken, it
didn’t make me any less beautiful. I could have a million tattoos that are
about you, and would never regret a single fucking one even if you called
me the scum of the earth, which you did.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, Harry. I don’t think you’re scum or even Satan.
I wanted to. It would have made things easier, but in the end, the easiest
thing in the world was just letting it all go. Letting what they told me go.
Remembering everything we talked about before and after. Knowing the
facts and coming to my own conclusions without their influence. I’m so
sorry, though. You didn’t deserve me screaming at you. You didn’t deserve
me calling you those names and saying those horrible things,” Louis tells
him, eyes stinging with more tears. He knows he has already apologized,
but he doesn’t care. He will apologize every single day for the rest of his
life because Harry has been through far too much to deserve that treatment.
Harry is precious. He is beautiful. He is everything.
“Shh, baby. You don’t have to apologize for that anymore. You already did,
and I understand saying things in the heat of the moment that you don’t
really mean because you want to push the other person away. You were
scared and confused. I forgive you, love. I really do,” Harry says, sitting up,
Louis watching as his abs crunch with the motion. Louis’ body sways a bit
when Harry wraps his arms around him, kissing him gently.
“So… will you take your boyfriend to get his first tattoo?” Louis asks
watching Harry’s eyes widen at Louis’ choice of descriptor. Louis thought
about just asking Harry if he wanted to be his boyfriend, but that just
seemed kind of high school. Not after everything they have been through.
He just wants it to be known. He wants to be Harry’s boyfriend. He wants
Harry to be his first official boyfriend. He knows Harry wants this now. He
knows Harry won’t run away because he doesn’t trust him, not after
everything.
“I’m sure Bowen will be available to take a walk-in for a couple of tattoos
on a pair of boyfriends,” Harry says with a smile, both dimples carving into
his cheeks to frame it. Louis kisses him because he can, but quickly pulls
back when he realizes what Harry just said. Harry is going to get a tattoo as
well? More than one. A small and extremely possessive part of Louis hopes
that it will be one that compliments one of the tattoos he chose. Perhaps
‘Hi’ to match his ‘Oops’. Louis is dying to know what his choices are, but
judging by Harry’s shit eating grin, he isn’t going to tell him.
“You’re not going to tell me what you plan to get, are you?” Louis pouts,
tightening his legs around Harry’s waist, laughing loudly when Harry flips
them, settling between Louis legs with ease. Louis sighs because this is
where Harry belongs. He hates himself for ever allowing them to convince
him otherwise. Harry read his journal. He knows Louis’ innermost thoughts
at the time. Hopefully he understands how much Louis struggled, how
much he fought. They both jump when there is a banging noise on Harry’s
door.
“I’m glad y’all made up and everything, but I would like to eat my coco
puffs without barfing all over the kitchen with the amount of fondness
coming out of this room. Anne and Robin agree, don’t ya?” Asthon pauses,
seeming to listen for Anne and Robin’s response, but Louis doesn’t hear
anything. “They agree, they are just too nice to say so. Why don’t y’all
come out and join us among the living before Luke really does barf at the
next fucking giggle. We are far too hungover for this shit.” Louis and Harry
burst out laughing when they hear Ashton’s footsteps receding back down
the hallway, muttering to himself something about ‘suck his cock already’.
Harry kisses Louis’ nose then gets out from between Louis’ legs, tossing
Louis some sweatpants and a pair of underwear.
They get dressed quickly, and Harry looks at Louis with concern when he
reaches for the door handle that will open their relationship to more people.
They will no longer be in their bubble. The world exists outside of them,
and it’s strange. Louis knows that they haven’t been the only two people on
the planet for the past twelve hours, but it certainly felt that way. They were
just so lost in each other, they forgot that the world was moving around
them. Louis takes a deep breath then nods his head once, a silent signal to
let Harry know he is ready. Harry takes his hand, kissing each finger
individually before he opens the door.
They walk slowly down the hallway, Louis taking time now to look at the
pictures hanging on the wall. He notices several of them are of him and
Harry, the one from prom standing out among them. He is surprised Harry
allowed her to hang them, representing such painful memories, but maybe
he didn’t necessarily look back on that night as unpleasant, even when he
thought Louis had left him. Perhaps he really didn’t regret telling Louis
what had happened to him. Louis doesn't have time to ponder it because
they are walking into the kitchen before he knows it. “Louis! It’s great to
see you!” Anne greets him a little too cheerfully before Robin coughs. Her
eyes widen, realizing her mistake, a pretty pink blush crawling up her
cheeks. She is sat beside Robin at the table. Next to her is Luke then
Ashton, two open seats available. “Sit down. We were just having breakfast
and talking about our plans for the day.”
Harry nods to a seat, and Louis takes it, feeling suddenly awkward and
nervous despite the happy smiles all around him. Harry doesn’t sit down
though, instead, going to the cupboard to grab two bowls, two spoons, and
cereal. Harry knows how much Louis loves cereal, and Louis allows
himself a small smile before the tension in his gut is back with a vengeance.
He doesn’t know what to say to these people. ‘I’m sorry your son almost
killed himself again because of me. I feel an enormous amount of guilt over
it, yet I continued to push him away because I am a fucking idiot who
allowed my belief in a fake god to dictate my actions’ just didn’t sound
right to him, even though it’s true.
“Lou, are you going to watch Harry play tonight?” Ashton asks, and what?
Play tonight? Harry is playing tonight? Playing what? Why hadn’t Harry
told him? He hears a loud clank followed by a muttered ‘shit’ then looks up
to find Harry wiping up some spilled milk with a paper towel, his cheeks
red. It is entirely too adorable, and Louis can’t stop himself from grinning,
allowing his gaze to find Ashton’s.
“Ash, do tell me more,” Louis says with a wicked grin, glancing up to find
Harry walking towards them with two bowls in his hand. He sits the one
that has the most milk down in front of Louis, then takes a seat next to him,
eating a bite of his own which barely has any milk in it. Louis thought that
preference was strange at first, but then Harry explained to him the
reasoning behind it. He doesn’t like milk that much, and when they barely
had any food, his mom used to get really mad at him for wasting milk
because he would put too much milk in his cereal and have some left over.
She had made him drink it, and he hated it therefore he perfected the perfect
milk to cereal ratio. He hardly ever had any milk left in the bowl, and Louis
loved that little quirk about him. He even did it on the rare occasion he
would eat breakfast there, and the even more occasional mornings they
would have it together. Louis pointed out that Harry didn’t have to do that
with his mom not there, but Harry just shrugged and said he liked to do it
that way now.
“Umm--” Ashton glances between Harry and Louis, seemingly unsure of

what to tell Louis. It has to be a weird spot for Ashton to be in. Louis would
guess that he and Harry are very close now, given that they live together
and have a lot in common, but Louis and Ashton survived something life
changing by each other’s side. There is a bond between them that most
would never understand. That bond wins out because Ashton bites his lip
and continues, “Once a month, Harry, Niall, and Liam all go down to an
open mic night together. Harry usually plays a song or two, sometimes Niall
will as well. Me and Luke can’t go ‘cause we aren’t 18 yet, but it seems like
they have a good time.”
“You didn’t tell me, Harold. I’m hurt,” Louis says, dramatically grabbing
his chest as he turns towards Harry, whose face is now resembling a shiny
red apple, the blush spreading all the way down to his chest. Louis wants to
bite it, but he suddenly hears Adam’s voice in his head, saying that Harry is
Louis’ forbidden fruit. Louis ignores it, but it crushed any desire Louis had
to bite Harry’s red cheeks. He knows the programming they put into place
may not ever go away completely, but that is why he wants to go to therapy.
He needs to figure out how to deal with it, so that he doesn’t fall back into
his own self-hatred. He will probably never wake up one day and be okay,
but he can be better. Louis takes a deep breath, trying to steady his thoughts.
“Sorry. I just didn’t think of it with everything going on. I’d love it if you
came tonight, though. I mean… I’m not that great or anything, but it’s
usually pretty fun,” Harry replies, taking a bite of his cereal. Louis almost
makes a joke about the sexual innuendo, but doesn’t. The voice in his head
stops him. He hates that voice, and he is going to hang on to that hate. He
will no longer let it dictate him. Hopefully, it will fade with time. Harry’s
did while he was at camp, however, he doesn’t think it ever truly left him.
His love for Harry never went away either, which is probably the only
reason why he is still alive. Louis was heading down a dark path of self
hatred and destruction. He doesn't know if he would have survived it. It was
Harry that saved him from himself, not God.
“I’d love to come. What are you going to sing?” Louis asks, looking over at
Harry as he eats another bite of cereal, waiting for Harry to swallow before
he answers. Louis is hyper aware that the others around the table are
watching their interaction. It makes sense, though. They have no clue what
is going on and what shifted, seemingly out of nowhere. As far as they
know, yesterday, Louis would barely speak to Harry. They don’t know what
happened in that church that put everything in perspective for Louis, that
cleared away all of the fog in his head, allowing him to finally see. Harry
turned his world upright again in that church, and changed his perspective
so that he could see that clearly.
“Not gonna tell you.” Harry smiles, and Louis throws a cheerio at him,
hitting him on the nose. Harry yips before he retaliates, using his spoon to
launch a piece at Louis. The older man laughs, dodging it easily. It whizzes
by his face, hitting Ashton on the jaw, falling down to his shoulder. Ashton
makes a noise of outrage, picking up the crust of Luke’s toast and throws it
at Harry. Before they know it, all four boys are throwing food at each other
while Robin laughs, attempting to dodge stray items, and Anne yells for
them to stop. It’s fun. It’s refreshing, and it is exactly what Louis needs.
Chapter End Notes
Incase anyone was wondering, the poem is from my own collection,
meaning I wrote it. If it was shit, please don't tell me. My poetry if
very personal to me, so I don't think my heart could handle it lol.
I can't believe this fic is almost complete *cries in Larry*

We
Chapter Summary
Louis goes to watch Harry perform, but has a bit of a setback.

Chapter Notes
I may or may not be already crying.... I can't believe it's over. I know
we still have the epilogue, so I will save the sad shit for Sunday. Just....
thank you.

them.
We’re broken and damned
But together we’ll find a way- Volbeat
“If you’re an atheist, then why did you get a cross tattoo?” Liam asks,
examining the black symbol on Harry’s hand, situated between his thumb
and index finger. Harry’s eyes travel down to the mark, and he shrugs,
making the newly tattooed ‘Hi’ shine when the ointment coating it catches
the light. Louis almost choked when Harry had told him he wanted to get
that tattoo match Louis’ ‘Oops’, but knew it would be no use arguing. Harry
had already gotten the heart, which was very much connected to Louis, so
he easily conceded with a fond smile. Louis loves the way they look on him
and wants to trace both of them again with his finger, but he knows he
shouldn’t touch them. Getting a tattoo didn’t hurt as badly as Louis had
anticipated. It just felt like someone was scratching his skin over and over,
but it wasn’t unpleasant. Maybe he sort of likes pain.
“What Harry told me in the shop was far more dramatic,” Louis tells them
with a laugh. Harry blushes but doesn’t say anything. Louis decides not to
tell them the words Harry had whispered to Louis when he asked the very
same question after it was done. I wanted it as a reminder that sometimes
religion is on the hand that is wrapped around your neck, strangling you
until you can’t see. Louis shivers just thinking about the words, turning him
on more than he ever wants to admit. Harry’s voice was just so deep and
dark when he had said them, Louis kind of wanted it tattooed on the inside
of his eyelids.
He looks down at his own arm, smiling at the paper airplane that is now
etched into his skin. He had to get it around the cut he made with the glass,
but Bowen didn’t ask questions. It took all of five minutes to complete. The
‘Oops’ beside it, in Harry’s handwriting, took even less time. He is almost
positive it took longer for Harry to actually write the words, his pink tongue
poked out in concentration, not wanting to mess up something that would
permanently be on Louis' skin. Louis appreciated that and understood the
sentiment since he wrote ‘Hi’ for Harry, but he would have been happy
even if Harry had screwed it up. He is already planning his next one,
addicted to the feeling and the payoff.
“Well they both look great! I think I am going to get my first in a week or
two. I have enough money saved for it, so I’m excited,” Liam informs them,
with a wide smile. They had both texted Liam and Niall after breakfast, in a
group text because that is just far more simple, telling them the gist of what
had happened. Louis had already told Liam a bit about what had occurred in
the church when he saw him during warm ups before the game. Louis
assumed that Harry had told Niall something similar, so mostly they just
wanted to catch them up and let them know that they were still alive.
They spent the rest of the day together, after that. Just the two of them,
going to get tattoos then to lunch. Harry never pushed Louis to hold hands
or anything, and Louis wasn’t sure how he felt about that. On one hand, he
was relieved because he isn’t sure how open he is ready to be yet. Just
yesterday, he had been belittling himself for even finding Harry attractive. It
is hard to get his brain used to being okay with the idea again, even though
he is. On the other hand, he wanted Harry to touch him in public, claim
him, now that they can. Louis even told his Mom about them, texting her
after the game then calling her while they were waiting for their tattoos to
be drawn. Everyone knew, so Louis just isn’t sure exactly what is holding
him back.
Louis can feel his body tense when the bar around them becomes more
crowded, people filtering in and drinking while they wait for the
performances to start. Harry glances at him worriedly, as if sensing his
tension, but makes no move to soothe him. Louis doesn’t know if it would
help at this point. He hasn’t been around this many people in a while, not
squeezed in this close, at least. There were more people at the game, but he
was on the field, therefore it wasn’t quite the same. He wasn’t among them.
What if they are watching him? What if they know he is gay? What if they
go tell Adam or Dr. Thompson? They would be so disappointed in him.
Fuck.
Louis can feel his breaths becoming shallow as he fights his body’s
response to feeling trapped. He feels like he is back in that cell, with the
walls closing in around him, except this time it is the people. All he can
think about is the camp counselor's hands on him as they stripped him of his
clothes to baptize him. His eyes dart around frantically, making sure that no
one from the camp is there. No one to see that Louis has backslid again. He
tries to reason with himself. He tries to tell himself that he doesn’t care
what they would think. That he doesn’t believe in God, because he doesn’t,
but it is just too much.
“Lou, babe, are you okay?” Harry asks, but all Louis hears is the sound of
someone exclaiming ‘Mark! Hey how are you?’. Louis jumps at that name,
looking around frantically to make sure he doesn't see Mark. He finds a
man dressed in an army uniform, but this person is young. It does nothing
to soothe Louis, his mind morphing the youthful face into Mark’s as he
screamed at him for being an abomination. Louis begins to shake his head,
standing from his seat abruptly, making his way towards where he knows
there to be a bathroom, pushing through all of the people, having seen it a
few times as his eyes scanned the room, in search of the people who trapped
him in the first place.
He feels better as soon as he enters the bathroom, the quiet enveloping him
like a comforting safety blanket, the noise of the bar being muffled by the
thick wooden door. Louis makes it to the biggest stall in the bathroom,
resting his back against the wall attempting to take deep breaths through his
nose and steady his shaking limbs. He knows he doesn’t care about what
Mark says, or Adam or anyone for that matter. He loves Harry and there is
nothing wrong with that. He takes more deep breaths, using the cool wall to
ground himself. He is just overwhelmed, that’s all.
He has his eyes closed, but he hears the door open a moment later. He
didn’t bother locking the stall, and opens them just in time to see Harry slip
in, latching it behind him. Louis closes them again, hitting the back of his
head against the cool surface of the wall, trying to put a stop the crazy
thoughts that are running through his head again. Old habits die hard. He
knows these thoughts are not his own, and he is attempting to talk himself
down. Mark isn’t here, and Louis doesn’t care what that bastard thinks.
Hearing his name just triggered him because he had to hide from him for so
long. Everytime he was around, he consciously changed his mannerisms, so
hearing his name made him go back to that, to thinking there is something
wrong with the way he is.
“Deep breaths, love. In through your nose and out through your mouth.
That’s it.” Comes Harry’s voice, deep and soothing accompanied by
something soft placed between Louis’ head and the hard wall. His hand. It’s
Harry’s hand. Louis can feel the cool metal rings against his scalp. The
mixture of Harry’s touch and his words instantly soothe Louis, his limbs
going a bit lax, the questions in his head disappearing altogether, as if
pulled out of his brain by Harry’s hand. Louis concentrates on breathing
like Harry instructed, allowing the combination of Harry’s voice and his
scent to slow his racing heart. If this is so wrong and unholy, then why is
Harry able to make him feel better instantly? “What do you see?”
Louis knows what Harry is doing. It was the same tactics that Louis used to
help Harry through his panic attack that day in the stairwell when Travis
drudged up old memories for Harry. Louis didn’t know what caused it at the
time, but now that he thinks about it, the attack made sense. He’s sure some
of Travis’ words mirrored those of Logan’s, so he probably flashed back to
that night, much like Louis is doing now. He is flashing back to his time in
camp, and how Mark was as a father. Louis takes a deep breath. Right.
Harry asked him a question. He will have to open his eyes to answer, so he
does. He opens them to find Harry is much closer than he thought.
“You’re eyes,” Louis answers right away. It’s the first thing he notices on
Harry, after all. His green eyes outlined in black. They remind Louis of
leaves on a tree during warm nights in the summer, the green defined by the
darkness of the sky behind it, making it appear brighter as the moon
illuminates it. Harry’s hand is poised in the air, as if he wants to touch Louis
but is afraid to. Louis can’t blame him though. Yesterday, Louis would have
been angry if Harry had even tried to touch him, then again, a lot has
changed since yesterday. Mark isn’t here. Adam isn’t here. Dr. Thompson
isn’t here. None of them are here, and if they were, they could judge all
they’d like. They can live their lie. They can think that it’s wrong for a man
to be attracted to another man. Louis isn’t going to anymore, so he needs to
move past this. He can’t be on the verge of a panic attack every time the
name Mark comes up or he is in a somewhat crowded room.
“Okay. What else?”
“Your lips. Your curls. Your hand. Your chest. Your heart. You,” Louis lists
easily, because it’s the truth. Harry is all that he sees in that dirty bathroom
stall. He doesn’t notice the toilet, the tiles, or the flickering light above their
heads. None of it. He just sees Harry. Beautiful Harry. His Harry, who
followed him into this place just to make sure he is okay. Louis feels
somewhat calmer, but his body is still responding. Sometimes, your brain
and your body don’t exactly line up. His heart is still beating wildly, and his
limbs are still shaking as he grips the cool wall behind him. He closes his
eyes again, trying to breathe.
“I’m sorry,” Louis apologizes, the words coming out small and broken. He
isn’t sure what he is apologizing for, but he feels the need to. Maybe it’s for
being a fucked up mess and putting Harry through all of this. Maybe it’s for
ruining the night of Harry’s performance because he couldn't handle the
sound of Mark’s name when he was actively going against his wishes again.
He tries to breathe slowly, like Harry had instructed, but it’s difficult with
the self deprecating thoughts floating through his head, afraid he will never
be able to move past this, not being strong enough to. They are coming out
in short, sharp huffs, tears springing to his eyes all over again. Why can’t it
all just stop? He was doing so good? Why is this happening?
“What do you hear?” Harry continues, ignoring Louis’ apology. He is

surprised he didn’t ask why Louis is apologizing. Louis doesn’t know
though, so he couldn’t have answered if he tried. He feels like he is tied to
the end of a yoyo, his emotions going up and down with each movement,
with no rhyme or reason. One second he thinks he is okay, and he can do
this. The next, he doesn’t know if he can do anything, and he is panicking.
He can feel a single tear roll down his cheek, but he doesn't move to wipe it
away. Harry asked a question. He needs to concentrate. What does he hear?
“The drip of the faucet. The music outside. Your voice,” Louis answers. He
finds Harry’s voice soothing. He always has. He could fall asleep listening
to the cadence of Harry’s speech, and Harry singing is just a whole new
experience. It is everything Louis loves. Louis was so excited to hear him
sing tonight in front of all of the people out there, in front of him, but here
he is, fucking ruining it with his freak out, all because he heard Mark’s
name. Fucking Mark. Louis hates him. He really does, and he wishes he
could stop his body’s response to wanting to please Mark. That asshole
doesn’t deserve any amount of pleasure.
“Good. What do you taste?” Harry asks, and Louis wills himself to
concentrate. He still feels out of control, and he can’t seem to get a grip on
himself. It’s frustrating. He hates it. He hates himself for reacting this way.
He knows, logically, it is going to take way more than a day for things like
this to stop triggering him, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be frustrated by
them. He just wants it to stop. He wants the self doubt and loathing to stop.
He wants Adam’s voice to stay quiet. He doesn't want to think about Mark
and what he did to him and his family. He hates that his first reaction to
hearing his name was to change himself. He hates it.
“Umm… tobacco from the cig I smoked before we walked in,” Louis
responds, smacking his lips together, trying to come up with an answer to
the question. For some reason he thinks of Harry’s taste. It’s been far too
long since Harry has kissed him. He loves Harry’s taste, even though the
camp told him to forget it. That it was the taste of sin. Yes, it tastes sweet,
but sin usually does. It is a camouflage, so you don’t know what you’re
eating until it’s already too late. Like Eve with the apple. They used the
apple a lot, and all Louis could think of for a while was Harry saying that it
probably wasn’t even an apple.
“I am going to skip what you smell because we are in a bathroom stall, and
I don’t think that’s all that calming,” Harry says, and Louis can almost hear
his smile. Louis’s body releases a small giggle, even through all of the
emotions clogging his throat. He is just caught off guard by Harry’s
comment. He focuses on what Harry said instead of allowing his mind to
take him back to aversion therapy, the smell of his own burning flesh hitting
his nostrils. That was almost as bad as the pain. He shakes his head,
dislodging the memory to concentrate on Harry’s voice again. Harry is
speaking. “What do you feel?”
“The cool wall behind me. The blood rushing through my veins. My heart
beating,” Louis answers. It probably wasn’t what Harry was expecting.
Louis chose to say the positives things he feels rather than the negatives like
panicked and scared, or the wet tears running down his cheeks. He doesn't
want to focus on those things. He wants to focus on Harry. He yearns,
suddenly, for Harry’s touch. He wants to feel him. He wants to remember
what’s real instead of the memories currently threatening to consume him,
and it’s hard to do that when he can’t feel him. They have just been dancing
around each other most of the day, both unsure of how the other felt about
showing affection in public. He doesn’t blame Harry at all for that because
of how Louis felt only yesterday. Louis has just been taking cues off
Harry’s body language, so they yes, they have been doing a dance. A
frustrating dance of not touching but loving. He feels like a ghost again, and
maybe that is what is bothering him most.
“Can I touch you?” Harry asks, as if reading Louis’ mind. Louis’ eyes pop
open again to find Harry’s hand in a fist, as if he needed to stop himself
before he got the question out. Louis nods his head before he even gives
himself a chance to say ‘no’. He craves Harry’s touch, but at the same time
he still almost feels ashamed for wanting it. The programming they did to
his brain is fucking with him right now. When Harry places a warm hand on
his arm, rubbing it soothingly, everything immediately feels better, clearer
somehow. Louis can breathe again. Harry is Louis’ calm among the chaos.
His mind feels like he is in the midst of a midnight thunderstorm, one that
you don’t see but shakes your foundation with its booms of thunder and
illuminates your surroundings with lightning every few moments, making
you jump. Harry is the bright moon that comes out after, reminding him that
everything can be peaceful again.
“Baby, it’s okay to freak out. It’s okay to have bad moments. It’s okay to
feel overwhelmed. After everything that happened to you, you aren’t going
to be better in a day. This doesn't make you weak. It doesn’t mean that you
should hate yourself. It doesn’t mean that I hate you or that I'm upset with
you. I still love you, and I am here. I will always be here,” Harry tells him
probably sensing that Louis is beginning to calm down. Next he pulls Louis
to his chest, squeezing him tight. It should break Louis’ body, but it doesn’t.
It feels like it solidifies it somehow. Louis breathes him in, using his scent
as the cement that will bind the broken pieces of his mind back together.
Louis isn’t afraid to touch Harry. He brings his hands up to his chest,
snaking one of them underneath the fabric of his shirt so he can feel his
skin. He wants to be as close to Harry’s heart as possible. With his other
hand, he cards his fingers through Harry’s hair, shifting the scarf that Harry
placed there to hold his curls back. He uses Harry to anchor himself,
listening to his heartbeat as he places his head on Harry’s bare chest,
holding the shirt up. If it seems odd to Harry, he doesn’t say anything. He
just allows him to do it because he probably senses that it’s what Louis
needs right now. Louis feels the tears returning, but for a different reason.
He’s just overwhelmed by everything, but mostly the love he has for this
boy that is holding him like something precious. They just stand there like
that for a few minutes, Harry holding Louis against the wall of a dirty bar
bathroom while Louis cries on his shoulder. No words are said between
them, but none need to be. It’s not really necessary when it feels as though
their souls are breathing as one.
“Thank you, Haz,” Louis says, his voice wavering with emotion. He knows
Harry is right. This is normal. He has gone through something very
traumatic, so of course he isn’t going to be all better after one night with
Harry. It’s going to take a lot more than that, so that is why Louis knows
therapy is crucial for him to heal. He needs it. He is going to have more bad
moments. He is going to have horrible days where he will hate himself and
may fall to his knees in prayer as much as he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t
think he believes in God anymore. After every single conversation with
Harry, it has convinced him that maybe there really is no God. Especially
with everything he has been through.
He just doesn’t see how it would be possible to have a belief in God and a
relationship with Harry. Those two things do not align in his head anymore.
They can’t. He doesn't want them to. Harry never told him he had to choose
between his faith and their relationship, however Louis knows he can’t have
both. He doesn’t want both. He doesn’t want any kind of relationship with a
God that put him through something so horrible. Something that has altered
his brain and life in such a negative way. That kind of God does not deserve
his allegiance, does not deserve his worship. So no, Louis doesn’t think he
will ever find a bridge between the two, mostly because he refuses to build
it. Not after everything that he and Harry have both been through in the
name of religion. It is hard to see a God in all of that. A fair and loving one
at least. Louis doesn’t believe in God anymore though, so it doesn’t matter.
God’s not real.
“You’re welcome, Lou,” Harry says, pulling away from Louis to look down
at him with a small smile playing on his black painted lips. When he
emerged from the bathroom earlier with black rimmed eyes and his full lips
in a matching color, Louis choked on his own spit. He has seen Harry
wearing eyeliner more times then he can actually count, but he saved the
lipstick for special occasions. He remembers Harry telling him once that he
loved to wear makeup but was always far too self conscious to actually go
out with anything other than eyeliner, and even then it took a lot of courage.
Harry had always put off an ‘I don’t care’ sort of vibe, but Louis thinks that
deep down Harry does care. He cares about what the people he loves think.
Louis is so fucking proud of Harry for wearing it out tonight, especially
when he is set to perform.
Harry kisses his nose then holds up his other hand, Louis’ pack of cigarettes
held between his fingers. Harry must have grabbed them from the spot
Louis left them on the table when he followed him. Without being
prompted, he pulls one out and holds it up to Louis lips. Louis takes it,
allowing Harry to light the end for him. He feels even better when the
smoke fills his lungs, exhaling it along with the anxious energy that has
filled every cell of his body. He lifts up his hand, removing the cigarette. He
is surprised when Harry leans down, pressing his lips to Louis’ to shotgun
this puff. It is incredibly sexy when Harry blows out the cigarette smoke a
moment later, the same smoke that had occupied Louis’ lungs just moments
ago.
“Do you want to go home?” Harry asks after Louis takes a few more puffs,
blowing the smoke away from Harry, aware of his asthma. Louis thinks
about the question. He kind of does because he still feels shaky, but at the
same time he really doesn’t want to miss Harry’s performance. He still has
no idea what Harry plans to sing, and his interest had peaked even more
when Harry brought the guitar Louis had gifted him along with them.
Whatever the song was, Harry has apparently been practicing it on the
guitar. Niall has also been learning to play the guitar while Ashton is
learning the drums. They are talking about starting a band, and Louis hopes
they do. They would all have so much fun. They are all so creative.
“No. I wanna see you play,” Louis responds after a few moments, coming
to a decision. He takes one last pull from his cigarette and throws it in the
toilet, flushing it down. He looks back to find Harry with a wide grin, two
large front teeth proudly on display while his dimples carve deeply into his
cheeks, framing his black painted smile. Fuck. He’s beautiful. Whatever
Harry was about to say dies on his lips when the music from outside of the
bathroom suddenly amplifies, a voice shortly following.
“Hello? Umm-- Harry? Louis? Sorry to interrupt, guys, but I just wanted to
give y’all a heads up that Harry is next.” Liam’s voice is hesitant, almost as
though he knows he is breaking a fragile moment. Louis takes a deep
breath, feeling a lot better than he had when they first walked into the
bathroom. Harry calmed him. Harry always does, though. He is the peace in
Louis’ chaotic mind. Anytime Louis is slipping, he just needs to hold on to
Harry. He needs to find the pale moonlight that only Harry can produce, the
light that illuminates his darkness, allowing him to find his way like a
compass. Harry is his anchor. Harry is his home.
“We will be out in just a minute,” Louis responds, his voice still creaking
from his earlier sobs. They hear the door close a moment later, then Louis
wipes his face, drying up any stray tears. He grabs some toilet paper and
blows his nose. He watches as Harry straightens his red plaid shirt, then
fixes his headband that was knocked askew by Louis’ nimble fingers. Louis
uses both hands to smooth down his long sleeved black shirt. Well it’s
Harry’s shirt; he borrowed it from him this morning when he didn’t want to
go home to get anything to wear. It’s slightly big, but completely perfect.
He then runs his fingers through his hair, making it artfully messy once
again.
“Okay… let’s get you out there already. I am excited to hear what you’re
singing.” Louis reaches up, fixing the collar on Harry’s shirt before he
opens the stall door. Harry takes his hand, anchoring him, as they make
their way back out into the crowded bar area. Louis feels as though
everyone is staring at their hands, but he knows they’re not. It is just him
being paranoid, so he pushes the thought to the side, along with all the other
ridiculous bullshit the camp told him, and squeezes Harry’s hand tighter,
keeping his head held high. He smiles when they reach the table, the other
two boys returning it. They sit down just as a girl comes to the microphone,
asking for everyone’s attention.
“Hello everyone!” She begins, her smile bright and voice cheerful. “Thank
y’all for coming out to another open mic night! We have a lot of exciting
acts coming up tonight, and I’m sure they appreciate your support. First one
of the night has become somewhat of a regular, so please welcome your
favorite, and mine, Mr. Harry Styles!” Everyone claps, a few people wolf
whistling, including Niall. Harry smiles and winks at Louis before he grabs
his guitar, making his way towards the stage. Louis never thought he would
see this happen, but Harry is confident as he takes a seat on the stool. His
fingers are steady and sure as he strums a few chords, a stark contrast to the
few he played for Louis a week after Louis gifted him the instrument. Harry
smiles at the crowd then his eyes finds Louis’.
“Good Evening. As she said, I’m Harry Styles. I will be singing a couple of
songs for you tonight, so I hope you enjoy them. I want to dedicate both of
them to my lovely boyfriend who is in the audience this evening. This is his
first time seeing me perform, and to be honest, I’m scared shitless. So, Lou,
these are for you.” Harry gestures towards him, and Louis can feel the blush
creep up his cheeks. Everyone awes, and Louis kind of sees this moment as
a test. Harry is testing the waters to see if Louis wants to be called his
boyfriend in public. Despite his earlier freak out, he finds he doesn’t mind.
He smiles broadly at Harry, waving and shooting him a thumbs up, then
blowing him a kiss for good measure. The answering grin from Harry is
nothing short of swoon-worthy, both dimples popping, giving Louis the
overwhelming desire to lick them.
He watches as Harry looks down at the guitar strings, positioning his long,
thick fingers accordingly, his curiosity of the song choice about three point
six seconds away from getting the best of him. He hasn’t even sang a note
yet, and Louis feels like he is going to drown the room in the pride that is
currently flooding his chest. It feels light and free, and maybe the world
needs a little bit more freedom and light. He realizes then that the camp
didn’t take his pride like he had thought. His pride was never up for sale,
and it wasn’t something they could just take, like an item on a grocery store
shelf. No. His pride is within him and in Harry. Pride isn’t a tangible object
that is non-renewable. It is something that Louis has found again, and
maybe he never lost it.
Hello there
The angel from my nightmare
The shadow in the background of the morgue
The unsuspecting victim
Of darkness in the valley
We can live like Jack and Sally if we want
Where you can always find me
And we'll have Halloween on Christmas
And in the night we'll wish this never ends
We'll wish this never ends
I miss you, I miss you

Louis recognizes the song immediately, and hearing Harry sing it with such
emotion and passion brings a tear to Louis’ eye. Harry looks so beautiful up
on stage, perfect really, and he is singing the words directly to Louis, his
deep, gravelly voice echoing throughout the space as his full, black painted
lips shape around each syllable enticingly. Louis is almost certain this is
what Heaven would sound like, not a high pitched falsetto, like an angel’s
would be, this is better. Harry’s voice could make angels weep because,
unlike theirs, it’s real and raw. Powerful. Sitting up there, with nothing but
his guitar, Harry is meant for the stage.
Where are you?

And I'm so sorry
I cannot sleep I cannot dream tonight
I need somebody and always
This sick strange darkness
Comes creeping on so haunting every time
And as I stared I counted
The Webs from all the spiders
Catching things and eating their insides
Like indecision to call you
And hear your voice of treason
Will you come home and stop the pain tonight
Stop this pain tonight
It is hard for Louis to come to terms with the fact that he has been missing
this. Harry has taken chances and grown and healed while Louis was
turning a blind eye, pretending that Harry didn’t exist and that he didn’t
care for him. That fact alone breaks Louis’ heart because he missed Harry
performing other songs. He missed his first ever performance here, in front
of a crowd. Louis wonders what song he sang. If he was nervous. Did his
voice shake a bit with the words? Did he cry? Louis wasn’t even there to
reassure him or kiss him in congratulations. All because of some stupid
belief that wasn’t even based on fact. How could he? Can he ever forgive
himself? Why would Harry forgive him? He missed this. Louis makes a
promise to himself from that moment on, that he will never miss another
moment like this again.
Don't waste your time on me

You're already the voice inside my head

With the last ‘I miss you’, Harry looks directly at Louis, his eyes shining in
the low light of the bar. It strikes Louis then that Harry had planned to sing
this song before they talked about everything, so it can be inferred that this
is how Harry felt. The words of the song hit Louis somewhere deep and
indescribable, echoing through his entire being like an organ in a church,
reverberating off the walls of his heart and soul. Louis very much identifies
with the line about Harry being the voice inside his head, and he wonders,
for the first time ever, if his voice was also in Harry’s head. Did it fade with
time while Louis was at camp?
Louis claps when the rest of the crowd does, snapping out of his thoughts
with such a force, Louis is somewhat discombobulated by the bar around
him. He was so wrapped up in Harry’s song, his voice, and his own
thoughts, that he had forgotten where he was, his brain going back to the
first time he had heard Harry play, only knowing a few chords. He’s come
so far, and Louis is so incredibly proud of him. He is miles and miles away
from the shy outcast Louis had met last year. The boy who wore bracelets to
cover his scars and had walls around his heart that seemed impenetrable.
No. The man in front of him is confident and happy. Louis loves him so
much, it hurts.
“Thank you, everyone,” Harry starts when the applause begins to die down.
Louis can see the blush on his face from the reaction, and he kind of wants
to melt. Harry is so fucking pure. Louis was so stupid for believing that
Harry was tainted by Satan in any way. Harry clears his throat to continue,
“I am gonna go ahead and start the next song. I just discovered it a few
months ago, but I have been listening to it religiously ever since.” Harry
chuckles, as if he made a joke that Louis doesn’t quite understand. Louis
listens intently though, because he is curious as to what the song could be.
He doesn’t recognize it all when the chords starts.
My lover's got humor

He's the giggle at a funeral
Knows everybody's disapproval
I should've worshiped him sooner
If the Heavens ever did speak

He is the last true mouthpiece
Every Sunday's getting more bleak
A fresh poison each week
Louis kind of recognizes the song, now. He thinks he has heard it at some
point in his life. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the tune sounds
familiar. Maybe he has heard it in a movie or something. He closes his eyes,
allowing the lyrics to wash over him, Harry’s deep voice cleansing his soul.
Louis identifies with them. He feels like he could sing some of them to
Harry. The person who wrote the song, taking words straight out of Louis’
thoughts and putting them to music. He really should have worshiped Harry
sooner.
"We were born sick", you heard them say it

My church offers no absolutes
He tells me 'worship in the bedroom'
The only heaven I'll be sent to
Is when I'm alone with you
I was born sick, but I love it
Command me to be well
Amen, Amen, Amen
Take me to church
I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife
Offer me that deathless death
Good God, let me give you my life
Harry’s eyes are closed while he sings, opening one side of his mouth a bit
wider than the other as he puts passion into each word. The born sick line is
what gets Louis, cutting him to the bone allowing all of the blood in his
body to bathe the room. They did tell him he was born sick, and Harry by
association. Harry does love it, though. He loves who he is now. He isn’t
ashamed of his attraction anymore, not like Louis had been just days ago.
They aren’t sick, though. They never were. Louis knows that now.
Take me to church
If I'm a pagan of the good times

My lover's the sunlight
To keep the Goddess on my side
She demands a sacrifice
To drain the whole sea
Louis starts crying with the sunlight lyric. Harry told him once that he gave
him light. That he created light, so that line hits Louis like a freight train,
sending him off the rails, into oblivion. He has never identified with a song
so much, has never felt touched by one. The way Harry sings it. Fuck.
Louis can’t even put into words how it makes it him feel. It is as though
several emotions in his body are battling for dominance at once. Instead of
a winner emerging, they have all just kind of mixed together, leaving him
with an overwhelming desire to cry. Not in remorse or happiness, but
maybe relief?
Get something shiny

Something meaty for the main course
That's a fine looking high horse
What you got in the stable?
We've a lot of starving faithful
That looks tasty
That looks plenty
This is hungry work
Take me to church
Take me to church
Louis feels like this song has been the soundtrack of his time with Harry.
He could have written the words himself then sang them to Harry. He feels
as though Harry has taken him to Church. He learned far more from Harry
than he had ever learned on Sunday during a church service. Every single
chorus, lyric, and word rings a certain truth to Louis. He is silently crying
now, tears streaming down his face. He doesn’t even bother to wipe them
away as he watches his boyfriend sing his heart out, keeping his eyes closed
and the guitar that Louis gifted him poised across his thick thigh. It is in
that moment that Louis decides the song is right. God is obsolete. He should
worship what is real and pure.
No masters or kings when the ritual begins

There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin
In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene
Only then I am human
Only then I am clean
Amen, Amen, Amen
Take me to church
Take me to church
The crowd is completely silent for a solid twenty-three seconds after Harry
sings the last note, their faces in awe. Harry opens his eyes to look around,
and everyone erupts in applause, Louis’ heart beating to match the rhythm
of their claps. Louis begins slapping his hands together, getting to his feet,
everyone seated following suit. He watches as Harry’s face becomes redder
as he looks down at his pigeon-toed feet with a shy smile. Harry thanks
everyone and waves as he moves off the makeshift stage, towards Louis and
their friends.
As soon as he gets to the table, Louis wraps his arms around him, standing
on his tiptoes to kiss Harry in front of everyone, including any Gods that
may be watching them. Louis almost wants to flip off the skies as a final
‘fuck you’ to anyone or anything that may or may not be up there. It’s
doubtful that there is anything, but just to be sure they know where he
stands, and who he will always stand with. Harry’s lips are soft and warm
against his own, and Louis finally feels at home. Home is in Harry’s arms.
Home isn’t a Heavenly realm where he would never die and get to spend
eternity with his deceased family members. Home is, in fact, Heaven, but
his Heaven is with Harry. No one else, and there is nobody that can change
his mind.
“I’m so proud of you, Harry,” Louis mummers against his lips before he
kisses him one last time, their bodies sliding together as he falls down to the
flats of his feet. Harry smiles, eyes suspiciously shiny as he wipes away
Louis’ tears with the pads of his thumb. They sit back down at the table,
laughing and talking with their friends, holding hands and feeding each
other mozzarella sticks or cheese fries while listening to others take the mic,
none as good as Harry. Louis looks down at the tattoo on his forearm, the
paper airplane clear and proud on his skin. He feels it. He feels free of the
cage of religion.
When Harry’s long leg rubs against his own from under the table, and Harry
smirks because he meant to do it, Louis is suddenly dizzy from the
rerouting of blood to his dick. Louis wants to kiss Harry. He wants to taste
him. Even though they have been touching all night, holding hands and
kissing on occasion, they have kept it chaste. Louis needs Harry to know
what he does to him, and the small kisses they have shared just aren’t
cutting it. Louis then makes an executive decision. He wants Harry, now.
Needs him, so he grabs Harry’s hand and ignores the confused looks on
Niall and Liam’s faces and the surprised squeak from Harry, as he drags
him away. He keeps pulling him until they are in the bathroom again, going
into the last stall. Louis locks it this time.
“Love touching you, Lou,” Harry says, his voice already deep with arousal
as he takes a step closer, pressing Louis’ body against the stall door. Louis
swallows, looking up to find Harry’s green eyes already full of lust. Harry’s
hips are grinding against his to the beat of some kind of music coming from
the bar. He groans, raising up on his tiptoes to bite Harry’s neck, wanting to
mark him again. Harry already has marks all over his body from their prior
escapade in the church, so Louis will just add to it. He never wants to let the
bruises fade again. He remembers how it felt to see them slowly leaving his
skin at camp, being replaced by ones that the counselors left. It made him
feel sick, but never again. He only ever wants to have bruises from Harry
given to him with passion.
“Fuck, me too,” Louis agrees, the words coming out on a moan, as Harry’s
big hands find his hips. Louis feels the pull of arousal behind his navel,
sending sparks of electricity to every nerve ending in his body. He always
wants to be touched by Harry. Even in public where everyone can see them
and judge them. Some may go home and pray for the abominations they
saw holding hands or kissing, but that’s okay. Let them pray. It’s their
breath they are wasting, not his. They can pray to their imaginary friend all
they would like, Louis is going to continue to live his life happily, with
Harry. No one, nor any omnipresent being, will ever stop him. Fuck the
ancient book written by man for ever thinking it could.
“I mean, out there,” Harry mummers, biting Louis’ collarbone, the black of
his lips somehow looking darker against Louis’ tan skin. Louis is close,
already. His impossibly hard dick feels like it is going to explode at any
moment, coming in his jeans like Harry had done the night of the
homingcoming dance. At the time, it happened because Harry was
inexperienced, and it was incredibly sexy to Louis. Now though, it is
because Louis has been deprived of Harry’s body and any form of sexual
relations for far, far too long. Before, he felt like he was a fish drowning in
air, but now he is back in the water, the cool substance surrounding him,
and Louis is breathing it in.
“Anywhere, Harry. Touch me anywhere you want,” Louis says, his voice
high and raspy, hoping that Harry understands the double meaning. He
knows they have been touching all night but nothing was really established
in the bathroom earlier. It has been clear all day that Harry was unsure on
how to interact with him in public, wasn’t sure if there was an invisible line
with Louis that he couldn’t cross. Louis didn’t know either, but now he
does. It is stupid to not want Harry’s touch in public. That would mean he
cares what people think, and he doesn’t. He hopes that he was able to
convince Harry of that tonight. Fuck. He wouldn’t give a damn if Adam or
someone like that walked in on them right now. He isn’t doing anything
wrong, and fuck them for thinking otherwise.
“Wanna go back to my place?” Louis asks, biting his lip with the question.
They need to get somewhere so that Louis can be fucked. He doesn’t want
to do it in a dirty bathroom stall, but he isn’t above it. Louis has the brief
thought of falling to his knees to suck Harry off right then, his body has just
been oozing sex appeal all fucking night. Who could blame him, really? As
if reading Louis’ thoughts, his mouth transforms into a wicked smirk.
Louis’ dick getting even harder, if that’s at all possible, instantly, his brain
dizzy with just how much he wants him. He wants Harry. He wants him in
every way possible. It’s late enough that his sisters are probably in bed. He
has been keeping up with his mom for most of the day. She already said he
was free to bring Harry back to their house. Louis is an adult, and she loves
Harry like a son, afterall. Harry doesn’t answer, he just nods.
Harry kisses Louis once more before he opens the stall door. He tries to take
a few deep breaths, begging his erection to go away. His balls are going to
be so blue until they get home. Bluer than blue. What’s bluer than blue?
Louis has no idea, but he is going to have to think of something because
they already ache with his need for release. Niall and Liam don’t look at all
surprised that they’ve come back looking disheveled, their pupils blown.
They say a hasty goodbye to their friends, both boys looking somewhat
amused as they return the sentiment. Louis and Harry hold hands as the
walk out the door into the somewhat cool October air. It helps calm Louis’
erection down, now probably barely noticeable in his jeans. Halloween is
right around the corner and Louis briefly wonders if Harry may want to do
a couples costume this year.
They are both quiet on the car ride back to Louis’ house, soft music from
the radio playing in the background. Louis will occasionally sing along to
the lyrics he knows from many a day spent with Harry, listening to music as
they studied or made out or whatever. Harry never lets go of his hand,
driving with his other during the entire trip, a steady presence that has
always been there, even when Louis had tried to push him away. They
arrive at Louis’ house in no time, Harry putting the car in park as they both
peer at the light that’s on in the living room.
“She knows we’re coming. I texted her when we got to the car. She’s fine
with you staying the night, if you want,” Louis rambles, sensing Harry’s
nerves. He shouldn’t have assumed Harry would want to stay the night. He
may be sick of him at this point, especially Louis’ need for reassurance. He
still feels somewhat unbalanced, his thoughts sometimes going astray and
heading into darker territory. He tries to keep them focused on Harry,
though. He knows they will have to part ways eventually, he just isn’t ready
for that yet. He is so afraid that, without Harry, his mind will be swallowed
up by the confusion again. He supposes he will cross that bridge when he
gets to it.
Harry cuts him off with a kiss, his big hand coming to cup Louis’ jaw.
Louis melts into it, moaning when Harry’s warm tongue sneaks into his
mouth, sending a spark of pleasure from deep in is gut throughout his entire
system. “Shh, baby. It’s okay. Of course, I want to stay. I missed you. I
don’t ever wanna leave you again,” Harry hushes, pulling back to look
Louis in the eyes as he says it. It’s funny how much everything has
changed. At first, it was Louis building Harry up, helping him heal, but now
it has come full circle. Harry has grown so much, and so has Louis. Just in
different ways, but what is important is that they both have grown together.
With one last peck on the lips, Harry begins to get out of the car, Louis
following suit. Harry grabs Louis’ hand as they walk up the driveway,
Louis taking a few deep breaths and squeezing it for support. Harry doesn’t
give Louis a moment to hesitate as he grabs the handle, slowly opening the
door, the light on the porch their only form of illumination. As soon as they
walk in the living room, hand in hand, his mom’s face lights up. She puts a
finger up to her lips, a silent gesture for them to be quiet, then she points up
stairs.
“Glad you all made it home. How was it?” She asks, keeping her voice
quiet as she sits her book on the coffee table next to her mostly empty glass
of wine. Louis has the sudden desire to drop Harry’s hand in front of her,
having been used to hiding the relationship in the presence of his family for
so long. It is almost second nature at this point, but he suppresses it. He has
already told her that he and Harry had talked. He didn’t go into detail about
the church or what happened after, but he said that he had finally talked to
him about everything.
“It was great. Harry was amazing up there. He was meant for the stage,”
Louis praises, smiling at the younger boy. Harry returns it, his cheeks tinged
pink. Jay smiles at them both, seemingly happy to see Louis more himself.
Louis feels much happier. He doesn’t feel as though there is a heavy weight
resting on his shoulders anymore, threatening to crush him to a bloody pulp.
Which reminds him, “Mom, you know that therapist you were talking to me
about a few weeks ago? Can you give me their number so I can make an
appointment?”
“Of course, love,” Jays responds, clearly trying to hide her pleasure over
that information. “I’ll do that tomorrow. I was just about to go to bed
myself. All of the girls are asleep, so you guys be quiet.” She stands with
her words, stretching and yawning. It is pretty late for her, even on a
Saturday. Louis looks around the house, the one that used to be filled with
Mark’s presence and realizes he never missed him. He just told himself that
he should feel guilty about it, but he never really did. He is glad Mark is
gone. He was like a bad omen, sitting in the house, making the atmosphere
thick and dark. Since he went to prison, there is no longer an evil, dark
cloud hanging over the house, threatening punishment at the slightest
misdeed. It’s refreshing. Louis has the desire to breath it in.
“I’m gonna talk to the girls tomorrow. Try to explain what happened,
without going into too much detail. Do you think they will ever forgive
me?” Louis asks, looking at his mom for some sort of reassurance. He
hopes they will. He was horrible to them, yelling when they tried to come
into his room. He feels that awful sort of remorse, now, for his actions. He
thought he was doing the right thing, but he wasn’t. He hates himself
pushing them away. They didn’t deserve that. He feels Harry’s hand
stroking his back, warm and sure. The thankfulness that he feels for Harry
wells up in him, again. Harry was there for his sisters when he was trying to
push them away. Harry substituted for him, and he will be forever grateful.
He is also happy that they have all grown closer, Harry fitting into his life
seamlessly, no longer hidden or worried about crossing the invisible line
that comes with the closet.
“They love you. You’re their brother. You may have to kiss their asses a bit,
but I think at the end of the day, they will forgive you,” Jay reassures him,
smiling at her own joke. His mom cussing is so new to him, it always
throws him for a loop, but he feels like he is finally getting to see the real
her, without Mark tarnishing her reflection. It’s lovely, really. She is
becoming her own person right before his eyes, and he can’t believe he
allowed himself to think that Mark was good for their family. If God sends
her to Hell for divorcing such a horrible man, then that God was never all-
loving to begin with.
“I think I can do that. Maybe bribe them with candy and cartoons,” Louis
says, walking up to his mom and kissing her on the cheek. She smiles at
him, placing the palm of her hand on his jaw, the scruff there sounding loud
against her skin. She is looking at him as if she is seeing someone for the
first time after a long trip, like she missed him. He missed her, too. He
wraps his arms around her, hugging her tightly, just to show her that he is
real. That she isn’t dreaming because she definitely has that look on her
face. She hugs him back, and she feels warm. He missed her, so he breathes
her in, promising himself to just open up to her next time, before it’s too
late.
“I promise I’ll be here for you more. I’ll help you with the girls. We can do
it. The two of us. Of course, I’m sure Harry and Ashton and everyone else
will continue to help, but you have me now, too. I’m so sorry, and tomorrow
we will talk. Really talk,” Louis promises, kissing her on the forehead when
she starts crying, squeezing him so hard, he has trouble breathing. He wants
to breathe now though, he finally can, so he rubs her back until she releases
her hold a bit. “I love you, mom. Good night.”
“I love you, too, boobear,” she replies, pulling away and wiping her eyes,
sniffling. “I love you too, Harry. Don’t forget that. Good night. Be quiet.
Don’t stay up too late. I’ll see you both in the morning. I’m happy you’re
home, Boo.” Louis doesn’t think she means that she is happy he is
physically home, but he doesn’t get a chance to really think about it because
she is kissing Louis on the cheek then goes to Harry, kissing him as well.
They both wave to her as she makes her way into her bedroom, shutting the
door quietly behind her. Louis feels nervous for some reason, but he grabs
Harry’s hand and leads him upstairs, Harry already familiar with the route
now.
Louis’ room is a mess, his clothes strewn about since he hasn’t really cared
enough to pick up after himself. He has a few of his extra football jerseys
laying on the bed, having just picked one out of the pile to pack for the
game yesterday. His mom washed them all for him last weekend, and Louis
was forever grateful for that. Right now, however, he doesn’t want them on
his bed, having other things planned for that area, so he pushes them onto
the floor before turning back to a very nervous looking Harry who is
currently shutting the door.
“We don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want. Like if it makes you
uncomfortable since your family is here. We can just sleep. I would be
perfectly content just being the little spoon,” Harry starts as soon as the
door to Louis’ room clicks shut. Louis understands why Harry is saying it.
Harry doesn’t want him to feel pressured, especially since it was such a
huge deal the first time they had ever done anything in his room. Suddenly,
images from their time in the bathroom at the bar filter through his mind, all
the blood in his body rushing to his dick when he remembers how Harry’s
body felt grinding against his own.
“Shut up, Harry,” Louis says with a smile, kissing him to cut him off mid
ramble. He has been doing that since their first kiss, and it really is the best
way to shut Harry up when he starts getting nervous. Harry responds right
away, opening his mouth so that Louis can guide his tongue in. Louis
wastes no time reaching for the button on Harry’s tight jeans, undoing it
quickly, without even looking down. He doesn’t need to. It is muscle
memory at this point. He feels like he has been deprived of Harry’s body for
far too long. It isn’t fair, and he really needs to make up for lost time. He
whimpers when Harry pulls away.
Louis looks up at him, the black lipstick not even faded after everything
that has happened tonight. His eyeliner is still mostly intact too, smudging a
little to make Harry look even more grungy, and Louis whimpers again.
Harry pulls the scarf off his head, allowing his dark curls to fall free,
shaking them out a bit, swiping his fingers through them so they are messy
and perfect. Louis wants to touch him, but Harry seems to be thinking about
something. Louis can’t stop his gaze from flickering down, finding Harry’s
hard length pressed against his briefs, the zipper of Harry’s jeans framing it
like the piece of art it is.
“Mommy!” Louis and Harry’s heads both snap up at the sound of a little
girl calling out. Louis believes it is Daisy’s voice, and his heart stops at the
tone. She sounds scared, her voice in the hallway, right outside of Louis’
door. He locks eyes with Harry before coming to a decision. “I’ll go to her.
Mom is probably asleep. I’ll calm her down, tuck her in,” Louis says,
swallowing the sudden bit of anxiety that has crawled its way up his throat,
making its presence known. It does make his erection go away quickly.
Who knew anxiety could be a cure for impromptu boners?
“Okay. I think that’s a great idea. You’ll be fine. Remember they love you,”
Harry tells him, nodding his head as he speaks, then kisses Louis on the
forehead. Louis nods, trying to believe Harry’s words. It’s just difficult
since he knows they are still pretty mad at him. That day in the park hardly
makes up for months of ignoring them. Even after, Louis still didn’t spend a
lot of time with them. He still shut himself away from them, despite Harry’s
words before they began playing. If he doesn’t do this now though, Jay will
be up here soon. She has been through enough, so Louis wants to do this for
her, plus he has to confront his youngest sisters sometime.
“Don’t worry, though. I haven’t forgotten about this. Get ready for me. I’ll
be back,” Louis says, kissing Harry, palming his now softening dick
through the fabric of his boxer briefs. He pulls away right as Harry moans,
smirking then turning to quietly open the door, just enough for him to slip
out. Just as he expected, Daisy is in the hallway, clutching her unicorn toy
and rubbing her eyes, looking upset. She stops as soon as she sees Louis,
allowing her hand to slowly drop to her side, her small fingers pinching and
twisting the horn of the toy nervously. Louis smiles down at her, trying to
offer her some sort of reassurance.
“Hey Dais. Did you have a bad dream?” He asks, bending his knees and
dropping down so that he is at eye level with his little sister. Her eyes are
wide and shiny, as if she had been crying. She nods, but doesn’t say
anything else, as if she is afraid she is seeing a ghost. Louis basically has
been. He hasn’t exactly existed in the same house as the others. He just
floated through the hallways, detached. Louis smiles at her again and
continues, “That’s okay. I have bad dreams all the time. You wanna go back
in your room?
“I’m scared,” she admits, her voice small and unsure as her hand comes up
to rub her eyes once more. Louis wants to sigh in relief because she is
actually talking to him. He didn’t know if she ever would again. He reminds
himself that she did in the park, even though that feels like a lifetime ago.
Any progress he made that day was lost when he was swallowed by the
confusion the next day. He hated that is how he handled it, but there is
nothing he can do about it now. It is what it is. He wouldn’t have blamed
her if she hadn’t wanted to speak to him at this point. He completely fucked
up as a big brother. He knows he is going to have just as hard of a time
convincing Fizzy and Lottie. They are at least older and are able to grasp
the difficulties of Louis’ circumstances.
“That’s okay, love. I get scared, too,” Louis says, standing and picking her
up. She instinctively wraps her legs around his waist, laying her head on his
shoulder. Louis soaks it in, having missed her so much. He hates himself for
pushing them away. He opens the door to her and Phoebe's shared room
quietly, stepping in. He sees movement which tells him that Phoebe is
awake as well, probably in tune with her twin’s emotions. It was always
creepy to Louis how they were able to do that.
“You do?” Daisy asks when Louis lays her down on her bed. Louis nods as
he pulls the covers up, tucking the small child in. He walks across the room,
doing the same to Phoebe who is looking up at him with wide eyes, the pale
moonlight coming through the window illuminating her delicate features.
She also looks interested in the subject matter, and thankfully allows Louis
to pull the covers around her as well.
“Mmmhmm,” Louis assures, sitting down at the edge of Daisy’s bed.

“When I get scared though, I just look for the moon. Even if you can’t see
it, it’s there, always in the sky. The moon will keep you safe.” Louis points
to the bright round globe peeking through the bedroom curtains, thinking of
Harry as he says it. They seem to relax after that, asking him to read them a
short bedtime story. He does, gladly, sitting down and quietly reading from
the book until they are beginning to nod off. He quietly gets up, trying not
to jostle the bed too much.
“Good night, Lou. I love you,” Daisy and Phoebe say simultaneously, their
voices tired. They look like tiny angels in their beds, Daisy still clutching
her unicorn while Phoebe doesn't have any toys. They’ve grown up so
much, and Louis has missed it, too wrapped up in his own head to see the
life in front of his face. A warmth blooms in his chest for them because
maybe, just maybe, they will forgive him after all of this.
“I love you, too, and I’m so sorry,” Louis whispers the last part, bending
down to kiss each of their foreheads, both girls now sound asleep. He
quietly exits the room, a small smile playing on his lips, then he remembers
Harry is probably naked and alone in his room. Louis’ dick automatically
perks up at that thought, his legs taking him in that direction. He couldn't
stop them, even if he wanted to at this point. His body wants Harry. His
heart wants Harry; it always has. When he opens the door, he resembles a
fish out of water, choking on air.
Harry is laying in the middle of Louis’ bed with two fingers buried deep,
while the other hand is stroking his impossibly hard dick. His black lined
eyes snap to Louis’, dark and full of arousal, his teeth looking whiter than
normal as they bite into his black bottom lip. Then Louis realizes what he is
wearing, and his heart stops beating altogether. Stretched across Harry’s
broad chest is Louis’ college football jersey, pulled tight on his wide
shoulders, the green number ‘28’ gleaming in the low light of the moon that
is filtering in through the curtains. Louis feels dizzy, all of the blood in his
system rushing full steam to his dick, making it hard instantly. Louis is
frozen on the spot, his eyes just soaking in the glorious scene in front of
him.
“Please, Lou. Need you,” Harry whimpers, and Louis' legs begin to move in
the direction of the bed automatically, his fingers locking the door before
they begin pulling the shirt off his back. By the time he gets to Harry’s
writhing form, he is naked as well. He watches for a moment, Harry’s black
nail polish disappearing in and out, in and out, his rings tugging at his hole
with each thrust of his hand. Louis looks down at the floor, finding the bible
case where he kept all of his stuff open, and Louis smiles. He had forgotten
about it, or moreso, forced himself to pretend it wasn’t there.
“Getting yourself good an open for me, but I don’t think it’s enough, love.
You want my help?” Louis asks, moving so he is between Harry’s legs.
Harry bites his lip harder, nodding quickly, his curls making an audible
sound as they scrape against the pillow beneath his head. Louis’ dick
twitches at that. He looks around, finding the bottle of lube beside Harry’s
leg. He squirts some on to his fingers, rubbing them together a bit to create
friction and hopefully heating the substance up. His mind flashes back to
prom, the last time he was inside of Harry, the first time they did it bare. It
was everything Louis had ever wanted.
“Lou. Fuck. Please,” Harry pants, removing his hand from his dick and
clenching the air, as if trying to stave off an orgasm. Louis was about to
smack his hand away anyways, knowing from the twitch in Harry’s thighs
and the way his body was tensing that he is getting close. He already looks
wrecked, but Louis wants Harry to fall apart while he is on his dick. He
wants to feel Harry clench around him when he comes. He loves it. He
missed it. Those moments are everything to Louis, and he will never
deprive himself again.
“Don’t.” Louis demands when Harry goes to remove his own fingers. Harry
whimpers again, but keeps them situated, fisting the sheets beside his hips
with his other hand. Louis carefully reaches between Harry’s legs, tracing
Harry’s rim where his fingers are stretching it open. Harry bucks his hips,
crying out. Louis’ heart jumps because it is incredibly sexy, but he doesn't
want to wake the whole house up.
“Shh, love. You’ve gotta be quiet,” Louis whispers, carefully pushing a

finger in alongside Harry’s. It’s tight, but it is also hot and perfect. Harry
bucks his hips again, bringing his hand up to his mouth and biting down, his
new tattoos visible in the moonlight. He gives Harry a moment to adjust. He
squirms when Louis reaches up to lightly trace the thick vein running up
Harry’s shaft, starting at his heavy balls. Louis can’t stop the moan that
escapes from deep within his chest when Harry’s hole tightens around their
fingers.
“Louis. Fuck. Please. Move. Please,” Harry rambles, removing his hand just
long enough to say the words. He looks at Louis, his pupils so blown, Louis
can barely make out the small bit of green that rims them. Harry begins to
move his own fingers then, forcing Louis’ to move with him. Louis watches
as they both slowly move inside him, his own finger disappearing along
with Harry’s much larger ones. It may actually be one of the hottest things
Louis has ever seen, his eyes traveling up the length of Harry’s body, the
shiny material of the ‘28’ glimmering in the lowlight of the room, with each
harsh breath Harry takes in through his nose.
“Jesus fuck Harry, you look so sexy like this. Wearing my fucking jersey to
show me exactly who you belong to. Fuck,” Louis mummers, his own
words causing precome to blurt from the head of his dick. He doesn’t know
what he was expecting when he walked back into the room, but it certainly
wasn’t this. He isn’t complaining, though. He will never complain about
Harry wearing nothing but his black lipstick, black eyeliner, and Louis’
jersey, while knuckle deep in his own ass. Louis did tell him to get ready,
but he just wasn't expecting Harry to take it so literally.
“‘M yours, Lou. Always have been. Always will be,” Harry responds, eyes
finding Louis’ with his words as their hands move in tandem with one
another, fucking Harry open. Louis blinks away tears because he can feel
the words deep inside his heart. He never lost Harry. Somehow, after all he
did to push the younger man away, he never lost him. He doesn’t deserve
him, but Harry, for reasons completely unknown to Louis, chose him. The
same boy that is as beautiful and pure as freshly fallen snow after the
strongest storm. A true angel meant for Heaven somehow loves him and
chose him above all others. Louis wants to weep.
“Harry, I…” Louis doesn’t know how to finish the thought. The words ‘love
you’ don't feel like they are enough. He wishes he could write poetry like
Harry. Maybe he will try someday. Writing helped him during camp. Maybe
there is something to it, but for now Louis will just continue to look at
Harry with adoration, his eyes stinging with unshed tears from the emotion
trapped in his chest. His heart feels light with it, unlike the sadness that
weighed it down just days ago. He feels like it has connected with Harry's
heart again, and it never plans to let go. He may actually die if he forces
them to separate, sure most if would stay with Harry’s.
“‘M ready, Lou. Fuck. Please. Need you. Lemme ride you.” Whatever
Louis was about to say gets lost on the way from his brain to his mouth
with that. His dick though, his dick is very much present and heard every
single fucking word that was said, sounding as though they were pulled
through gravel before they left Harry’s black painted lips. Do dicks even
have ears? Louis doesn’t have time to consider it because he is nodding his
head. Harry has never asked to ride him before. Harry hasn’t bottomed very
much, and never felt confident enough to actually ride Louis’ dick. Holy
fuck.
Louis moves so that he is laying on the bed, Harry quickly straddling his
hips. Harry looks nervous, white teeth biting black lips as he looks down at
Louis, holding most of his weight on strong arms situated on either side of
Louis’ head. Louis is almost positive he can hear Harry’s pulse in his wrist,
and he has the strangest desire to bite it. He is so happy that pulse is still
there. That Harry didn’t kill himself when he thought Louis had left him.
That was his biggest fear while he was at the camp, at first, and he had
almost forgotten about it. Forgotten how scared he was for Harry’s life.
“I love you, Harry,” Louis says, threading his hand under the jersey, placing
his palm over Harry’s heart with the words. He has a strange sense of deja
vu from the action, as if it is a not so distant memory. He feels Harry’s heart
beat beneath his fingers, strong and sure, almost as if it is beating inside his
own. Harry tried to end that steady rhythm twice now, once because of him,
and Louis just doesn't know how to process that. He hates Mark for doing
that. Hates Mark for forcing him to hurt Harry. Harry is right. It is Mark’s
fault, and the fucker deserves everything he has coming to him in prison.
They all do.
Louis is suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, his eyes stinging with

unshed tears. He had been so fucking stupid to push Harry away for God.
He can’t believe he allowed himself to forget this, how good this feels. How
real it is. The feeling in his chest, that seems to both stop his heart and keep
it beating, is real. He never had that feeling over God. He never really had
faith in God, just in Harry. He had faith that Harry and he would figure out
a way for them to be together. He had faith that Harry would tell him his
story, and he did. He never felt this type of unconditional love towards God.
He was just told he was supposed to, so he told himself that he did. A lie,
obviously. Louis was even good at lying to himself. Yet, they told him he
couldn’t love Harry, and he does. With all of his heart and damned soul.
_________
Harry’s heart stutters in his chest with Louis’ words. He still isn’t used to
Louis saying them, and he doesn’t think he will ever will be. Harry looks
down from his position on top of Louis, his cock twitching at his view
because it is possibly the most heavenly thing he has ever seen. He has been
on top of Louis before, but never in this capacity. Never with his legs
straddling Louis’ hips, getting ready to sink down on his thick cock. The
jersey feels hot on his skin, the 28 on his back feeling as though it is
branding him, leaving the number there for eternity. Louis’ number. Harry
places his hand on Louis’ chest, the erratic beat of Louis’ heart below his
fingertips. “I love you, too, Louis.”
He looks down at his boyfriend, the moths fluttering in his stomach again.
He has never been on top before. What if he is horrible at it? What if his
uncoordinated limbs won’t cooperate properly, and he can’t keep a rhythm?
Louis can see everything from this angle. He can see all of Harry’s
imperfections. Fuck. He just has to look to his right and find the ugly scars
adorning Harry’s arm. Louis does look over at them then, as if reading
Harry’s mind. Instead of disgust written on his features, Louis leans over to
kiss them. Harry’s heart feels like it is about to burst. Holy fuck. What did
he do to deserve Louis?
Harry bites his lip, almost forgetting about the lipstick he placed there
earlier. It’s probably a mess now, and Harry doesn’t even want to think
about his eyeliner. He probably resembles the raccoon that used to come
into their backyard when he was younger. He fed it marshmallows and
named it NomNom. Seemed like a good name at the time, but now he
probably resembles NomNom’s gay first cousin, FruFru. Louis doesn’t
seem to mind if his makeup is smeared though, because he is currently
peering at Harry as if he were the moon.
Harry takes a deep breath, nodding once. Louis returns his nod, using the
hand that is not currently resting on Harry’s chest to help Harry. It takes
Harry a few tries, his heart racing and his cheeks heating in embarrassment,
before he is finally able to line himself up. Once he feels the head of Louis’
cock pressing against his rim, he slowly sinks down, allowing his body
ample time to adjust. It’s been a while since he has bottomed, although he
has fingered himself over the past few months, pretending it was Louis. He
only hated himself for those thoughts half of the time. Once he is fully
seated on Louis’ hard length, he realizes he has no idea what the fuck to do
now. He feels completely out of his element.
“You’re beautiful. So beautiful, Harry. I’m so sorry for fucking this up,”
Louis murmurs reaching a small hand up, Harry feeling Louis’ fingers
tangling at the nape of his neck, then a pressure there. Harry falls down on
Louis’ chest, his hips coming up a bit. He hears Louis hiss out a breath, and
Harry fucking seconds that because the friction feels so good. Louis doesn’t
bring their lips together. Instead, he cups Harry’s jaw with his hand, the
other still on Harry’s chest, bunching the fabric up under his armpits. Louis’
blue eyes are honest, and Harry feels like he is floating among the clouds,
no God in sight.
“You didn’t fuck this up. We’re together now. Don’t dwell on the past,”
Harry tells him because he knows he needed to hear those words at one
point in his life. Louis kisses his lips lightly, keeping it chaste. His lips are
soft and warm, everything Harry ever needed to live. As if of their own
accord, his hips begin to slowly move. He keeps the motions small and
steady, but even that rocks his entire world, fireworks erupting in his vision.
He feels too much and not enough. The drag of Louis’ cock as it moves in
him, pressing against his spot with each shallow thrust. The honesty in
Louis’ eyes is what makes his heart beat, though. He remembers how it
feels to have a heartbeat.
“Fuck. You feel so good, Harry. So fucking good. So real. Fuck. Harry, you
are my God, and I will worship you. Fuck all other Gods. They aren’t real.
You are. We are.” With those words, Louis brings their lips crashing
together, the back of Louis’ hand pressing against his own from their
aligned chests, the tight jersey still bunched up, allowing it to happen. Harry
barely even notices it anymore, too caught up in the moment. They both
remove them at the same time, pressing their hearts together, the beats
synchronized. Harry immediately intertwines their fingers, scars lining up
perfectly in the dim light. Louis licks the seam of Harry’s mouth, and Harry
allows him entrance moaning when Louis’ tongue delves into the wet heat.
He tries to be quiet, well aware of the fact that they aren’t alone in the
house.
“Oh my God. Fuck. Lou,” Harry whines, his hips moving faster, almost out
of instinct at this point. He doesn't feel like he has control over his body. It
is just moving to chase their release, wanting to feel Louis’ come inside of
him once more. Whatever he is doing, seems to be working because Louis’
breathing is becoming erratic. His left hand tracing a path down Harry’s
spine, between the ‘2’ and the ‘8’ printed on his jersey, making him shiver,
before he ends on his ass, squeezing hard and spurring Harry on, getting
ever closer to madness.
“No God here, babe. Just you,” Louis responds, the words coming out high
and breathy as he murmurs them directly into Harry’s ear. He feels the
familiar pull of pleasure deep within his stomach, his balls aching. His shaft
is getting just enough friction from their breaths while it is trapped between
them, his movements starting to become a bit more frantic. He almost tells
Louis that he shouldn’t steal his lines, but his brain can no longer form
coherrent sentences unless ‘fuck’ is a longer statement than Harry had
originally thought. He sits up on Louis, the jersey falling down his torso
with the movement, allowing Louis to take in the site of Harry on top of
him, wearing nothing but his jersey as he rides his cock. He knows deep
down that Louis is probably loving it. Harry fucking loves it.
Harry decides that he kind of likes being on top and riding Louis. He likes
experimenting to figure out which movements prompt certain reactions
from his boyfriend. He finds that Louis moans loudest when Harry does
more of a thrusting motion but growls when Harry spreads his knees wide
to get Louis’ cock situated deep inside him as he grinds. Harry doesn’t
know which he likes more, so he switches between the two when he feels
like he is getting close to his release. They are both quiet, moans and growls
muffled somehow, the only sounds in the room are their heavy breaths and
the steady rhythm of the low slapping sound Harry’s ass makes when it
meets Louis’ balls.
“Fuck, Harry. You feel so good. Riding me. Perfect. So good. Holy shit.
Fuck,” Louis whispers, almost like a prayer. Harry has no idea if there is a
God for anal sex. Probably, given how much the ancient Romans love
orgies, but that is neither here nor there. Maybe Louis is just praying to
Harry at this point. Didn’t he just say that Harry was his God, and he would
worship him? Harry vaguely remembers telling Louis he should worship
sex instead, but he was mostly joking that day. He wanted to see what Louis
would do, but now, he is almost turned on by the idea. Harry knows he
worships Louis. Can a God worship another God?
“Lou,” Harry whines brokenly when Louis’ hand drops his own in favor of
finding his hard leaking cock, and he begins a steady stroke, timing each
motion to the grind of Harry’s hips. Harry’s legs are spread wide as he
crashes down onto Louis’ chest once more, the slippery material of the shirt
making a sliding noise against Louis’ skin as his movements become more
erratic. He traps Louis' hand between them, loving the feeling of the fabric
on the head of his cock as he keeps moving on top of Louis, to the rhythm
of their heartbeats and breaths. Louis releases his cock, gripping Harry’s ass
with both hands for a brief moment, before it comes back up to tangle their
fingers together once more.
Harry wants every single part of his body to touch Louis. He wants to crawl
inside of Louis’ skin and live there forever just to be close to him. That may
be creepy, but that is how Harry feels at the current moment, afraid that
maybe Louis will still leave him, even after all of this. He can feel Louis’
small fingers gripping his ass hard, his other hand feeling as though it is
trying to break the bones of Harry’s own. A moment later, Harry hisses out
a breath, biting Louis’ neck to keep from screaming as Louis’ small finger
traces his hole, like he wants to feel the place he is entering Harry, where
they are joined. Mirror. They could use a fucking mirror, like in the hotel
the first time Harry had ever bottomed. That felt special, but this feels even
more so somehow because Harry feels like they have a future. Yes, he is
still concerned that he will wake up tomorrow, and Louis will change his
mind however he also has hope that he won’t.
He was so scared of that at the bar when Louis ran after hearing someone
say the name ‘Mark’. Harry almost didn’t follow him, unsure if Louis
would want to be alone, but ultimately decided he needed to. Louis
followed him when Harry panicked in the hallway of their school after
Travis called him a name. He pretended he didn’t want Louis to follow him
at the time, but he is glad Louis did. Louis helped him so much that day,
and Harry wanted to help Louis this time, therefore, he ran after him. He is
so glad he did because he was able to calm Louis down, but he just wishes
Louis would stop apologizing. He knows how that is, though. It's hard to
get past the guilt and feeling as though you are a burden on others around
you.
“Fuck. Missed you. Missed you so much. Missed this. This is the only
Heaven I want to go to, because Heaven is with you. I know that now,
Harry. I knew that then, but I think I was scared to admit it out loud. I’m not
afraid anymore. You gave me that strength.” Louis’ voice is wavering, his
lip quivering in the low light. Harry thought they had cried enough during
sex, but it turns out he had been wrong because his eyes are burning with
unshed tears. He looks down at Louis, finding his blue eyes suspiciously
shiny, his face caught somewhere between remorse and pleasure. It is
hauntingly beautiful. Even the damaged can be lovely. Sometimes that is
what makes them so beautiful, the wear and tear on their structure, showing
how much they have survived. Like ruins in an ancient city that people
travel from all over the world to see. It is breathtaking and real.
“You don’t need religion, Louis. Shit. I-I don’t demand your worship. God.
Fuck. I want to work for your love, and I would never damn y-you if you
didn’t. Know that. Fuck. Know that I love you unconditionally, for
everything you are and everything you’re not. Oh Gods, Louis. Fuck. Feels
so good. Louis, I love your light and your darkness. I love your shadows
and highlights. I love your kindness and your strength. I love who you are,
inside and out. Your heartbeat, the breaths in your chest, your fucking soul,
Lou. I love it all. I love every fucking cell in your body, the ones that make
up the scars and the ones that make up the smooth skin,” Harry says, his
voice so deep he almost doesn’t recognize it himself.
“I know. I’m choosing to worship you. To worship this. To worship us. I

know this is real. This is deserving of that faith. I have faith is us, Harry.”
Louis’ words stutter then, hissing on a breath when Harry manages to widen
his legs even more, taking Louis even deeper. Harry is in complete control
of their pace. Louis is flexing his strong legs and ass to meet his thrusts, but
that’s it. Harry is in control as he continues to ride Louis deliberately, their
releases coming on slowly instead of their normal quick pace. “Fuck Harry.
Please. ‘M close. Please… keep going. Keep doing that. Feels so good.”
“‘M close, too. Fuck. You feel so good inside me. So fucking good. Oh my
god. Splitting me open. Fuck,” Harry rambles, kissing any part of Louis’
body he can reach in that moment, his hips not picking up speed at all. He
wants to feel every moment of this. Every single juncture between healing
heartbeats as they both teeter on the edge of oblivion. Of Nirvana. Of
paradise. Of fucking Heaven. Whatever society wants to label it, Harry
feels as though he is on the cusp, nearing rebirth. Like some kind of
mythical bird that has risen from the ashes of who they were, the charred
flesh providing a place for new growth. Sometimes the most beautiful
things in the world grow from destruction.
“Mine. You’re fucking mine. Always. You’re mine, and I am yours.

Forever. Love is deathless. It’s eternal. You are mine, and I am yours.”
Louis' voice is broken, his hand tracing the ‘28’ on Harry’s back, the other
running along the ‘TOMLINSON’ across Harry’s broad shoulders, the
words and numbers marking Harry in some irrevocable way. Louis has
changed Harry, but not in a way that he no longer recognizes himself. More
so, Louis has shown Harry who he was supposed to be without the trauma
of his past. Harry found happiness in Louis, and now within himself. He
doesn't need Louis’ name or number to be written across his back because
he feels it’s presence there every single day. He is Louis’, and what they
have is everlasting. Who needs Heaven when you can find the same thing
on Earth?
“Love you,” Harry mumbles, bending to crash their lips together as the coil
behind his stomach snaps, hurtling him over the cliff of his release. He
comes a moment later, moaning and panting into Louis’ mouth as the hot
liquid coats Louis’ chest and jersey. Louis screams into Harry’s mouth, his
fingers gripping onto the shoulders of his jersey, and Harry swears can feel
the twitch of Louis’ cock as he empties inside of him. He moans with that
knowledge, having more of Louis inside of him, branding him. He kisses
Louis’ through it, the slow grind of his hips bordering on maddening.
“Love you, too, my Hazza,” Louis murmurs a moment later, when Harry’s
body is laying on him, completely boneless. Harry is probably squishing
him, but Louis isn’t complaining. In fact, he is almost sure Louis would
keep him there even if he tried to pull away. So he just stays in that
position, Louis’ cock softening inside of him, as they both come down from
their high, Harry’s come smearing between them. Louis continues to trace
the letters and numbers on the back of his jersey, and Harry’s hands are just
resting on the pillow beside Louis’ head, occasionally petting his hair or
running a soft strand between his thumb and index finger.
“Are you nervous about tomorrow?” Harry asks, biting his lip as he rolls off
Louis’ body because he is becoming over sensitive. He situates himself so
that he is laying on his side, head propped up on his shoulder. Louis turns to
mirror his position, not really looking at Harry, deep in thought as he
considers Harry’s question. Something in the room shifts then, going from
loving to insecure in a matter of seconds. Harry almost wishes he never
asked the question, but he can’t take it back now. He doesn't have a fucking
time turner, so all he can do is wait and hope he didn’t ruin any kind of
good mood Louis had been building.
He just feels as though he is on very thin ice, hearing it creak below his feet
with each new step towards his destination. One wrong move, one step that
is too heavy, and it may break below him, his body falling into the cold
water, only to have the ice seal over his head quickly, trapping him beneath
the surface once more. He doesn’t want to go back to that cold numbness,
the indifference on whether he lived or died. He doesn’t want to go back to
the distance, so he is terrified of the ice breaking, however, he knows he
needs to at least take steps. He can’t stay in one place or it will certainly
give out, and he will be no closer to reaching the other side with Louis.
“Yeah. I think the conversation I need to have with Lottie and Fizzy is
going to be tough. They are strong girls, and I’ve just shut them out.
Children tend to be more forgiving, and although Lots and Fiz kind of know
what happened, I don’t think they can comprehend it, you know? I’d say
I’m nervous, but less so now that I’ve kind of talked to Phoebs and Dais…
if that makes sense,” Louis tells him, biting his lip. Harry nods his head in
agreement because it does make sense.
“Yeah. I mean I’ve talked to Lots and Fiz about it a bit. I think they mostly
feel betrayed, and they just don’t really understand why you shut them out
the way you did. I think if you kind of explain your reasoning behind it,
they will forgive you. You’re their brother, and they love you. They won’t
forget all the good moments. They knew you were still in there, they just
need a bit of reassurance, you know?” Harry reaches over with his free
hand, stroking Louis’ arm in hopes to soothe him. He is just glad the ice
didn’t break, at this point.
“Yeah. You’re right, Haz. I’ll just apologize and beg for forgiveness. I really
do want to be there for them, and I hate that I let them convince me that I
was toxic to my family. I hate that I let them convince me of a lot of things.
After the camp, I was just so confused. Like, it’s so hard to explain, but it
felt like I was living my life in a fog. Everything looked hazy and obscure. I
couldn’t even see my hand in front of my face most days. I just couldn’t
understand why God would make me go through that unless he did want me
to change, but then I would hear your voice in my head saying that God
isn’t real. It was just very difficult for me to come to terms with the fact that
it was all for nothing, you know? I didn’t want to have gone through that for
nothing,” Louis says, his eyes shiny with his words.
“I know, love. I had the same thoughts when Logan and his friends beat me
up. I mean, obviously it’s different, but at the time, that is exactly how I felt.
I was so confused. I think though, what helped me, is knowing that it may
not have been for nothing after all. I’m sure my story could help a lot of
people, just like yours could. Fuck, Louis, you have already helped a lot of
people just from the simple fact that the camp is shut down and everyone
involved is in jail,” Harry expresses, his voice passionate. He knows Louis
mentioned that he has guilt associated with it, so he hopes it’s not a wrong
step, the ice groaning with this added burden.
“That’s another thing. I just felt so fucking guilty Harry. Like… in my head
they were trying to help me, and I repaid them by having them arrested and
sent to jail,” Louis says, and Harry opens his mouth with a response ready,
but Louis places a finger over his lips, a small smile playing on his lovely
features. “Don’t. I know what you’re going to say. You’re right. I shouldn’t
have felt guilty, but I couldn’t see that at the time. I know that, now, of
course. I don’t feel bad at all about having to testify against them soon,
where a week ago, I was teetering on that decision. So maybe you’re right.
Maybe I can make a difference with my story, but I think I need to process
everything first. I think I’m starting to, finally, but I know I’ll have really
bad days, Haz.”
“I know you are, love. You’re gonna have days that are dark and grey where
you are going to go back to feeling lost, but please let me help you through
those. You have helped me so much, Lou, and I wanna do the same for you.
We can be there for each other. We can get through everything together,
hand in hand. I’ll be a compass for your ship, love. There is nothing wrong
with having bad days, just don’t allow them to define you. That is
something I’ve learned in therapy.” Harry intertwines their fingers with his
words, having the desire to trace the black tattoo on Louis’ arm now. It
looks so good on him. Harry didn't think he would ever see Louis with one,
but it’s incredibly sexy.
“I will. I promise, Harry. When I say that I want you, I fucking mean it. I
know I was a fuckstick for a while there, but I fucking promise you that I
won’t wake up tomorrow and think this was all a mistake. I won’t suddenly
decide that I believe in God again because I seriously don’t think I ever
will. I believe in what is real. I believe in what I can see and touch and
taste. I believe in you. In us. God is so obsolete when I have those things all
around me,” Louis declares, his voice quiet despite the passion he has put
into the words. Harry can’t stop himself from leaning in, kissing Louis on
the very tip of his freckled nose.
“The reasons you were a fuckstick makes perfect sense. I wasn’t going to
give up because I love you. I knew the real you was just lost among the
clouds covering our sky,” Harry says, his voice slow and methodological as
exhaustion begins weighing heavily on his limbs. It’s been a crazy
weekend, full of emotional ups and downs. He is looking forward to
another night spent in Louis’ arm. He has only ever spent the night in
Louis’ room once, and that was for Valentine’s Day. It was an accident
really, and Harry ended up having to sneak out the window. It’s nice to not
have to hide anymore.
“I’m gonna go get a washcloth so we can wash up. As much as I hate to say
it, you should probably take the jersey off. It’s disgusting now,” Louis
whispers, laughing when Harry scrunches his nose, looking down to find
the come and sweat drying on the material, sticking it to his skin. Louis gets
out of bed, walking to the bathroom. Harry sits up, and does as he was
asked, taking off the jersey and throwing it on the floor. Louis hands him a
wet washcloth a moment later. Harry decides to start with trying to get the
makeup off. The eyeliner comes off easily, the liquid lip is much more
difficult without makeup wipes.
“Did I get it all?” Harry asks. When Louis nods, he wipes what remains of
the come off his stomach and groin area, then hands the cloth back to Louis,
who just throws it into the bathroom to worry about another time. Louis
then turns off the light, casting the room in complete darkness, only the
moon to give any type of illumination. Louis looks out the window for a
second, and Harry wonders what he is thinking about. His gaze seems to be
on the moon. Louis shakes his head, seeming to snap out of it. He climbs
into bed behind Harry, cuddling him close.
“I’ll never run from you again, Harry. I’m so proud of you. I’m so proud of
how far you’ve come. I’m so fucking lucky to call you mine, and I will
never take that for granted again. I will spend the rest of my life apologizing
if I have to because I can’t imagine what I’ve put you through,” Louis says,
cuddling up to Harry’s back. His words send hot air over Harry’s neck,
making him shiver under the covers. Harry has to blink back tears at Louis'
words. It is just like Louis to be worried about Harry in this. Concerned
about others above himself. Louis is selfless like that.
“You don’t have to apologize for this anymore, Lou, so please don’t. You
didn’t do anythin’ wrong, so there is nothin’ to forgive. Yeah, you pushed
me away, but it’s understandable after everything you have gone through.
I’m just glad that you eventually took my hand and allowed me to help ya.
You told me one time that I’m strong. I didn’t believe you at the time, but
you were right. I am strong, so let me carry some of your burden like you
carried some of mine. Let me lift you up when you're weak. That’s all I
really want, Lou,” Harry explains, his eyes feeling heavy with each new
word that is uttered from his lips. He can hear the southern lilt come back
into his voice, but he doesn't bother fighting it. He can always be himself in
front of Louis.
“Okay, Hazza. I think I can do that. We can find strength in each other.
Maybe your broken pieces and my broken pieces actually fit together to
create something whole,” Louis whispers, and Harry perks up at that. It
sounds like poetry, and Harry wonders, not for the first time, if Louis would
be any good at writing. There was a certain amount of imagery in his
journal. He was able to express himself in a way that made Harry feel what
Louis was feeling at the time. That is a gift, and he hopes that whoever
Louis has a psychologist will encourage him to write.
Suddenly a thought dawns on Harry, and he feels the need to express it. It
could be his tired mind forgetting to have a filter, or maybe it just needs to
be said. Either way, it is another one of those moments where the ice could
crack. It could break below him, but he needs to ask, for his own sanity. He
needs to know where Louis stands and he needs reassurance in this.
“Tomorrow’s Sunday. Are you going to church?”
“I think we are reestablishing Sodomy Sunday at this point, and everytime

I’m with you, you take me to church. You teach me. We worship. We pray.
We celebrate and love. I don’t need God or a church to have faith in things.
I have better reasons to be on my knees,” Louis tells him, and Harry feels
his body laughing with his joke. Harry smiles, turning over to look at Louis.
Harry was right. He does look gorgeous bathed in the pale light of the
moon. He looks soft and perfect. Harry glances over at the clock, noting
that it has been Sunday for about an hour now, so they have already
celebrated Sodomy Sunday it seems.
“Good. Then you can come to the park with us to play football. Ash and
Luke are coming. It should be fun,” Harry invites, smiling at Louis before
he turns back around, laying his head on Louis arm and the pillow below.
He imagines Louis playing with them, maybe he and Louis can finally be
on the same team. Ashton is pretty athletic, but Luke is about as useless as
Harry, his long limbs uncoordinated. The teams would be pretty evenly
matched, and maybe they can even make tackling a thing.
“I’d love to. Spending time with Ash and Luke sounds like exactly what I
need. I’ve missed Ash, and I’d love to get to know Luke more,” Louis says,
and Harry can hear the tiredness seeping into the inflection of his voice. His
tone is calmer, the words coming slower. They are still much faster than
even Harry’s normal speaking voice, however, it is slow for Louis. Harry
releases a breath he had been holding, a small part of him afraid Louis
would decline the offer. He and Asthon had talked during the party, but not
since then, so he wasn’t sure how Louis had felt about that. Maybe they can
both finally move on. They can both heal. Ashton has spoken so much
about how Louis saved him, and how he was so close to breaking before
Louis sacrificed himself for Ashton. He thinks that Ashton needs closure on
the whole ordeal just as much as Louis. Ashton understands what Louis has
gone through and is a big key to Louis’ recovery.
“You’re my sunshine, Lou, and I’m the dark. One is a bit harder to deal
with than the other, however both are necessary for survival and detrimental
if lost,” Harry says, his voice low, his eyes becoming heavy once more,
lulled by Louis’ steady breathing against his back. He doesn't know what
made him think of it, but he felt it needed to be said. It felt as necessary as
breathing. He needs Louis to know how important he is. The sun is the
reason why things live and breathe. It’s amazing how at home he feels in
Louis’ arms, bathing in his rays. He doesn’t feel burdened by the world
when they are together, as if he is finally able to rest a little easier.
“If that is the case, then we create shadows where hope and knowledge
thrive,” Louis responds, his voice sounding far off. Harry feels Louis’ lips
on his cheek a moment later, kissing the highest point. He bets Louis would
look lovely in the pale moonlight. Louis is just lovely in general. He is
Harry’s favorite person in the entire world. Harry feels like his universe
revolves around Louis. He has learned to live without him, but that doesn't
mean he should. When Louis speaks again, Harry tries to listen despite how
far away the world seems. “Thank you for setting me free, Harry. Thank
you for saving me from myself. I love you.”
“Thank you for teaching me that I’m worthy. Thank you for showing me
that I can trust. Thank you for saving me from myself. I love you, too,
Louis.” Harry’s words are slurred, but he thinks he got his point across
because Louis squeezes him. A moment later his eyes fall shut, the world
dark around him but he knows that his light is behind him. Harry is happy.
He didn’t think it would be possible for him, but he is proud to say that he
has acheived his New Year’s resolution because he is so fucking happy, he
feels as though he could burst with it. At one point, Harry thought
everything was made to be broken. It could be true, but he has come to
realize that broken is not bad. Broken is beautiful and breathtaking and real.
Harry is broken. Louis is broken. Together, they can be whole.
Chapter End Notes
I'M NOT CRYING.... YOU ARE!!!
If you like this story please know that, Kudos and Comments always
welcome!
No Matter What- Epilogue
Chapter Summary
It's two years later for Harry and Louis, and Louis finally gets some
much needed closure.
Chapter Notes
I can't believe it's actually over. Almost a year of writing. 40 weeks of
posting. 400+k of words. My heart and soul is in this fic. Everything I
have. Everything I will ever be, has been laid out before you. You have
come on this journey with me, and I can't even begin to express my
gratitude. When I posted the first chapter of this fic, I was so fucking
scared. Horrified really because I knew exactly what I had planned. I
was afraid, as the old southern saying goes that I had bitten off more
than I could chew. I questioned my ability to even pull it off. I still do,
but here we are. It's done. I feel like a piece of my heart is out there in
the world now. I showed it to you all, and most of you accepted it.
Took it gently. I means so much to me. You have no idea. I love each
and every single person that read this and that came on this journey
with me. I'm overwhelmed. I don't deserve any of you all, but I am so
thankful every single day for you.
I wanted to take a moment to give one last shout out to the most
lovely, amazing, caring and thoughtful people I know Zoe and Dana.
Zoe is a writer as well, so please her name to visit their Ao3 page and
them. I really, really wouldn't.
Also to Ashley and Linda. Even though they didn't beta it, they still
talked me down off a cliff on occasion. I love you all so much.
Finally, Laura, Morgane, Kat, Stacey, Caroline and Brande who have
been reading it ever week. You all have been my cheerleaders from the
very beginning. The amount of time you have put into this story,
analyzing it, is just... crazy to me. Like I analyze Harry and Louis'
lyrics, so the fact that someone wants to analyze what I write... is just...
really hard for me to grasp. The fact that people actually love what I
write this much is just... wow. I have no words. I appropriate you all so
very much.
As always, there is a Spotify Playlist that will be updated weekly with
the songs represented as chapter titles as well as any other songs I feel
fit with the emotions/theme of the chapter.
If you are still reading this and still haven't made it to the chapter, you
are a true champion. I love you. xx
I need you, right here

By my side
You're everything I'm not, in my life
We're indestructible, we are untouchable
Nothing can take us down tonight
You are so beautiful
It should be criminal, that you could be mine
And we will make it out alive
I promise you this love will never die- Papa Roach
Two years later…
“Are you sure you wanna do this, Lou?” Harry asks for the one hundred and
sixty seventh time in the last hour alone. Louis takes a deep breath,
considering the question for the first time since Harry started asking it.
Before, it was easier to just say ‘yes’ rather than giving himself a chance to
back out. Now, he has a hand held metal detector going over his body, his
shoes off, and his wallet, along with his keys and phone, in a small bucket
off to the side, having already gone through an x-ray machine.
“Yeah. I think. Sarah says it’s the last hurdle I need to face before I can
finally start to move on. I mean, I know I’ve been a lot better and overcome
so much since I started therapy, but I think I need to do this,” Louis
answers, swallowing down the lump that has formed in his throat. He and
his therapist have been discussing it for a few months now, and Louis thinks
he is finally ready. Despite his assurance, his stomach is in knots, has been
since he left the house with Harry an hour ago. He has been trying to
breathe through it, but the closer he got, the worse it seems. He glances at
the guard, smiling tightly as the man hands him the bucket with his
belongings. Once they have been securely placed in his pockets, he bends to
put his shoes on, glancing at Harry as they run the handheld device over his
long, lean body, watching it light red when it passes over the button of his
tight jeans.
“I agree, but you don’t have to push yourself if you’re not ready,” Harry
tells him, thanking the guard when he hands him his own bucket. Louis
watches as he slips his phone in his back pocket, his wallet in the other. He
thinks about how much Harry has changed since they met three years ago.
He’s gotten taller and broader. His hair is much longer, dark curls barely
brushing his shoulders. Louis loves to run his fingers through them,
watching in fascination as they retake their previous shape, much like Louis
has managed to do after years of therapy. He still wears band t-shirts and
makeup, but now he will also wear silky blouses, that can only be described
as pretty. Louis loves him so much it fucking hurts.
“No. I am ready,” Louis assures him, even though his heart skips a beat as if
he is lying. The guard points to the right, a sign above a doorway displaying
‘Visitation Room’. Louis takes a deep breath, glancing over at his
boyfriend, finding his green eyes already on him. As if Harry understands,
he intertwines their fingers, tattoos lining up perfectly. Louis looks down,
seeing their arms littered with the dark ink now, most matching in some
way, others, not so much. He doesn’t regret a single one. He pulls Harry in
the direction of the doorway, taking a deep breath to say, “Mark has been
asking for me to visit for months. He says it’s important and refuses to tell
anyone but me. I figure I may as well go and get it over with, plus I think I
just need to do this. I need to confront him.”
“Okay. Do you think he will be mad if he sees me with you?” Harry asks,
his voice small and uncertain. For a second, Louis hears the boy under the
back stairwell at school, telling Louis about his life. He can almost hear his
gravelly voice as it echoes off the empty walls. Louis shakes his head to
dislodge the memory, looking over at Harry who is now gazing down.
Sometimes he forgets how much Harry has also gone through because
Harry is so different from the boy he used to be. He loved him then, and he
loves him now. He loves every version of Harry in every universe in every
lifetime. Harry is his, and he is Harry’s. Always.
“I honestly don’t give a fuck how he feels about it,” Louis starts, holding
his arm stiff in a silent command for Harry to stop walking. Harry does,
turning towards him, but keeps his eyes cast down onto his pigeon toes. “He
can’t do anything to us. There will be guards everywhere. He can call me
whatever he wants. He has said worse, and has given me to people who
have done worse. Fuck him. If he wants to see me, then he will see me with
my boyfriend. If he has a problem with it, then he can tuck tail and walk his
ass back to his cell. Whatever he wants to say to me, he can say to you.”
Louis then raises up on his tip toes, pressing their lips together for a second.
Harry kisses back immediately, eyes finding Louis’ when he is flat footed
again. Louis smiles, then turns, tugging Harry along.
“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll be right beside you the whole time,” Harry tells
him, walking through the threshold, into the ‘Visitation Room’. The room is
big, painted a dull gray, with square tables situated in various locations all
over the room. There are prisoners talking with their families, the low buzz
of voices floating throughout the large area. Mark has been in a minimum
security prison for about a year now. After the trial, Dr. Thompson was
placed in the same one, but Louis really hopes he doesn’t see him today. He
doesn’t know if he would be able to handle that. Seeing him and Adam
when he testified during the trail was enough to last him several lifetimes.
Those were some of the most difficult days of his life, and he has no
intention of reliving it.
“I know. Thank you for coming with me. I know this is probably just as
hard for you. I love you, Hazza,” Louis says, taking a seat at one of the
tables, Harry choosing the one beside him. He looks over to find Harry
smiling, his large hand moving to take Louis, tangling their fingers on the
cool surface of the table top. The fingers on Harry’s free hand begins
moving over some of the sketches marring Louis’ skin, lightly tracing the
scars that are woven throughout like a piece of thread, holding it all
together. It is a habit that Harry has picked up over the years, and
oftentimes Louis finds himself doing the same thing on Harry’s arm. He is
incredibly proud of Harry for being secure enough to go without his
bracelets since that afternoon in the church, proudly displaying his scars.
“I love you, too,” Harry whispers. He looks like he is going to say

something else, but he is interrupted by the sound of a door opening. Both
heads snap up at the sound, Louis' eyes traveling from the person’s chained
legs, all the way up his ugly blue jumpsuit finally landing on a familiar
face, looking much more aged than Louis remembers. Louis isn’t sure what
he was expecting. Rage, guilt, sadness, or a mixture of all three, but Louis
finds that he doesn’t really feel anything at all. He expected seeing Mark to
create some sort of emotion in him, and Louis does still feel nervous
however that’s about it.
“I’m here,” Harry says, squeezing Louis’ hand, and it is then that Louis
realizes his breathing has become somewhat irregular. Louis’ body is
shaking, the adrenaline from the build up dumping into his system,
overloading it. He tries to steady his breathing, his body having a physical
reaction, but his heart feels nothing. Uncaring towards the older man that
Louis had considered a father for the longest time. Louis understands now
that Mark was never a father to him, never someone Louis could look up to
as a male example.
“Thank you,” Louis whispers, not returning Mark’s wide smile when he
spots him. It fades quickly when his beady blue eyes see Harry sitting
beside Louis, his gaze dropping immediately to their joined hands. Louis
wonders if their hands are going to catch on fire from Mark’s heated glare.
They don’t even feel hot, so the asshole obviously doesn’t have any
supernatural powers. Maybe he should ask God for them. Louis allows
himself a small smile at that thought. Mark probably doesn't know that
Louis no longer believes in the book Mark practically shoved down his
throat. He hasn’t stepped foot inside a church since he and Harry fucked in
one a few years ago. He doesn't regret a single fucking thing about that day.
Church is supposed to be full of pivotal and life changing moments. He is
pretty sure they aren’t supposed to be epiphanies about a false God, but as
the tattoo on his chest proclaims ‘it is what it is’.
“What’s he doing here?” Mark spits by way of greeting, sitting down at the
table after the guard uncuffs his hands. He places his now free hands on the
table in front of him, directly across from Louis, gaze boring into him.
Louis barely resists the urge to squirm, suddenly feeling like a child being
scolded by a parent. Instead, he straightens his posture as Harry squeezes
his hand gently, reminding him of what he is fighting for. What he has been
fighting for, and this is his last big hurdle. He still has panic attacks. He still
has days of feeling overwhelmed, and he still struggles with being
submerged in water or being alone, however he has gotten a lot better.
“His name is Harry. He is my boyfriend, and I invited him. If you can’t

speak to me with him here, then I will just be leaving,” Louis says, bracing
himself to stand. His heart is beating wildly with his words, already
annoyed with Mark’s behavior. Louis supposes a very small part of him had
hoped that Mark had changed during his time here. That he had been taught
a lesson over the whole ordeal and would accept Louis for who he is. The
rest of Louis’ family has, his mom and sisters loving Harry almost as much
as Louis does.
“No wait. Fine. He can stay,” Mark says, holding up his hands in a show of
surrender. Louis allows his body to relax minutely, looking at Mark
expectantly. He just wants to get this over with. He wants Mark to say
whatever it is he has to say, so that he and Harry can leave. They have a big
day tomorrow and Louis doesn’t really want to spend the entire day with a
horrible excuse of a person. They have a thousand errands to run for Jay
after this, so there is definitely a better use of Louis' time.
“How have you been, son?” Mark asks, keeping his eyes trained on Louis,
acting as though Harry isn’t even there. Louis subconsciously leans into
Harry, forcing the other man into Mark’s peripheral vision. Up close, Mark
looks even older. His hair is still cropped short, more white than brown
now. He has crows feet around his eyes, even when he isn’t smiling. The
frown lines between his eyebrows and on his forehead are deeper now,
making him appear much older than his actual years. Prison hasn’t been
good to Mark, and Louis can’t find a single fuck to give. He recognizes this
feeling. It’s hate. It’s the same feeling he now has for Adam and for Dr.
Thompson. His therapist tells him it’s important to recognize his feelings
and understand why he has them, so that he can work to move through
them.
“Don’t call me ‘son.’ I’m not your son. I may have your last name, but I
was never your son. You were never my father,” Louis tells him, his voice
only wavering slightly with his words. He hates that waver, but the
emotions of the moment are starting to hit him. He kind of wants to cry,
flashes of Mark’s hateful last words he spat at him as he left him at that
camp to be ‘cured’ coming to his mind. Harry’s hold tightens, bringing
Louis back to the present. Harry is his anchor. He looks down, finding that
exact tattoo on Harry’s wrist, connecting with the rope on Louis’. Harry
grounds him, and he ties to Harry. They need each other to work properly,
but they can exist without the other. They are just better together.
“I see you’ve put the Devil’s mark on your body,” Mark says, glancing
down at Louis arm. Mark had always said that tattoos were the mark of the
beast, so when Jesus came back to the Earth, he would use tattoos as a way
to distinguish his loyal followers to those that belong in Hell. It was a part
of the reason Louis had always been so hesitant to get them, but even he
knew how crazy that sounded. He usually just stuck with the normal ‘your
body is his temple’ bullshit he was fed. Now he proudly displays all of his
tattoos. All the boys have them except Niall and Luke, neither of them
willing to commit to a design. They love to give them a hard time about it,
but they ultimately respect their decision.
“Is there a point to all of this, Mark? Did you just bring me here to try to
convert me? Make me see the light again? Maybe just tell me how horrible
I am, and that we are going to hell for a choice that wasn’t a choice at all? If
that is all you intend to do, then I don’t want to fucking hear it. Save your
breath. There is nothing wrong with me. I’m not wrong. I’m not an
abomination. I love Harry. Get that through your thick fucking skull and
stop talking about it, or I am out of that door right fucking now.” Louis’
voice is stronger now, as he uses a finger to tap the table punctuating his
sentences.
“I care about you, Louis. I am just trying to save your soul. He has
corrupted you. I can't believe you let that boy get to you again, not after
everything you had been taught. How could you? How could you allow him
around you sisters?” Mark asks, the venom in his tone filling Louis’ veins
with the familiar toxicity that he had felt the last time Louis had seen him.
Louis can’t breathe, his mind flashing back to the day Mark ripped up the
letter, then forced him in the car. The words he said on the way to Hell,
forcing Louis’ body into a panic attack.
“I’m gonna stop you right there, fuck face,” Louis interrupts, his body
shaking but his voice steady. Mark closes his mouth, surprised by Louis’
disruption. “Harry is my boyfriend. I love him more than anything in this
fucking world. You aren’t even worth the same amount to me as a single
strand of curly hair on his head. Do you understand that? You will treat
Harry with respect. Stop with the abomination bullshit. I’m not buying that
anymore. I don’t believe in fairytales, Mark. They are for children and the
parents who want to control them. So, I am only going to say this once, and
you better fucking listen, Mark. Cut that shit out. You never cared about me,
so stop pretending you did. If you cared, then you would have been able to
see past your faith and hatred. So you either shut the fuck up and respect
my boyfriend, or you can fuck right off back to your cell where you will
rot.”
“How’s your mom? The girls?” Mark asks, changing the subject quickly
despite the anger in his eyes. Louis’ head spins with the abrupt shift, but he
is proud of himself for standing up to Mark. For finally saying what he
should have said years ago, defending Harry. Mark looks like he wants to
strangle Louis, but Louis feels safe next to Harry, guards all around them.
Mark was deemed ‘non-violent’ after the first year, and Louis almost
choked. Mark is a very violent person, and he wonders exactly who’s dick
he had to suck to be declared that. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Mark
had been caught beating up other inmates, homosexuality running rampant
in prisons where the men do not have access to women anymore.
“She’s great. She’s getting married tomorrow to Dan. He’s a great guy, and
a wonderful role model to the girls. She’s pregnant. Another set of twins,”
Louis answers, smiling smugly. He was thrilled when his mom announced
her engagement, then two months later, told everyone they were expecting.
They decided to rush the wedding along after that, figuring they wouldn’t
have time once the baby arrived. Later they found out she is pregnant with
twins and knew it was a sound decision. She is so happy now; Dan is a stark
contrast to Mark. Dan accepts and loves them unconditionally.
“I figured she would go back to being a whore,” Mark comments under his
breath, and Louis sees red. He can feel the rage flowing through his veins
so strongly, that if he cut himself he is pretty sure he would set the room
alight. His body is shaking again, not with adrenaline but with anger. He
forgot how furious Mark could make him with a few simple words. He
wants to punch him. He wants to skin him alive and watch his body twitch
as a punishment for his words and actions. Louis hates him. He hates him
with ever fiber of his being, and he is so fucking happy Harry snapped him
out of the misplaced guilt he was feeling over Mark being in prison because
of him.
“Watch your fucking mouth, Mark. She is a better person than your pathetic
little mind can even fucking comprehend. You’re a hypocritical bastard, and
if you don’t get to the fucking point already, I am done here,” Louis
threatens, his voice never going above a polite level. He glances over at
Harry who gives him a reassuring smile, pride in his gaze. He knows Harry
is probably having a difficult time staying quiet during their exchanges, but
he seems to sense Louis’ need to do this on his own. Harry is a constant
support, but he doesn’t need to come to Louis’ defense. Louis has to do that
alone.
“I have prostate cancer,” Mark blurts out, and Louis freezes. What? Mark
has cancer? Louis wouldn’t know by looking at him. He doesn’t seem frail
or thin. His has all of his hair, and he just doesn’t seem sick. Louis squints
at him, trying to decide if he is telling the truth. He could be lying in a
desperate attempt to gain Louis’ pity, but Louis isn’t sure. Mark is looking
down at his clasped hands, as if he can’t look Louis in the eyes. Louis
wonders if that means he is telling the truth or lying. He is usually good at
reading people. He glances over at Harry who seems just as skeptical.
“How did you find out?” Louis asks, allowing the doubt to weave into his
tone. Mark looks back up, meeting Louis’ eyes. He’s twitchy, clearly
uncomfortable with the question. Louis isn’t surprised. The way they check
for prostate cancer is to stick a finger up a man’s asshole. Mark is so
fucking homophobic, Louis isn’t shocked that he had never allowed anyone
to do it, even if it was for his health. Maybe if he had, then they would have
caught it sooner, saving his life. Then again, he doesn’t know how bad it is
for Mark. He doesn’t seem that sick, afterall.
“Um… Joseph noticed it at first, told me I should go to the doctor. They

confirmed it. Stage four. They are starting me on chemo next week. I
haven't told your mom or sisters yet. I wanted you to be the first to know,”
Mark informs him, his face red and his leg jogging, a sure sign of nerves.
Louis doesn’t think he is lying, but how did Dr. Thompson ‘notice’? Louis
doesn’t have time to consider that question because Mark’s words sink in.
Stage four? Holy shit. He may not have much longer to live. That is pretty
advanced. Even if he does, he has months of painful treatment ahead of
him. Louis isn’t sure how he feels about that fact.
“Well good luck with all of that.” Louis’ tone is cold, his voice even. He is
surprised to find that he doesn’t really care if Mark lives or dies. It sounds
horrible, but Louis feels zero sadness over it. He does feel bad that his
sisters could potentially lose their father, but he is practically already gone
since he is in prison. Jay won’t even bring the younger girls to visit, saying
that it is no place for growing children. Lottie and Fizzy refuse to see him,
remembering everything he did to their family. Mark is going to die alone
and miserable, and Louis simply doesn’t feel any sorrow for him.
“I wanted you to come here in hopes that I could die knowing that your soul
has been saved, that you will join me in God’s Kingdom when you leave
this realm, too,” Mark says, and Louis rolls his eyes. He glares at Mark in
warning, but Mark continues as if Louis made no gesture at all. “I want to
see you again. All of you. I want you to spend eternity in Heaven with my
family, you have to give up your wicked ways. God will not allow you
entrance if you keep on this path, Louis. You let him corrupt you, but it’s
never too late for God’s saving grace…”
“Yes. Yes. Eternal damnation. The fires of Hell. Satan’s cock. I’ve heard it
all, Mark, so will you please shut the fuck up about it. There is nothing, and
I mean absolutly fucking nothing, that you could say to make me believe
again,” Louis interrupts, Mark’s face falling into confusion with his last
comment. “Yes. That’s right. I don’t believe in God, so please save your
breath. You may not have much more to spare. Also, if you go to Heaven,
then I sure as fuck don’t want to be there. I don’t want to be in any place
that allows horrible people like you entrance. That’s not the definition of
paradise. That’s the definition of Hell. Now, if you’re done trying to
‘convert’ me or whatever the fuck you were doing, then we will be on our
way.” Louis stands to leave, pulling Harry along with him, whose green
eyes are wide at Louis’ speech.
“Please just tell me you will think about what I said. Think about your soul
and those of your sister’s. I want to see you again someday, Louis. That
can’t happen as long as you are with that boy,” Mark starts looking at Harry
then grabbing Louis’ hand, so he can’t continue to leave. Louis squeezes
Harry’s hand, his temper flaring once more. Mark is fucking touching him,
and Louis wants to puke. Harry looks nervous, glancing up at the guard
who is watching their exchange carefully. “I’m going to die, Louis. I would
be lying if I said I wasn’t scared.”
Louis stares at Mark for a few seconds. The older man is scared, his eyes
wide. Louis thinks it is sort of funny. If Mark was so sure about his place in
Heaven and his belief in God, shouldn’t he be welcoming death? Doesn’t
that put him one step closer to paradise? Why would he be scared if he is so
sure? Either Mark isn’t sure that God exists, or he isn’t sure if he is good
enough to go to Heaven. Most likely the latter, so maybe Mark does feel
remorse for what he has done to Louis. He very much doubts it though
since Mark didn’t even try to apologize while he had Louis’ attention.
Instead, he used that time to tell Louis how horrible of a person he is for
loving a man. Not surprising in the least. Louis knew this would be a waste
of his time, but he is glad he came. He’s not scared of Mark anymore.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Mark. Perhaps you should pray about it.”
Louis’ tone is icy as he yanks his hand out of Mark’s tight hold. He turns
just as the older man’s mouth drops open in surprise. He releases Harry’s
hand in order to rest his own on Harry’s lower back, displaying his tattoos
to Mark as they walk away. He doesn’t look back. He doesn’t need to. He
made his peace. He never wants to see Mark again, not because hates him,
but because Mark is undeserving.
Louis didn’t realize how much his ex-stepfather had still been affecting him
until that moment. Louis feels better. He feels like he can take on the world,
not that he needs to hide away from it anymore. He is glad he came despite
his nerves. He needed to, even though he isn’t sure why. Louis knows he
will never be the same person he was before camp. That place altered him
down to his very core, however, that doesn’t mean he can’t love the person
he is now. He is still Louis. He still jokes. He still laughs. He still loves. He
just does it in a different way now, and that’s okay. He is still Louis.
__________
“How do I look?” Harry asks, placing his black panama hat on the top of
his head, long curls falling on his shoulders. He gazes at Luke from under
his flat brim of his hat as he watches Luke button his shirt, leaving the top
four undone, similar to Harry’s. However, Harry is leaving more than half
undone, his chest and stomach tattoos on display for anyone to see. He is
nervous about his outfit. He has never worn anything like it before, and
Louis hasn’t seen it yet. He feels confident in it though, like how he felt at
prom. It is different, but in the best possible way. He is stepping out of his
comfort zone, and he loves it.
“You look great. Lou is gonna love it. Stop worrying, H,” Luke assures,
looking in the mirror, adjusting his shirt. It looks exactly as it did before,
but Harry doesn’t say anything. He just smiles, coming up beside Luke to
fix his collar. They are in Harry and Louis’ room while Louis is getting
ready with Ashton in the room he shares with Luke across the hall. They all
moved in together last week, deciding it was time to give the house back to
Robin and Anne. Louis had similar reasoning, Jay and Dan needing the
extra space for the arrival of their twins. Anne and Jay were tearful when
they moved out, but ultimately happy for them.
It was a big decision, one that Harry and Louis had discussed for months
prior. They had approached Ashton and Luke about it one day, wanting
their opinion. Once they started talking, they decided to just all move in
together. They are inseparable anyway, Niall and Liam also hanging out
with them more often than not. It just made sense because Niall and Liam
share an apartment nearby, having decided to move out of their parent’s
house after their freshman year of college. Before, they spent a lot of time
at Niall and Liam’s apartment, not wanting to disturb their parents with
their antics, but since they moved in, their friends have been over at their
apartment, since it’s nicer and more spacious.
Now that they have officially moved in, Harry thinks it was an excellent
decision. They even have an extra bedroom where they practice as a band.
Harry sings, and plays rhythm during most songs. Ashton plays drums
while Niall is on lead guitar. They are looking for a bass player, but Harry
has convinced both Louis and Luke to sing with them on more than one
occasion. Both men have amazing singing voices even though Louis never
does believe him.
They all usually write together, not surprised to find that Ashton as a
writing style similar to his own, slightly dark and full of metaphors. Louis
and Luke are both great writers, but they tend to just lay it all out on the
page, saying exactly what they mean. Niall is usually somewhere in the
middle, so together, they write great songs. Well at least Harry thinks so, if
only he could convince Louis and Luke to sing more. They still can’t decide
on a name for their band. Harry wants One Direction while Ashton seems to
be set on Five Seconds of Summer, for whatever reason. Louis told them to
meet in the middle and go with One Second of Summer, but Harry and
Ashton were less than amused. Right now, they are calling it Catch Fire, but
they will probably change it again soon.
“Ready to head out? Jay will fucking murder us if we’re late. We don’t want
to piss off a hormonal pregnant woman on her wedding day,” Luke says
with a laugh, and Harry seconds that. Since Mark has been in prison, Jay
has really found herself again. She is hilarious and sassy, a lot like Louis.
Harry now understands where Louis got his personality from. He probably
developed it when he was young, before Mark ever came into the picture.
Harry is so fucking proud of Louis for going and visiting Mark the day
before. It was hard sitting there and listening to the shit Mark was spewing
without intervening. He knew that Louis needed to do it on his own, and he
just wanted to be there for support, therefore he stayed silent. Louis
squeezed his hand so hard he worried for the bones, but he made it through.
A tear was brought to Harry’s eye when Louis stood up for him in front of
his tormentor. He didn’t really expect it, but the pride that filled his chest
then was almost more than he could handle. Louis was on the edge of a
panic attack when they got back to the car, but Harry was able to talk him
down. After doing so, Harry drove them to their next destination, so that
they could finish running all the errands Jay sent them to do. Louis
eventually became distracted, his smile returning as they got lunch together,
sharing food and talking about the arrival of yet another set of twins.
“Yeah… as long as you don’t think I look like a douche,” Harry responds,
running his hand down the silky black and white scarf to smooth out the
material. He has been trying to step out of his comfort zone when it comes
to his style. He has always been somewhat attracted to other types of
clothes, but black t-shirts and skinny jeans were just always so familiar to
him. He didn’t think he could ever wear anything else, but that’s the thing
about healing. It forces someone to see themselves in different ways, so
now he does try to wear things that he likes and not just things that are
familiar. Prom night was the first time, and since then he has done it more
often, mostly for special occasions. This is no different.
“If you looked like a douche, I wouldn’t set foot out in public with you. You
know that, now come on,” Luke says with a smile, getting behind Harry and
pushing him closer to the door. Harry goes, the muffled thud of his black,
shiny boots echoing across the carpet with each step, Luke’s sure hands
pressing against the back of his fitted jacket. He feels nervous all of the
sudden knowing that Louis will see him in a few short moments. He can’t
help but notice that it is the same sort of anticipation he felt the night of
prom. It is the feeling that his is about to jump out of his own skin but in the
best kind of way, moths in his stomach to match the one tattooed on it. Most
people think its a butterfly, but Harry says it’s a moth.
Harry stops dead in his tracks when he opens the door, Luke’s previous
momentum causing his taller frame to bump into Harry with a quiet
‘harumph’. Harry swallows, taking in the soft lines of Louis torso, his blue
jacket buttoned to accentuate his tiny waist. He has a light pink flower
pinned to the breast pocket of the jacket, giving the look a soft touch. Harry
allows his gaze to travel down, licking his suddenly dry lips as he traces the
contours of Louis’ shapely lower body with his eyes. He knows his ass is
going to look fucking fantastic in those pants, and he can’t fucking wait to
see it. He almost wishes Louis would spin for him. Finally he makes his
way up to Louis’ face, the prettiest smile Harry has ever seen donning it. He
shaved for the occasion, his skin smooth and perfect. His longish brown
hair is styled in a quiff, making him appear taller, a few stray strands
hanging over his forehead. Harry has the sudden urge to run his fingers
through it, messing up the perfect creation.
“Harry, please stop eye fucking Louis long enough to allow my boyfriend
through the damn doorway so that I can eye fuck him as well,” comes
Ashton’s voice, snapping Harry out of his fantasy of missing the wedding
completely to bend Louis over the closest available surface. Harry shakes
his head, begging his cock to not get any harder or everyone will see. It’s
not like everyone present hasn’t seen it, to be honest. They have all walked
in on each other in one compromising position or another. They may as well
have some sort of orgy at this point. Harry blushes, stepping the rest of the
way through the threshold to allow Luke to move past him.
“Like what you see?” Louis asks, turning to shake his ass at Harry, and
Harry almost chokes. He doesn’t know why. He has seen Louis in a million
different ways over the past three years. He has seen him happy, joking,
sad, panicking, and worst of all, breaking. Sometimes it hard to remember
the day Louis broke in front of him, his soul shattering into a million and
three tiny fragmented pieces that Harry had to help him rebuild. That person
is so different than the man standing in front of him now, shaking his ass,
the tinkle of laughter floating throughout the room. He didn’t know if he
would ever see Louis smile again, not without the pain and suffering he
went through visible behind his eyes, but he was wrong. Louis is so fucking
strong it amazes Harry sometimes.
“Always,” Harry responds, coming up from behind Louis to cup his ass.
Louis squeaks in surprise, then melts into Harry’s body. Harry was right.
Louis’ ass in these pants is like the second coming of Christ. Unbelievable
and indescribable. There is a key difference, though. Louis' ass is real.
Harry knows this for a fact; he has been inside it more times than he can
even bother to count. Christ, however, well, there isn’t any archaeological
evidence that Jesus ever actually existed. Harry mouths at Louis’ exposed
neck, the smell of tobacco and citrus overpowering all of his senses.
“You don’t look so bad yourself.” Louis’ voice is high and needy, as he
turns his body to face Harry. He touches the brim of Harry’s hat with small
delicate fingers before he lowers his hand, smoothing it over the material of
Harry’s scarf. He uses two fingers to slide along the lapel of the suit jacket,
the zipping sound his skin makes on the rough material rushing to Harry’s
ears. It shouldn’t be erotic, but it is. Everything Louis does is sexy to him,
and he still doesn’t understand what he did to deserve the privilege of
calling Louis his own.
“Yeah?” Harry asks, looking down at his exposed chest just as Louis’ places
the palm of his hand on it, right over his heart. Louis looks up at him
through his insanely long eyelashes, and Harry kind of wants to trace the
intricate patterns that the light filtering through them makes freckled
cheeks. Louis nods, raising up on his tiptoes to kiss Harry’s lips. It’s soft
and gentle, but Harry’s cock is hardening just the same. He hears someone
clearing his throat, looking over to find Ashton in a black button down shirt,
arm wrapped around Luke’s waist.
“I don’t think getting your dick sucked by your boyfriend is worth the wrath
of a very angry, pregnant woman, and if we don’t leave right this second
then that is exactly what we will get. So stop the grinding and eye fucking
and the… well whatever erotic terminology you would label this as,”
Ashton says, gesturing wildly at the two of them with his hands before he
continues, “so we can get this show on the road. If Jay comes for our heads,
I am hiding behind you two.”
“He’s right. Mom will murder us if we are late,” Louis says, with a sigh.
Harry laughs at Ashton’s dramatics, looking over to find Luke rolling his
eyes for the very same reason. They both have very dramatic boyfriends, it
seems, and Harry wouldn’t have it any other way. He knows Ashton
wouldn’t either. He is so far gone for Luke, he is a hypocrite for even
mentioning Louis and Harry’s eye fucking. Harry smiles down at Louis,
tracing the soft pink flower pinned to his suit jacket with a steady finger. He
really does look amazing, and Harry is so preoccupied with just look at him
that he is surprised when Louis thrust something into his eyeline. “Here are
your sunglasses, it’s gonna be bright a fuck out there.”
“Thanks babe,” Harry responds, taking the metal framed aviators from
Louis' grasp. Louis smiles at him, slipping a similar pair on his face. Harry
pouts when they cover the crinkles by his eyes. Louis grabs his hand,
intertwining their fingers together to pull him out of the apartment, Ashton
and Luke following suit, shutting and locking the door behind them. The
drive to the outdoor venue is full of animated conversation about anything
and everything, typical for the four boys occupying the vehicle. The drive is
quick, the sun bright as they step onto the grass, Louis’ name immediately
being shouted by Lottie, waving him towards them.
“Gotta go. Duty calls,” Louis says, smiling at Harry and kissing him. When
Lottie screams again about Louis being late, and Jay wanting his head on a
stick, Louis rolls his eyes with a smirk. “Pray for me.” Harry laughs, but his
response is cut off by another kiss. Before he can even open his mouth to
make some smartass remark about prayer, that Louis was just begging for,
Louis is already halfway to Lottie, her platinum blond hair almost glowing
in the light of the sun. Harry waves at her, then turns to the sound of another
familiar voice.
“About fuckin’ time. Jay kept askin’ us where you were; she’s madder than
a wet hen,” Niall proclaims, Liam standing beside him, nodding along.
Niall and Liam are both dressed in nice suits even though Louis told them
they could come casual. Harry knew he would have to dress nicely because
Jay would insist he join in for some of the pictures of the wedding party. It’s
only fair; Louis is in several photos taken the day of Anne and Robin’s
wedding. He smiles at the memory, Anne and Robin knew something was
going on between them before he had ever really even told them. They just
figured it out, and they didn’t care. It was freeing. Things are a lot better
between him and Anne now. They communicate and make a point to spend
time together as a family.
“Well we are here now,” Harry assures with a laugh, clapping Niall on the
shoulder. He looks at his watch, noting that the ceremony will be starting
soon. They all talk as they slowly begin walking towards the white chairs
situated in rows on the grass. He waves at Willow and Tara who are already
seated, talking to some of Dan’s family. He sits down, jogging his leg with
nerves while Ashton clearly tries to distract him with conversation. He is
just anxious for Louis. When Jay asked Louis to walk her down the aisle,
Louis was hesitant at first. After talking to Harry about his fears of falling
or ruining her day with some sort of panic attack, Louis accepted with
Harry’s assurance that he would be fine. Panic attacks don’t happen for
either of them that often anymore, but they still suffer from their trauma.
Harry sits to attention when the music begins playing, signaling for the
bride’s maids to start their journey. Lottie and Fizzy look so grown up in
their long, white gowns, their hair pulled away from their face and hanging
down in spirals. They really have grown up right in front of his eyes. Long
gone are the girls who were awkwardly shy around him, arguing with Mark
just to cut their hair. They have really grown into themselves, and Harry
couldn’t be prouder. He tries to see them at least once a week, sometimes
getting together just to let them braid his hair, if Louis doesn’t want to, or
paint his nails. He paints theirs as well, sometimes even getting Louis
involved. Ashton and Luke happily offer theirs as practice, too.
Harry smiles at Phoebe and Daisy as they walk down the aisle, their pretty
white dresses matching perfectly. They are both holding their baskets,
throwing white flower petals down as they walk. Daisy gives Harry a small
wave, her grin wide. He can’t believe how tall they’ve gotten, how much
they’ve changed. They are so smart, always asking Harry the most random
questions that promote thinking on a deep and critical level. Just last week,
they asked what happens after we die. Harry and Louis exchanged hesitant
looks then went onto explain what different people in different religions
believe. That led to more questions, some Harry and Louis had answers to.
It ended up being a great discussion and very reminiscent of the
conversations that brought Harry and Louis together.
When the first few keys of the Bridal March begins playing, everyone in the
crowd gets to their feet. Harry’s breath catches in his chest when he sees
Jay, looking beautiful in her white dress, bump barely visible. She is
smiling happily, her eyes locked with Dan’s as she walks down the aisle to
him. Louis is by her side, her arm threaded through his, wearing an
identical smile, his blue eyes shining suspiciously. He looks great, and
Harry has the sudden fantasy of their own wedding filtering through his
mind. Of course they have talked about it, however, it is something they
have decided to wait on. They both want to be finished with college before
they get married.
Louis will still have to attend Medical School after he is finished, but they
could at least get married before then. Maybe start a family after Louis is a
licenced psychiatrist. Harry was very pleased when Louis told him he
wanted to specialize in psychiatry. He had a feeling that Louis would want
to help people like him. Young adults who either went to straight camp or
had parents who were abusive towards them about their sexuality. Harry
was so fucking proud, especially since the decision came after Louis had
spoken against the administration at Reclaiming Rainbows during the very
public trial. That trial set Louis back a bit, his nightmares returning once he
had to face Adam and Dr. Thompson again, but they got through it, along
with the help of his therapist.
The ceremony is quick and lovely. Harry is surprised that there was no
mention of God, very similar to Anne and Robin’s wedding. Religion has
hurt their families so much, but Dan is somewhat religious. He and Liam
attend the same church, but he never forces Jay or any of the girls to go. Jay
will occasionally join him because that church is very accepting of all
people, saying that the Bible and the teachings of Jesus should be used as a
guide to be a good person, but not interpreted literally. Louis refused to go
because he and Harry simply don’t believe in that stuff. They are allowing
the girls to make their own decisions about religion, and Harry loves that.
“You look so beautiful, Jay,” Harry compliments, hugging Jay and kissing
her on the cheek as he says the words. She squeezes him tight, her bump
pressing into his own stomach. He can’t wait to meet the little ones. He was
there when they announced it to the family, Jay saying that he and Ashton
are just as much a part of the family as Louis and any of his sisters. Harry
was touched to be a part of that moment, and he has been excited to meet
the babies ever since. Harry has found that he loves kids. He loves teaching
them things, and he has already volunteered his and Louis’ time to babysit,
much to Louis’ dismay.
“Thank you, Harry. You look handsome yourself,” Jay responds, holding
him at arm's length to gaze at his outfit. She smiles at him, and she looks so
fucking happy. So different than how she looked when he first met her, in
an abusive relationship with a horrible man. It amazes Harry how much
people can change both physically and emotionally when the poison is
finally cut out of their life, like a tumor growing on their heart. It’s like she
started breathing again when Mark was arrested, even though she was
worried for Louis. Now she isn’t worried as much about Louis, and she is
just breathing. No restraints, and it is lovely to witness.
Harry’s cheeks hurt from smiling too much as he takes picture after picture
after picture. He never complains. Jay even insisted on Ashton and Luke
getting in several, then taking a few couple shots of them as well as Tara
and Willow. She even roped Liam and Niall in, saying they weren’t allowed
to say no to a pregnant lady on her wedding day. They obviously couldn’t
object to that, so there they were, all standing in a line, arms slung over
shoulders and around the waist, smiling as the photographer takes shot after
shot, from different angles. When the photos have turned into the boys
grabbing each other’s junk and giggling, Jay decides that it is time to move
everyone to the reception area.
Harry’s eyes find Louis’ ass as he sways his hips suggestively while he
walks, talking to Liam about his date, Sophia. Liam had met her at church a
few months ago and just now worked up the courage to ask her to be his
date to the wedding. Harry likes her. She hardly batted and eye the first time
Louis and Harry had kissed in front of her. She is also friends with Willow
and Tara, so she definitely can’t be homophobic, which is always a concern
for them in the south. Niall came with Julia. They have been on again and
off again for the past two years, but Niall swears they are going to stay
together this time. Harry hopes they do stay together, but with their history,
he isn’t convinced. He likes Julia. She’s always been nice to him.
“Do you know what's unfair?” Harry asks conversationally, coming to a

stop beside Louis as Jay introduces him to some random lady as Louis’
boyfriend. Harry smiles charmingly, shaking her hand and thanks her when
she compliments him on his ‘lovely hair’. If someone would have told him
two years ago that Jay would be introducing him to Louis’ family as his
boyfriend, he would have called that person a fucking liar, but here they are.
Louis looks at Harry curiously, as he gets introduced to yet another person.
Harry drops his voice, eyes raking over Louis’ body once more as he
responds, “You waltzing around in those pants that make your already
magnificent ass look extra scrumptious, and I can’t do a damn thing about
it.” Louis stiffens as Harry greets someone else, this person hugging him
and kissing him on the cheek. His body automatically stiffening at the
stranger’s touch, but Louis runs his hand down his back, a comforting
gesture, instantly relaxing Harry. Next thing he feels is Louis' hand
threading under his jacket to rest around his waist, as if claiming him.
“That does sound like a very difficult situation. Completely and utterly
unfair. Outrageous really,” Louis whispers, pasting on a fake smile and
laughing at someone's horrible joke about how tall Louis has gotten since
the last time they had seen him. Harry catches Louis rolling his eyes as soon
as they look away, and smiles. Louis pulls him close, raising up on his
tiptoes to murmur in Harry’s ear, so that no one else can hear. “We could
always sneak off for a little bit. Equality and all that.” Louis’ smirk is filthy,
and Harry’s cock is automatically hard.
Harry looks around, noticing that Jay is distracted by someone’s brother’s

cousin’s aunt twice removed. Harry has lost track at this point, but it doesn’t
matter because he could kiss that person for distracting her. He takes Louis’
hand, glancing around once more. They are at the park, so he knows the
area like the back of his hand. Louis does too at this point, having spent
many a night looking up at the stars with Harry, talking about anything and
everything. Nobody is watching, except maybe Ashton, but he doesn’t
count anymore, as Harry leads Louis to an opening in the woods, easily
slipping through. They don’t have much time until Jay sends someone to
look for them, most likely Niall or Ashton, so they need to make this quick.
When they get to a small opening that looks far too familiar, Harry stops
Louis in his tracks. His cock is already hard in anticipation, the woods
automaticallly making his mind think of sex for some reason. He bends
down, capturing Louis’ lips in a heated kiss, Louis opening his mouth to
accept Harry’s tongue right away. He slowly slips Louis’ jacket down his
arms, carefully laying it over a fallen tree, not wanting it to get too dirty.
They are going to be lucky if someone doesn’t notice at this point, but
Harry can’t wait until they get home tonight. He wants Louis now, and
Louis doesn’t seem to be in the mood to protest, as he moans into Harry’s
mouth, using two nimble fingers to remove Harry’s suit jacket as well,
throwing it over his own.
“Harry,” Louis whimpers, as Harry begins pulling up Louis’ white shirt,

running his hands over the bare expanse of his chest. Louis kisses him back,
helping Harry remove the item completely, but making no moves to undress
Harry further. He wouldn’t have much to do with Harry’s shirt since it is
already mostly unbuttoned. Harry can’t stop his ringed fingers from running
through Louis’ perfect hair, messing it up a bit. Louis’ mouth has found
Harry’s neck, darkening the bruises that already litter his skin. The sounds
of Harry’s moans mingle with the noise of the river near by as their chests
rub together with each breath they take.
“Fuck, Lou,” Harry curses, turning the smaller man around, the smacking
sound of Louis’ mouth, as it detaches from Harry’s neck with a wet pop,
echoing off the trees that surround them. Harry grinds his hard cock
between Louis' cheeks as he wraps his arms around Louis’ small waist, his
hands landing on Louis’ belt buckle. He bites Louis’ neck, the vibrations of
Louis’ moans tickling his tongue as he begins to unbuckle the belt, easily
undoing the pants shortly after, the items, along with his underwear falling
to the forest floor. There has always been something so erotic to Harry
about Louis being almost completely naked while Harry is fully clothed.
“Please Harry. Fuck. Please. Open me up. Fuck me,” Louis begs, his voice
already high pitched and needy. Harry traces down Louis’ spine, placing
both hands at the dimples that seem to point to his ass, almost like a prize.
He puts pressure there, a silent gesture for Louis to bend over. Louis does
so quickly, placing both hands on the tree trunk standing directly in front of
him. Harry groans, his whole body responding to the sight in front of him.
He reaches in his pocket, quickly locating the packet of lube he had stuffed
in there earlier just in case this type of situation were to arise.
“No need to be bossy, love,” Harry says, opening the packet with his teeth
and applying a liberal amount onto his fingers. He traces Louis’ hole
without giving him any type of warning, smiling when Louis jumps in
surprise. He quickly relaxes though, wiggling his ass every time Harry’s
deft finger moves over his hole, trying to get him to push past his rim.
Harry teases him though, only giving him what he wants after Louis is
reduced to a pile of shaking limbs and jumbled ‘pleases’ and ‘Harrys’.
“Don’t touch,” Harry orders when Louis begins stroking his own cock.
Louis removes his hand immediately, placing it back on the tree trunk in
front of him. Harry smiles, pushing a single finger past the tight ring of
muscle as a reward, watching his black nail disappears inside of him. Louis’
fist hits the tree with his pleasure, high moans mixing with the sound of the
river nearby, the birds chirping almost like back up singers to the main act.
Louis’ smooth tanned back is speckled with yellow light as it filters through
the trees tops above, painting a green hue on the rest of his skin.
“Good boy,” Harry praises, barely recognizing his own voice, deeper than
any bear growl that the forest has ever seen. He quickly adds a second
fingers, scissoring them the silever of his rings pulling at Louis’ hole
making them both moan. Soon, he has worked his way up to three, fucking
Louis on them hard and fast but avoiding his spot, his own cock getting
impossibly hard with each new moan, whimper, and curse Louis releases.
His nails are digging into the bark of the tree, as Harry kisses Louis’ back,
continuing his relentless pace. When Louis starts moaning ‘I’m ready’ over
and over again, pitch nearing the levels of a scream, Harry slowly removes
his fingers.
___________
Louis watches with hooded eyes as Harry unbuckles his belt with one hand,
the button popping audibly shortly after. It’s sexy watching his big hands
work, only able to use the one since the other is currently sticky with lube.
Harry doesn’t even take his pants off. He just reaches into his underwear,
pulling his hard dick out, his lubed hand wrapped around it, hissing out a
breath at the contact. Louis can see the tip, glittering with precome in the
sunlight of the warm spring day, and he moans, wanting nothing more than
to have that bead of come inside of him.
“Fuck me, Harry. Please. Just fuck me. Need it. Need you,” Louis rambles,
his mind only able to focus on one thing at the current moment in time,
Harry’s dick inside of him. Harry lightly smacks Louis’ ass, the sound of it
mingling with the songs of birds all around them. He did it in warning,
telling Louis to stop talking. Louis bites his lip, looking back to find Harry’s
eyes narrowed, studying him. Louis grips the tree, needing something to
keep him tethered to Earth because he feels he is soaring. When Harry
places his non-lubed hand on Louis’ ass cheek, that does it. Harry is his
anchor.
Louis can barely see Harry’s dark eyes, hidden in the shadow the rim of his
hat is creating. Louis loves Harry’s chosen outfit, pride filling his chest
from the first moment he saw him. He looks lovely in the silk blouse, the
scarf still around his neck even without the jacket on. Harry is so confident
now, so different than the boy Louis met almost three years ago, and Louis
can’t stop the pride that has threatened to break through his ribcage and
flood the forest floor. Louis loses his train of thought completely when
Harry begins slowly feeding his dick into Louis. It burns a bit, but feels
incredible as arousal licks his limbs, coming to pool behind his navel.
“So tight, Lou. Fuck. You’re so tight,” Harry moans once Louis can feel the
harsh material of Harry’s pants, the zipper biting into his ass in the best
possible way. Louis’ neglected dick is so hard, hanging hot and heavy
between his legs. He can feel his heartbeat inside of it, or maybe it’s
Harry’s. He doesn't fucking know at this point. All he knows is that it aches
with it, and all he wants to do is touch it. Harry told him not to though, so
for now, he concentrates on his breathing, biting his lip in order to keep
from begging Harry to fucking move.
“Please,” Louis whispers brokenly, his attempt not to speak obviously null
and void at this point. He can’t not speak when Harry still isn’t fucking
moving. He looks back to find that Harry has taken off his hat, dark caramel
streaked curls now free and blowing in the slight breeze that has found its
way among the trees. Louis watches with hooded eyes as Harry slowly
lowers his ringed hands, pressing his thumbs into the dimples at the base of
Louis’ spine, fanning his long fingers out to grip Louis’ hips, securing him
so he can’t move. His rings are hot, branding Louis’ skin and all Louis can
do is moan, the need to touch his dick almost overwhelming. He just needs
some kind of stimulation.
“Love fucking you in the woods,” Harry murmurers, and Louis bites his lip
so hard he tastes blood to keep himself from responding with ‘well then
actually fuck me’. If he were to say that, Harry would just continue to edge
him, and Louis doesn’t think he can physically wait much longer. His balls
already ache. He can’t take much more of this, so he drops his hand from
the tree, the bark scratching his skin with the action. He doesn’t even bother
wiping off the remnants of the tree from his hand as he brings it to his
aching dick. He moans when he comes into contact with it, but Harry’s
hands grip his hips hard.
“I told you not to touch.” Harry’s voice is dark and dangerous, sounding as
if it was rubbed against the rough bark of the tree before it finally made its
way out of Harry’s sinful mouth. It takes everything in Louis to stop his
hand from stroking himself. Instead he drops it, but the urge to continue
what he was doing is too much. He widens his legs to help keep his balance,
feeling Harry adjust behind him. He then slowly lifts his arms, situating his
wrists behind his back, right above where Harry’s hands are currently
gripping his hips.
Louis looks back at Harry to find his dark gaze fixated on Louis’ wrists.
Harry slowly removes one of his hands from Louis’ hips and grabs the end
of his scarf, the material making a zipping noise as he pulls it from around
his neck, and Louis can’t fucking breath. “Do you remember your safe
word?” Harry asks, and Louis nods. They’ve had this discussion several
times, the first being when Louis broached the subject of being tied up.
Harry was, of course, hesitant because of Louis’ history at the camp, and
how they made him sleep with his hands bound to a bed. Louis was quick to
reassure him that this is very different, and that the intent is different. He
trusts Harry, so Harry eventually agreed, with the stipulation of an
established safeword between them.
“Yes. I remember it,” Louis answers when he realizes that Harry intends to
do nothing without Louis’ verbal confirmation. Louis closes his eyes,
concentrating on his breathing and keeping himself balanced when he first
feels the silk around his wrists. It is soft and smooth, somehow cool against
his overheated skin. Harry ties the scarf tight, looping it around his wrists
much like the rope tattoo etched into his skin there. He still hasn’t moved,
and Louis wants to fucking cry. How Harry got to a point where he is this
patient during sex is beyond Louis because Louis just wants to be fucked.
“Now you can’t touch yourself at all,” Harry says, and Louis feels Harry
slip two fingers between the material and his wrists, checking how tight it
is. He seems happy with it, because the next thing Louis knows, Harry has
one hand on his hip, and other gripping the scarf as he begins to move.
Fucking finally. The scarf bites into his wrists as Harry holds on to it, his
movements quick and unforgiving, but it is everything Louis needs. Louis is
thankful for the hold because it allows his body to go limp, Harry holding
most of his weight up now as he fucks into him.
“God. Harry. Fuck. Oh my Gods,” Louis rambles, unsure of what he is

saying at this point because Harry’s dick his hitting his prostate with each
unrelenting thrust. He probably would have come already if he had friction
on his dick, but he doesn’t. Not unless Harry has some sort of mercy on his
damned soul and begins stroking him. Louis can pray. Maybe he will, but
only to Harry. Always to Harry. Harry is the only person that has ever
answered his prayers. Harry is the God in Louis’ book.
“Feels so good. Shit, Lou,” Harry mummers, his fingers digging into Louis
skin. Louis will for sure have bruises on his hips after this, but he doesn’t
care. It turns him on even more. Being marked by Harry may be one of his
most favorite things in the world. He hated watching them fade at the camp,
now they never have to. Harry will always be there to make more, not to
mention the permanent marks they have tattooed into their skin, forever
linking them. The compass and the ship are his favorite, but he thinks Harry
loves the anchor and rope most.
“Love the way you fuck me, Harry. Gods. Feels like you’re splitting me
open. Shit.” Louis’ voice is high and whiny, the sound mingling with the
noise of the river nearby, the chirping birds taking over what’s left of the
space around them. His whole body is twitching now as Harry slams into
him over and over again, using the scarf to push and pull Louis’ body in an
unrelenting rhythm of pleasure. Louis has no control anymore. He’s
helpless, so he just closes his eyes and gives into the sensation of Harry all
around him.
“Look so good. Should always be fucked among the trees. Jesus, Lou.
Fuck,” Harry says, voice deeper than the river flowing near them. Louis’
body is hot, a fire that only Harry can produce licking at his skin. Louis lost
his fear of those flames long ago, along with his faith, abandoned in an old
church. They are fireproof. Not even Hell could separate them because such
a place would have to exist first. He isn’t scared of the flames of Hell
anymore; they couldn’t possibly be hotter than the flames Harry uses to set
him on fire. They caught fire. Together.
“Harry. Fuck. Harry. ‘M close. So fucking close. Jesus fucking Christ. Keep
doing that. Fuck. Oh my gods,” Louis babbles, barely able to form
sentences because all of the blood in his body is currently residing in his
hard, aching shaft. Harry won’t touch him, though. No, he is just
continuously pounding him, Louis’ spot being battered with each
movement of his sure hips. Nobody fucks him like Harry does. He doesn't
want anyone else. Barely remembers anyone before Harry because they
didn’t matter. The only person that Louis will ever want is Harry.
“Gonna come untouched, baby? Fuck. Just gonna come from my dick?”
Harry asks, and all Louis can do is nod, his hands balled into fists, nails
digging into the meat at the base of his thumbs, as he continues to spiral
closer and closer to the edge. The material cutting into Louis’ skin
somehow both anchors him to Earth and launches him further into the
Heavens where he still hasn’t found a God. Louis has only ever found true
religion in Harry, and what they do. He worships and prays to Harry, now,
and he returns the favor. It’s balanced. It’s perfect. It’s real.
“I can’t. Fuck. Please. Harry. Fuck. Can’t come. Need. Touch. Need. You,”
Louis begs, tears springing to his eyes from the overwhelming sensation of
his dick aching, his balls tight, as Harry pounds into him, deep and hard,
hitting his prostate dead on with every thrust of his skilled hips. He has
come untouched before, but it usually requires a lot of stimulation from
Harry. More tears prickle his eyes in frustration because he’s so close. He
thinks he is practically screaming now, begging Harry touch him in
someway. He just needs his release. Fuck.
He looks back at Harry, finally. He is still fully clothed, his exposed chest
now glistening with sweat as he fucks into Louis, his pace ruthless and
unwavering. He looks like a God, the sun outlining Harry’s head like a halo,
as he blocks it. Gods have halos, right? The moon seems to have eclipsed
the sun, and even though Louis may go blind, he refuses to look away. How
could he possibly remove his gaze from something so brilliant and
extraordinary. Only Louis gets to see this, and he will never take that fact
for granted again. He only wants to look at Harry when he comes.
“Want my hand? Do you need it? Do you need to feel me wrapped around
that pretty cock of yours? Wish it was my mouth, do ya? Fuck. I’d love to
taste ya. Maybe you would wanna taste yourself. Hmm?” The southern
drawl in Harry’s voice is thicker with his arousal, sending a chill up Louis’
spine. Louis secretly loves it when Harry doesn’t mask his accent for him.
There is just something incredibly sexy about Harry’s deep voice with a
slight twang that drives Louis crazy with desire. Louis starts nodding, but
Harry still isn’t giving him what he wants. His voice. He needs to use his
voice.
“Yes. Please. Hand. Need it. Fuck. Need your hand. Shit,” Louis rambles,
sentences short, coming out with each sharp huff of his breath. He hisses
when Harry’s big hand wraps around the scarf currently keeping his wrists
bound behind his back. Before he knows it, Harry’s his pulling him up-right
with his hold. Louis’ hiss is the same pitch as the river rolling near them,
but he barely registers it because Harry’s hand is now on his dick, his
strokes matching the pace of his still thrusting hips. Holy fuck. Louis is
going to die. He can’t handle this. It’s too much, yet not enough. Harry’s
hand is quick and sure as he bites the juncture of Louis’ neck and his
shoulder, marking him
“Don’t stop. Harry, please. Right there. God, don’t stop,” Louis begs, the
silky fabric of Harry’s shirt feeling somehow scratchy against the over
sensitive skin of Louis’ arms that are still tied behind his back. It’s
uncomfortable but completely perfect. Just enough pain to make Louis feel.
Holy fuck. Louis is so close. He looks down, watching Harry’s big hand fly
over his dick expertly. His left hand is now lightly pressing on Louis’
throat, and Louis knows the cross tattoo probably looks lovely in the
sunlight bathing the world around them. Holy fuck. He remembers why
Harry said he wanted to get it. Louis moans, getting off to that thought
alone.
“Want my come? You better come for me, and I’ll fill you up. Fuck. Come
on, love. Come on my cock. Wanna fill you up,” Harry rumbles, his lips
pressing against Louis ear, and that sends Louis over the edge, his mind
soaring straight into the Heavens as lightning bolts of electricity courses
through his system, ribbon after ribbon of his come signaling his release.
Harry catches most of it, but some drops manage to make it to the ground,
missing his pants by mere inches. Harry’s hand has tightened a bit, not
enough to cut off his air flow, but enough to make Louis feel dizzy, high,
his head among the clouds with his God behind him.
“Gonna taste you,” Harry murmurs sending a shiver down Louis’ spine, and
Louis blinks, not quite understanding since his head is still dizzy from his
recent orgasm. Harry then slowly brings his come coated hand up. Instead
of putting it in his own mouth, he leads it to Louis’, smearing it around his
lips first. Louis understands right away, opening his mouth, allowing Harry
to slip three come soaked fingers between his lips. He moans, lapping up
his own taste on Harry’s thick fingers, the metallic taste of the rings
contrasting with the salty taste of his release.
Harry pulls his fingers from Louis’ mouth with a slick pop, and Louis
doesn’t swallow as much as he desperately wants to. His face goes easily
when Harry uses his hand to push it to the side, capturing his lips in a
heated kiss, the come that was there now transferring to Harry’s lips, like
lipstick made of sex. Harry’s tongue delves in, licking Louis’ come out of
his mouth, swallowing around it. Louis moans, his spent dick twitching in
interest somehow, even though he wants to cry from over-stimulation.
“Taste so fuckin’ good. Gonna come, Lou. Fuck. Do you like your own
taste? Shit. Close.”
“I love it. Love the taste. Tastes so good. Want more,” Louis says, moaning
when Harry brings his hand back up, allowing Louis to lick more of the off
white substance from his fingers. “Taste it.” Harry wastes no time taking
Louis’ command, his lips back on Louis’ before he even pronounces the
third ‘t’. They both moan when Harry’s tongue dives in again, licking every
crevice of Louis’ mouth to taste his come. Holy fuck. The kiss is sloppy,
spit all over Louis’ face, mixing with the come that was already there, as
Harry continues to devour him like the last fucking supper. Harry grunts a
moment later, his dick pulsing inside Louis, and Louis can almost feel the
hot come branding his insides, claiming him.
They both breathe heavily as they come down from their orgasms, Harry
pulling out despite Louis’ whimper. He pushes Louis a bit, his arms no
longer straining against Harry which provides some relief to his now aching
limbs. He unties him next, turning Louis to bring his hands back in front of
him while Harry rubs and kisses his wrists where red marks have formed
from the scarf. Louis rolls his wrists, stretching his arms, trying to relieve
some of the soreness in his muscles. His jacket will cover the marks, thank
the gods. He does not need his mother to notice them then put two and two
together since they’ve been gone so long. She will fucking murder him if
she finds out he and Harry sneaked off to fuck, even though she probably
knows them well enough by now.
“We should head back,” Harry says, as if reading Louis’ mind. He kisses
him softly on the lips, then bends to pull up Louis’ pants and underwear.
“Sorry, you’re gonna be sticky. We never carry condoms anymore.” Louis
grimaces when he feels some of Harry’s come leak out of him, but at the
same time, he kind of enjoys the reminder. Louis pulls the scarf from
between Harry’s fingers, looping it around his neck to pull Harry down for
a kiss. It’s sweet, with a touch of heat left over from their recent fucking.
Harry taste so good. Like home.
“Sorry. I’ve always wanted to do that, and no worries about it being sticky.
I’m used to it by now,” Louis whispers with a shrug and a smirk, letting the
scarf fall to Harry’s chest as he turns around, looking for his shirt. He finds
it on top of their jackets where Harry laid them. He pulls the shirt onto his
chest, now feeling chilly from the sweat drying on his skin. He looks down,
pleased to find that nothing has stained the white material. Thank fuck.
Maybe there is a God. He puts on his jacket, handing Harry’s to him as he
buttons his own. Harry threads his own long arms through the holes,
tugging it into place.
“Let me fix that for you,” Harry says, hands coming up to gently right the
flower situated on Louis’ breast pocket. He’s so delicate with it, like he is
with most things, and before Louis knows it, it looks better than before.
Louis’ eyes find Harry’s hat laying on the ground. He picks it up, dusting
the rough fabric off, running his fingers over the brim. A year ago even,
Harry would have never worn something like that, but now, he picked it out
himself. Luke told Louis that Harry was nervous about his outfit after they
had gone shopping together, but Louis wasn’t able to get Luke to tell him
what he was planning to wear. He is glad it was a surprise though because it
is perfect in every way and took Louis’ breath away.
“Perfect,” Louis says, placing the hat on Harry’s head and smiling. Harry
returns it, his dimples carving into his cheeks in the prettiest possible way.
He reaches down, twisting their fingers together as they take the path back
to the park. Well Louis doesn’t think it is an official path, just one created
by locals who love to hunt and fish, or maybe two boys who love to fuck
amongst nature. Louis thinks he is well deserving of the hillbilly card Niall
jokingly presented to him over a year ago. He keeps it in his wallet and
pulls it out anytime Niall deems him ‘highfalutin’, whatever in the fuck that
means. Harry has explained it to him before, but Louis never bothered to
remember.
“‘Bout fuckin’ time you get back from doing the gods know what in the
fucking woods. Your mom’s been looking for you. The boys and I have
been managing to distract her. They just finished their first dance,” Ashton
tells them once Harry and Louis return from the bathroom at the edge of the
venue after washing their hands. Luke is nodding along, chewing on his lip
ring like he does when he is nervous. Luke has always hated lying to any of
their parents, obviously never having to do so before since his own have
always been very accepting. Ashton and Louis have taught him their ways,
even though they rarely have to lie to their parents anymore, or even at all,
but Jay really doesn’t need to know that he and Harry skipped out on her
reception to fuck in the woods.
“Thanks, bro,” Louis says, clapping Ashton on the shoulder in thanks. Niall
and Liam smile at them, knowing eyes glistening in the light. He kisses
Harry on the cheek and drops his arm, gesturing over to his mom, telling
Harry he is going to go see her. Harry nods in response, returning his smile
and turns to Ashton. He doesn’t catch whatever Harry said as he begins
making his way towards his mom who is gesturing him over, a slow song
playing over the speakers. When Louis get to her, he reaches out his hand
and asks, “Can I have this dance.”
“Of course, boo,” she responds, kissing Dan on the cheek and taking Louis’
hand. There is a chorus of ‘awes’ from the assembled group of people, Niall
and Ashton’s being the loudest of course, as Louis leads her to an open
space in the middle of the area laid out for dancing. He is mindful of her
long dress as they begin to sway, his hand resting high on her back. Her
dark hair is pulled back on her head, a pretty peeled headband holding some
of the curls in place. Her dress is much different than the one she chose for
her wedding with Mark all those years ago, and Louis couldn’t be happier
that it wasn’t in a church this time.
“You look beautiful, Mom,” Louis tells her, watching as she smiles and
blushes. She is so happy with Dan, it radiates off her. He is so glad she
found her happiness with a man who would never hurt her or her children.
She is having two more, and Louis couldn’t be more excited to welcome
new siblings into the world. They will be so loved. Harry has already
bought them a ton of outfits, cleaning out a drawer for them in their room
for when they babysit. Louis just smiles fondly, not able to stop himself
from imagining what Harry will be like when they prepare for their own
family.
“Harry is a hit with the family. They keep talking about how charming and
sweet he is,” Jay says, nodding to where Harry is still standing, chatting
with Ashton, Phoebe now in his arms as she rests her head on his shoulder.
She looks sleepy as he gently sways them to the sound of the soft music
playing through the speakers. She is getting too big to be held, but Harry
would never deny her. Louis smiles, finding the picture far too adorable, his
heart almost stopping from the onslaught of emotions.
“I’m gonna marry him someday, Mom,” Louis admits, Harry now leaving
his line of vision. Jay’s blue eyes are studying Louis' features, a small smile
playing on her lips at his words. It’s not like his mom is surprised. They are
very much over the moon for one another, having landed among the stars
long ago. He can’t imagine his life without Harry. The other boy has
somehow found a place in his mind, managing to stay rooted there even
during the chaos the camp caused. Harry has been the one unwavering
presence there, keeping him sane at times.
“I know, boo. I would expect nothing else. He is already very much a part
of our family,” she says, smiling to where he knows Harry is standing,
behind his back. She looks fond, and he wonders what Harry is doing. Her
eyes find his again, her small hand gripping his as if what she is about to
say is important. “I’m so proud of you, Lou. I know that I have been busy
lately with the wedding and the girls and the new babies arriving soon, but I
don’t want you to forget how incredibly proud I am to be your mom. You
and Harry have been through so much, and you are so strong. Everyday I
am so thankful that he brought you back to me, and it’s funny, because
Anne says the same thing about you. That you brought Harry back to her.
You did that for each other. You make each other stronger. I’m so happy
you found him.”
“Me too. Did you know that our first interaction together was when he
flipped me off for staring at him in class?” Louis asks, chuckling. His
mom’s eyes look suspiciously wet as she shakes her head. Louis continues,
his mind easily recalling the memory of that fateful day, “I mean, who
could blame me. He was the most beautiful person I had ever seen in my
life, and he was just so different than anyone else I have ever met. I could
just tell that he was someone special, so I stared. Sue me. He didn’t like
that, so he flipped me off.”
“How did you respond?” Jay asks, laughing when Louis shrugs
nonchalantly with his story. She sniffles, and Louis can tell she is holding
back tears. Perhaps not the best time to be reminiscing with his hormonal
mother, but she asked the question. He realizes he has never really told her
the whole story. She just knows the bits that she has caught over the years,
alongside the story he had told her in the beginning, when he had skipped
over a few very major details of his and Harry’s relationship.
“I, of course, returned the favor, flipping him off with both hands,” Louis
answers with a shit eating grin. She laughs, and hits his arm, however a tear
falls down her cheek. She pats it dry with a tissue. “Then afterwards, I
started sitting behind him in all of our classes, bugging him. After weeks, I
was finally able to get him to open up at a bit about his family and home
life. We talked a lot about religion, and eventually, one thing lead to
another. I kissed him before the homecoming game ‘cause he was
screaming at me. I don’t regret it.”
“How could he not fall in love with my boy?” She asks, pinching his cheek.
He pulls away from her, rolling his eyes with a smile. She’s still sniffling
from his story, and he makes a mental note for he and Harry to sit her and
Anne down to tell them the whole thing. Maybe leave out the sexy details,
but he realizes that they probably don’t know, and they deserve to. The gods
know he and Harry have put them through enough over the years. He is just
glad that Harry has a relationship with Anne now, a stark contrast to what it
was when he first met him.
“Can I cut in?” Dan asks, and Louis stops swaying, finding Dan beside him.
Louis smiles and nods. He kisses his mom on the cheek, and steps away
from her, placing her hand in Dan’s. She blows him a kiss, mouthing ‘I love
you, boobear’ before she begins dancing with her new husband. Louis turns
around to find Harry but, instead, is met with the most adorable, heart-
stopping sight Louis has ever seen in his life. Harry is dancing with Phoebe
and Daisy in a makeshift circle, both girls holding onto his waist as if they
don’t want to let go. He doesn't blame them. Louis never intends to let go of
Harry. Their blue eyes are closed as Harry leads them. He is smiling down
at them, singing whatever song is playing. It sounds like the end, so Louis
doesn't feel bad for interrupting them.
“May I have the next dance with Hazzy?” Louis asks bending at the knees
to ask both girls, whose eyes pop open at the sound of his voice. They look
sleepy, which isn’t shocking. They are older now, but it’s been a long day
for them. They have been up since the ass crack of dawn. He wouldn’t be
surprised if they were asleep within the hour. They nod in unison, kissing
Louis on either cheek then blowing a kiss to Harry. He watches with a small
smile as they hold hands, skipping off. Louis stands up, grinning at Harry
with his arms open, the beginning lyrics of a new song starting to play.
If I could find assurance

To leave you behind
I know my better half would fade
And all my doubts
Is a staircase for you
Opened out of this base
The first step is the one you believe in
The second one might be profound
“Of course, love,” Harry responds, eyes twinkling even though they are
mostly hidden by the hat. Louis wastes no time wrapping his arms around
Harry’s neck, pressing their chests together, pink rose be damned. Harry
begins swaying then, but neither of them lead. It’s lazy and perfect,
reminding Louis of one New Year’s Eve, the first night that they slow
danced together in Harry’s bedroom. He held Harry just as close then, and
he remembers very clearly the nervous anticipation of what he thought the
night may bring.
I'll follow you down to the eye of the storm

Don't worry I'll keep you warm
I'll follow you down
While we are passing through space
I don't care if we fall from grace
“I just realized, talking to my mom, that we never told them how we got
together. I just told her the story of how you flipped me off during our first
meeting,” Louis laughs, feeling it when Harry’s own laugh rumbles from
deep within his chest, ending on the side of Louis’ face. “Then I told her
about how I returned it, then started bugging you during class. How we
started talking about religion, and just becoming friends then finally kissing
you under the stairwell.”
You can have the money and the world

The angels and the pearls
Even trade my heart for color blue
Just like the tower we never built
And the shadow of all the guilt
When the other hand was pointing at you
Yet the first step is the one you believe in
“Did I ever tell you that me and Niall were just arguing about you before
that?” Harry asks, and Louis’ can’t stop his brows from reaching his
hairline. He shakes his head, and Harry giggles again. “Yeah. He basically
called me a dumbass for avoiding you, and not talking to you because he
thought you felt the same way. Told me to get off my high horse and speak
to you because I obviously cared about you and was lying to myself. He
was right.”
The second one might be profound

I'll follow you down while we are passing through space
I'll follow you down to where forever lies
Without a doubt I'm on your side
“I knew I always loved Niall,” Louis says, rolling the new information
around in his head. If Harry had ever told him that before, he forgot about
it. It has been a few years, but now he really needs to give Niall a kiss on
the cheek. Niall is such a fucking good friend. Speaking of, he looks
around, finding the blond dancing with Julia, his jacket laying over the back
of a nearby chair. She’s laughing at something he says, as he spins her far
too fast for the song. She goes along, and Louis is pretty sure she would go
with him wherever he may lead them. She’s perfect for him, really, and
Louis hopes they can work it out. Next, his eyes land on Jay, who is still
dancing with Dan, looking at him as if he hung the stars.
There is nowhere else I'd rather be

I'm not about to compromise
Give you up to say goodbye
I've got you through the deep
I'll keep you close to me
“I want to marry you someday, Harry,” Louis tells him as he rests his head
on Harry’s shoulder. He feels Harry stop moving for a split second, so he
glances up at him, finding a huge smile on his face before he resumes,
gently swaying to the beat of the song. Louis drops his head to Harry’s
broad shoulder again, lulled by the sound of Harry’s breathing. He has
always loved to listen to Harry breathe. It’s his most favorite pastime since
Harry is his most favorite person in all the worlds.

While we are passing through space
“Yeah? I’d like that.” Louis looks up again at the sound of Harry’s voice,
finding his green eyes, the color of the trees they just fucked amongst.
Harry leans down to kiss him, his breath hot on Louis’ lips before he seals
them together. It’s soft and sweet, much like Harry, once Louis was able to
break through the hard shell he had built around his heart. Like Louis’
tower of faith, the walls around Harry’s heart had also crumbled slowly.
Louis is incredibly proud of Harry. They both left something behind in that
church that day. Louis left his faith, while Harry left his bracelets. The same
bracelets that symbolized Harry hiding himself from the world. He showed
his heart to Louis, and Louis knew from that moment on, how special it
was. How fragile and breathtaking. “I love you, my Sun,” Harry murmurs
against his lips, once he barely breaks the kiss.
I'll follow you

If I could find assurance
To leave you behind
I know my better would fade
“Every sun needs something to equal it, to compliment it. If the world only
had sun, then everything would die. We also need darkness. We need
shadows and hope. We need the dark as much as we need the light. If I’m
your sun, then you are my moon. You guide me through the dark. You are
mesmerizing and mysterious, but most of all, breathtaking. I love you so
much, it takes my breath away,” Louis responds easily, kissing Harry again,
then propping his chin on Harry’s shoulder, as they continue to sway to the
synced beats of their hearts, no longer broken. They beat strong now
because they have a purpose. They beat for each other. They beat for life
and love.
Louis looks around, finding everyone dancing to the music surrounding

them. Liam is with Sophia, holding her in a way that their growing
relationship reflects: awkward and unsure. Liam is clearly trying not to step
on her toes while she seems to think it’s endearing. Near them, Tara and
Willow are dancing together, almost floating above the ground, their feet
bare as they sway, a familiarity there that comes from years of being
together, a stark contrast to Liam and Sophia. Daisy and Phoebe are dancing
with each other, next to Robin and Anne, who look just as in love as they
did on their own wedding day, a little over two years ago. Ashton and Luke
are even dancing, Ashton’s head resting on Luke’s shoulder as the taller boy
whispers in his ear. There is a small smile on Ashton’s face, that Louis only
sees when he is around Luke. It’s what he and Harry have deemed as
Ashton’s ‘Luke Face’.
Louis takes a deep breath, his heart aching with how lovely and free the
scene is. It is a moment of acceptance. Of fighting demons and coming out
the winner. It is beautiful and painful, but above all else, it is real. Every
single one of these people have been broken and hurt, some more than
others, but they have found a way to stitch themselves back together using
the splintered bone as a needle and remaining flesh as the thread. They
persevered through it all. Sometimes things that are rebuilt come out
stronger than they were before, like a phoenix rising from its ashes brighter
and more breathtaking than it was, catching fire once more. Fire is
purifying. It’s cleansing. It’s bright and beautiful. It will destroy, but from
its ashes new life grows. Louis and Harry are proof of that. From the ashes
of their destroyed worlds, they grew.
Chapter End Notes
That's the end folks. One last thank you for coming with me on this
incredible journey. I didn't think I could do it, and almost gave up
along the way. You kept me going, and I am forever grateful. I'm so
very proud of this story which is not a feeling I get very often.
If you enjoyed this piece of my soul, please leave kudos or comments.

If you want more pieces of my soul, feel free to follow me on my
social medias.
Until the next story, my darlings.

Always, L.
Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you
enjoyed their work!

Take Me To Church

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Take Me To Church

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Take me to Church

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No masters or kings when the ritual begins

Do you ever feel out of place?

Like somehow you just don't belong

And no one understands you- Simple Plan

Louis sighs as he looks in the mirror, debating about whether or not he

He takes a deep breath, checking out his appearance again. He glances at

“Because it is a good way to make friends, and it is a safe after school

“It’s actually Louis,” he corrects, rolling his eyes. He is so used to people

“Hi. Nice to meet you too,” Louis returns, smiling as well.

“With a boy?” Niall asks with an exaggerated wink.

“Come on, you know I’d protect’cha.”

“Here,” Harry says thrusting his schedule at Niall.

“Awesome. Maybe I won’t be terribly miserable,” Harry says, closing his

“What kid?” Liam asks, confused.

“Because I want to.”

“Umm-- no. You have to believe in a God to believe in Satan. Can’t

“No. Does that bother you?”

“I may take you up on that philosophical conversation later,” Louis says

Kudos and Comments are always welcome!

And you, you can’t compute, you can’t do the math

And you’re, you’re playing god with your remote control

But I already know that there's a flaw in my code and the

The truth is you silently study me

And there are consequences that you cannot see

And you ask yourself how did I unplug

Harry Styles is Louis’ new favorite thing to study. He is way more

“That’s my boy,” Mark smiles, clapping him on the shoulder, almost

“Cheerleader?” Mark asks with a sickening wink.

“Mornin’,” Liam responds, shooting Louis an easy smile.

Louis considers this information. Most of it he already knew from his

“Yeah. Niall is as cool as a cucumber. He’s friends with everyone. Maybe

“No. I don’t want to.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Come on. That doesn’t make a lick of sense. Because why?”

“Seriously?” Niall asks, outraged. Harry just nods in response. “Heavens to

“Whatever. I can’t go anyways. I don’t have the money,” Harry admits,

“Yes. I’m coming.”

“Not by choice,” Harry mutters turning back around. He feels tapping

“You act like you do though.”

“Well, I don’t want to tell you anything.”

Louis: Start with your family.

Harry: Just me and my mom. My older sister went to college, so she

Louis: That’s cool. For me it’s my mom, stepdad, and 4 sisters

“Way to ruin my supper, Li,” Niall answers, sighing dramatically and

“What do you mean?” Seriously, though, why is it so difficult for Harry to

“Harold, didn’t we already establish this is class today? I think you’re

“Yeah. Right.” Harry snorts. “You don’t even know me.”

Louis is shocked by Harry’s honesty. He thinks this is the most he has

Chapter End Notes

Kudos and Comments are always welcome!

I can't understand why they're stinging me

But I'll do what I want, I'll do what I please

I'll do it again till I got what I need- Thrice

Okay. See you then.

Louis is tired and annoyed. He had a grueling football practice that

“Got a moment?” Mark asks by way of greeting, just barging in without

“Just be yourself, H. You’ll be fine. You’re smart, and you can be

“Well--um-- I’m seventeen and a senior, so I go to school full time

“No, Sir,” Harry answers, searching Mac’s expression for disappointment.

“Good. This next question is very important,” Mac says, a serious

“Oh-- um-- Mac’s Music,” Harry supplies awkwardly pointing in the