Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You know I'm such a fool for you
You got me wrapped around your finger

Linger, The Cranberries (1993)—

This chapter contains mention of abortion.

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The car ride is eminently silent. If he were to speak, he doesn't know what he would say. What could you say after watching your 'friend' kill somebody? In cold blood, with no remorse on his face or even disgust towards something so violent. Clyde's death was exceptionally worse than Connie. Connie suffered a simple gun wound to her chest, died the instant the bullet went through her heart. However, Clyde got his face smashed in by a lamp. Harry wanted to ask Louis what he did after he left, how they're supposed to get away with this. This is more complex than Connie, Clyde was practically mutilated. The police don't take that lightly.

Another thing that kept nagging him was what Louis must have thought when he got into the bedroom. Harry was blatantly struggling, he said he didn't want it many times; but what if Louis doesn't believe him? Or worse, what if Louis thinks he's deficient? A frail idiot who can't defend himself. There were so many thoughts racing in his head but the one thought that kept blinking like a warning alarm was the fact that Louis killed someone.

Harry shifts his gaze to the driver, whose knuckles pale from how hard he's gripping the steering wheel. Unease settles in Harry, noticing how blasé his expression was, how glacial his eyes looked. It only made the silence more disturbing. Not a single word was spoken, not a single noise was made⎼ Louis didn't even look at him.

The gravel crunches beneath the tires as Louis' car approaches his house. The lights are still off, hopefully meaning his parents haven't woken up. He doesn't know how long he's been gone, it doesn't feel like that much time has passed. But the car ride definitely felt like hours. Even as he sits still, staring at his home like it'll somehow vanish if he averts his gaze, they don't speak a word.

A beat passes before he finally unbuckles his seat belt. He reaches for the door handle, moving to push it open when it suddenly locks. He stills, cautiously peering over at Louis. The silence is deafening, save the chirp of the crickets outside. "Don't tell anyone." Louis eventually says.

Harry pulls a face. "I know."

Louis stares at him for a moment, an expression that he can't decipher before the door unlocks. Harry swallows the knot in his throat and looks away, finally pushing the door open. He quietly shuts it behind himself and walks at a leisurely pace, nearing his house.

He wonders if they've found Clyde's body yet.

∞

Harry sits at the breakfast table the next morning, his head throbbing with a minor migraine. Anne works swiftly in the kitchen, fixing them plates of English breakfast. The dishes clatter and the television, along with the radio, which tolls through the house, accentuating their morning. Across from him, his father reads the newspaper, his oval glasses perched on his nose. Harry shuts his eyes sleepily, his elbow propped on the table and his head resting on his hand. His mother would typically scold him for having his arms on the table, but he's too tired to care, and a shocking news break grabs everyone's attention.

"Oh my god." Anne utters.

Harry opens his eyes at that and curiously gazes at the TV.

"Last night, a seventeen year old boy was found killed in his Amity Hills home. The boy was identified as Clyde Alder, a prestigious student at Cedar Point Academy. His family was one of the many dedicated donors of the school. Investigators are looking into Mr. Alder's murder and suspect that it was related to Connie Hollister's death. They're not yet certain of a motive, but it's advised that the students of Cedar Point keep a cautious mind and if they notice any suspicious activity, call 101. As of today, school divisions will be closed. Back to you, Abby."

Anne shakes her head in disbelief, and Harry knows he's doomed to a rant. "I bet he was killed at a party. Now you understand why I don't let you go to those. These children are going rogue." She mutters as she wipes clean one of the glasses Brigitte lent them. Harry bites the inside of his cheek as he focuses on the smooth table mat. If only she knew what he'd done, how he's involved with both of these murders.

"But it's still sad. I'll be sure to send the Alders something." She says before returning to the kitchen to grab their breakfast.

Harry is quiet for the rest of the morning. Last night continues to be a glaring reminder of what he's become, the image of Clyde's battered face unable to leave his mind. His sixteenth birthday doesn't feel so great anymore, it seems like a distant memory, when it hasn't even arrived yet. In his room, he stares at the list blankly. He imagines what the state of his school will be when they return. With the way everyone was so affected by Connie's death, who knows how they'll be about Clyde. No one will care about his birthday⎼ it's not like they ever did, anyway.

He crumples up the paper and tosses it onto his desk. He won't throw it away, yet, but it's useless right now. He falls onto the bed and his cheek squishes onto his pillow. He's more tranquil than he was previously. In the silence of his room, he closes his eyes and lets sleep wash over him. Maybe if he sleeps it off, he'll be able to forget everything. Just for a moment.

He was wrong. He wakes up from a terror, the dream being the haunting image of a maimed corpse and flowing crimson. As he sits on his bed, shivering and rapidly breathing, he can smell the metallic scent of blood. He feels like he's burning, his clothes clamping onto his skin from how much he's sweating. He gets off of the bed and pulls his shirt over his head, freeing himself from the humidity. When he glances down at his night pants, he sees a large red spot at the front.

His mind works like a circuit and he flees to the bathroom, quickly shoving his pants off. He rids his panties as well and finds an excessive amount of blood on the gusset, leaking through the fabric. He reluctantly brings a finger down to his cunt, lightly touching his hole. When he retracts his hand, he finds more liquid coating his fingers. He doesn't understand why there was blood coming from him, the only reason he could come up with was that he could have torn something. Except, he should have bled earlier if that were the case, not days after intercourse.

Puzzled, he goes downstairs to pull his mom from the living room. Their conversation needed to be absolutely surreptitious from his father. Harry takes her to his bathroom to show her his underwear and ruined pants, speaking lowly, but the panic was evident in his voice. "I don't know what's going on. I'm not hurt, I just woke up and found this."

Anne nods, something indescribable flashing across her face. Harry was afraid that this would be the minute she finally disowns him, where she realizes that he's too much of a freak to be her son. "Go take a shower. I'll take these clothes to the laundry room. I'll be back with a cup of tea, and explain what's happening. Don't worry." She gently instructs.

Harry blinks in shock at how calm she was about the situation. She didn't even appear repulsed, she seemed calm and imperturbable, all for him. He eventually nods compliantly and turns the faucet.

After he's cleaned up with a fresh pair of pajamas and underwear, he sits on his bed and waits for his mother to return. She does, holding a tray containing his cup of tea. She places it down on his dresser and sinks down beside him. She reaches a tender hand to his hair, pushing and combing her fingers through his curls. She clears her throat. "What you are experiencing is menstruation."

"Like women do?" Harry is quick to ask. Anne hesitates to affirm, knowing what her son was thinking. There was no way she could to lie to him, though. She shakes her head in response and Harry reflects a pensive expression, looking down at his clasped hands. "Why did I have to be made like this?" He wonders despondently.

Anne knits her brows. "Don't say that. You were made perfectly."

"If I was made so perfectly, I wouldn't be like this. I'd be a normal boy. I wouldn't have all these stupid complicated body parts." Harry argues, discouragement written all over his face. Anne didn't have anything to say to convince him otherwise, and if she did, it wouldn't have worked. As this was something that's been troubling him since childhood, and she knows that. She's tried her best to raise him lovingly and give him the support he needed; just as the doctor suggested. It was getting harder and harder, interrupted by people's ignorance and the self-loathing he had towards himself.

Empathy dominates Anne's features and she hugs his shoulder, pulling his hip flush against hers. It was an awkward hug, but it allowed him to hide his face in her neck, inhaling the satiating aroma of her fragrance. "As I was saying, you are menstruating. I don't know how long you may bleed, but just know that it's your body preparing for nurturing a fertilized egg."

"So I can have babies?" He croaks. When Anne confirms, his stomach twists in disgust. "Can you leave me alone, please." He requests quietly, removing himself from his arms to be far away as possible. He crowds the headboard of his bed and pulls his knees to his chest, wishing to be alone. Anne frowns at her son's sudden distance. He doesn't want to be touched, yet she can't shake the urge to reach out for him. She always knew this would be a struggle, it seems the older he gets, the more walls arise.

"Baby, don't let this beat you up." She says.

Harry turns his head, refusing to look at her. "Please, leave me alone." He repeats stubbornly.

Anne sighs when he doesn't budge. She rises from his bed and offers him one more glance, to see if he would change his mind, but it was obvious he wouldn't. She leaves without a word, and when he hears the door click shut, he lets out his first sob, warm tears streaming down his cheeks. Why must God agonize him with such a condition? Why is it that he has to be pariah in every situation, whether it be with kids like him or society in general? All he has ever asked his entire life is to be normal. During every birthday wish, after every harsh word uttered to him, endearing his father's detest towards him. Everything he knows has been spewed with hate, it's a surprise he didn't premeditate Connie's death.

Harry places a thumb in his mouth and gently sucks it. It's a terrible habit, but it soothes him when he's distressed. He lets a curl fall in front of his eye, sinking into his mattress and further into sleep. He'd give it another go. Hopefully he doesn't have a nightmare again.

∞

It felt like Connie all over again. It was less intense, as people didn't really worship Clyde the way they did with Hollister. They more so 'tolerated' him, in fear, of course – fearing that he would jeopardize their educational future or assault them. That wasn't even the worst he could do. The school was forcing his death onto them, posting photos of him on the wall and creating an entire fundraiser dedicated to raising money for his funeral, as if they didn't have more than enough money to fund it. Harry's got a hunch that this is only the case because the Alders donated so much.

With his two biggest oppressors gone, he felt like he could breathe a little more. He didn't have to look over his shoulder every second of the day, afraid that one of them would come to tyrannize him. He still got dirty looks, got muttered slurs, but he at least didn't get physically hurt.

And of course, Niall Horan was on his heels yet again. This time, the sixteen year old was rambling about the chaos when Clyde's body was found. Harry wasn't listening completely, worried that his blood would leak through his clothing. Although Anne gave him a pad that she said would absorb it and prevent accidents, he couldn't help but be paranoid. He eventually snapped out of his trance and diverted his gaze to his friend, learning what the one-sided conversation had been about.

"I stayed the night at the party, right. Their couches are really comfortable, by the way. I slept like a bear. So, I was there on the couch, a really deep sleep and then I heard someone scream. It was only me and some guy named John in the living room, so we went upstairs to see what was going on. It was so gross, his face was like mutilated and no one knew who did it," Niall babbles around his food, uncaring of the food that escaped his mouth. Harry tilts his head in interest, as if he wasn't there. "Felt like murder mystery."

"It kind of is." Harry finally says, joining in on the discussion.

Niall nods in agreement. "I just want to know who did it, you know. Not to disrespect the dead or anything, but, I think they might've done us a favor." He mutters, lowering his voice so it was kept between the two. It wasn't like anyone would hear, anyway. The cafeteria was filled, but Niall still took precautions.

Harry shrugs, stirring his spoon around in his tomato soup. "I don't think he had to die like that." He whispers, and it's true. The way Clyde went looked so painful, and Harry still remembers the sounds of his bones, it's horrifying to imagine.

"No one should die like that. And did you hear about how police think it's a school related thing. Like, someone amongst us is some prospective serial killer." Niall mentions.

Harry traps his lower lip beneath his pearly teeth, twiddling his ear nervously. If only Niall knew. He thinks. He finally uses his spoon to scoop some soup, using it as a gesture to end the topic. "Where were you for the rest of the party?" He asks, taking an experimental sip of soup.

"I don't remember a single thing, mate. All I can guess is that I was around. Those drinks were strong."

Harry finds himself agreeing, remembering the vodka he had accidentally drank, and the cup Clyde had given him. It grew his suspicion, it would be meshuga if Clyde took the time to roofie one single drink and memorize which one to hand to Harry. He had to have roofied all of them, meaning he drugged everyone. He was disturbed by this conclusion, and it must have been visible on his face, because Niall started to question. "Why do you look like that? Do you know something?"

Harry shakes his head. "No, but.. I was pretty dazed at the party. And I didn't drink."

Niall's lips form into an 'o', realization washing over him. "That bastard must have drugged us! And then some crazy drunk came in and killed him. Idiot decisions gone wrong." He concludes.

More like a perfectly sober person killed him,

Harry clears his throat, agreeing anyway. Now the topic is officially dropped and he can enjoy his lunch in peace. He eats his sandwich and soup with comfortable silence lingering between the two. He wonders what Niall must be thinking, as his blue eyes focus on nothing in particular, absently chewing on his bread. Harry's thoughts later consume him too and for the first time in a week, he starts to think about Louis. He supposes Tomlinson could be giving him the space he plainly needed, but he also saw Louis in the school yard the other day. The older boy could have been waiting for him, but he still wasn't ready to talk. He isn't afraid of Louis by any means, he just still hasn't processed everything. If he can understand what happened that night, then he will speak to Louis again. But for the time being, he just needed to be alone.

Morning bleeds into noon and the sky drains orange, creating a golden path along the sidewalk Harry and Niall walked on. The sun was no match for the Autumn weather, for the breeze cooled the heated rays. Leaves fell from the trees and marked the ground they strolled, frond crunching beneath the soles of their shoes. Harry shields his eyes from the stubborn sun and listens to what Horan has to say. As he warms up to the blonde, he learns things about him that are the complete opposite of what Harry perceived him as. Niall was actually funny and was particularly fond of his own humor. In ways, he reminded Harry of a golden retriever, similar to those dog columns he reads on the newspaper. Perhaps Niall was the friend he needed all along. He just wishes their friendship didn't have to begin under the circumstances it did. He doesn't think Niall notices it, but he surely does.

Harry swathes his cardigan tighter around his body, trying to absorb as much heat as he could after a rush of wind subsided. They were taking a longer route home to give them more time together.

"So what do you think?" Niall suddenly queries, snapping him out of his trance. Harry parts his lips, having not heard what the older boy had said last. "I'm sorry?" He asks.

Niall chuckles, repeating himself. "I said would you like to go to the diner? The one right up Sudley Road."

"Oh," Harry says. "I don't think so. I eat dinner with my family."

"Alright, maybe another time." Niall responds, surprisingly accepting about the rejection. Harry didn't expect him to flip out, he doesn't see him like the type, but he can never be so sure. He's learned that the hard way, numerous times. "How does your family feel about relationships? You know, the possibility of being with a boy."

Harry's eyebrows raise at the question. He takes a moment to answer, astonished by Niall's curiosity. "My mom says she doesn't mind. And my dad, well, he doesn't take it too lightly." He debriefs, wrapping his arms around his body.

Niall hums. "Yeah. I don't really know my sexuality. I just.. no girl is going to want me. There's rarely any girls at this school that're into this, you know? It's easier to be with a guy, but then you have to protect your feelings because all they want is a wet hole."

"I thought you got surgery?" Harry asks. He recalls very clearly that Niall bragged to everybody in the intersex bathroom about getting genital mutilation, which was very obtuse of him. Niall shifts his gaze to the other side of the alley, avoiding eye contact with the younger boy. The action piques Harry's interest and he frowns, urging the blonde. "Did you not?"

Niall sighs, almost defeatedly. "I'm only going to tell you this because I trust you," he looks down at the ground, appearing ashamed. "I was supposed to get the surgery. I wasn't lying that much, but then I couldn't. Because I got an abortion."

Harry's mouth falls agape. Unsure of what to say, he grabs Niall's bicep instead. The touch is gentle and hopefully assuring, his thumb creating absent patterns on his sleeve. "Oh.. did you really want the surgery?"

"Of course I did," Niall responds. "I wanted it more than anything."

"Why?"

"I didn't want to live like this anymore. Sure, no one knew what I looked like beyond knowing I am intersex. I refused to allow anyone from school know my body... so I started having sex with older guys instead. They didn't mind, nor did they know me, so it was much easier. But I wanted to have a connection, with people my age. The only way to do that would have been to get the surgery, and my parents didn't mind it at all. But then I got pregnant, and to make it worse, the doctors said I couldn't do it anymore because the abortion damaged my uterus."

Harry's features soften and he furrows his brows. "Oh, Niall. But.. shouldn't an abortion be safe? It shouldn't have damaged you that much."

Niall shakes his head, biting his lip. "I didn't go to a professional clinic." Harry gasps at that, his eyes rounding largely. "Niall! You could have been killed, what were you thinking?"

"I couldn't have that baby! I had to do it. I'm sure you won't understand, but there was no way I was going to have that child." Niall laments.

Harry exhales softly, relaxing his arms at his side. It was a lot to hear about what Niall went through, he started to regret believing that Niall was like the others. Who could really blame him, though? "I'm sorry you had to go through that." He says sincerely.

Niall huffs tearily. "It's whatever. What's done is done. For as long as I live here, I'll have to shelter myself from any relationship." He tries to say it like something he proudly accedes to, but his voice betrays him. He sounds so sad, it tugs on Harry's heart strings. He's already an empathetic person, but it hurts more that they relate to each other.

Harry tries to comfort him. "It won't be all that bad. I'm sure there's someone at school that would support you, they probably don't talk a lot."

"Not all of us are lucky to meet someone like your boyfriend." Niall rudely interrupts. Harry doesn't like his tone. He narrows his eyes, a frown of vexation coming across his face. "He's not my boyfriend and everything isn't perfect."

Niall rolls his eyes. "Sure, like he isn't the first person that has respected you."

"That's the bare minimum, Niall. That still doesn't mean everything is perfect." Harry bridles, a dark feeling beginning to spread through his chest. He's getting annoyed by Niall's assumptions, maybe he wasn't so far off on believing the older boy is ignorant.

"Fine, to each our own. But you can't deny that you got on the lucky side, finding a romantic partner outside of school."

Harry scoffs, repeating himself for what felt like the thousandth time. "Nothing about us is romantic." 

He thinks. Niall visibly doesn't believe him, and he decides that's the end of their evening together. He doesn't have the time or energy to deal with thickness. He turns to the fake blonde and smiles thinly. "Whatever, keep thinking that you know everything. Have a good day, Niall."

"Harry." Niall complains, but he doesn't turn back. He agilely walks, continuing in a straight path home.

The house is relatively calm when he comes through the door. The fireplace is on, generating a toasty warmth around the house. Heat hugs him like a blanket, causing him to take off his cardigan and blazer the moment he enters the house. He hangs his backpack on the hook and carries the rest of his items with him, entering the kitchen where his mother was already beginning dinner. She smiles flashily, her hands working hastily, dicing vegetables. "Hi, my darling. How was school."

"Good." He answers wearily, mentally exhausted.

"Did you change as I told you to? Every four hours?" Anne checks. Harry blushes and shakes his head in affirmation, his hands gripping onto the counter to secure himself. Anne hums in satisfaction before putting the knife down. "Someone left something for you." She broaches as she stares at him.

Harry cocks an eyebrow. He didn't know a single person that would leave something for him.

Unless...

"It was a letter. Isn't that adorable? It's like Victorian times when they used to write to each other." Anne muses as she reaches over the counter, where an envelope sits in their basket-full of junk-mail. She hands it to him and he touches it lightly, examining the sleeve. "How do you know it's for me?" He inquires after noticing there were no writings on it.

"It was delivered personally." Anne shortly says, not leaving room for anymore questions. He sighs and quietly thanks her before heading up to his room. Of course, he couldn't help but notice his father sitting in front of the television with a beer in his hand. Desmond rarely drank. A flutter of anxiety brews in his stomach and he tries to swallow it down, focusing on one task at a time. Right now, he needed to figure out who wrote this letter and what was inside of it.

He takes a seat on his bed and rips the envelope open, revealing a folded elegy. He scoots abaft until his back presses against his headboard. He unfolds the paper and his eyes find the first sentence of the letter, addressing his name.

Harry,

       I don't have your number because you never gave it to me. This feels awfully ancient but it'll have to do, I really want to speak to you. I've tried to respect your space, I know you need it after what happened but I can't handle being away from you for so long. Please, if you give me a chance to explain myself; I'm willing to do anything to speak to you again. I know I'm not perfect, I know I've frustrated you more than once, but I'm doing this all for you. It's the same as I told you when we first met, they don't deserve this world. They got what they deserve, but you still haven't. You deserve better and I will always give you that and even more.

It's getting harder and harder to watch you and not touch you or speak. You're something I can't just forget, I need you. You know where to find me, just think about it. Please.

-Louis.

Harry stares at the note. If there was the possibility, he would have burned holes through the paper from how hard he glared at it. His heart clenched more, the further down the letter he got until he read the last word. Louis. He holds his breath — one... two... three seconds more until he releases it, shoulders slouching. Single words stand out to him as he reads it over again, his insides clenching each time he reads a tender expression. He hasn't thought about it in a week, but now, more than anything, he wants to be wrapped in Louis' arms. He wants to feel his warm and sheltered embrace, to inhale his brittle-scented cologne, to touch his rough stubble.

Harry slowly lays down on his bed, clutching the letter in his hand. He holds it like it's the Holy Writ, keeping it caged to his chest. Under his blankets, he contemplates whether seeing Louis would be the best decision. He could move on with his life and forget the killings forever, once the storm of Clyde's death subsides. Or, he could simply see Louis at his desired location. The decision was difficult, there were equal advantages and disadvantages regarding the verdict, but there's one he leans more closely to. He doesn't know if it's because he's yearning for Louis' touch again, or if he's genuinely willing to see the man. But there's a strong urge to go to the gallery. Harry's lids begin to flutter shut and he lets sleep take over him, keeping the letter clutched to his chest.

The next morning, he chooses to skip breakfast. He's sure his mother wouldn't mind, she'll assume he left for school early. Exams were coming up soon, anyway. If she were to question his absence, he'd simply tell her he was studying. He walks a long way to reach the gallery, a million thoughts racing through his head. He wondered how the conversation would go, what Louis would even have to explain to him. And at the simple thought, a shiver ran down his spine as he remembered that dispiteous look in his eyes and the full pupils that nearly took up the entirety of his cerulean irises.

He wasn't even certain if Louis would be there at this time of day, the sun had barely risen. But he hoped that Louis would be there, even as there was an equal part of him that didn't. Approaching the gallery, he notices how there are more artworks embellishing the walls. There's a moth that enlarges the further he enters. His eyes trace the piece in admiration, his lips parting in awe. Detailed sparkles shine on the wings of the insect, twinkling under the filtering sun.

"Do you like it?"

The raspy voice makes the hairs on his neck rise. He swallows down his nerves and turns on his heels, facing the man. His body vibrates in disquietude, sending off signals of alarm. It's not like he's afraid of Louis, he's far from that. However, he's constantly reminded of what Louis had done, and it becomes immensely worse as he stands before the older man. It takes a while for him to find his voice, he utters it so quietly, he's surprised Louis even heard him. "Hi."

"I was scared you wouldn't show up." Louis says, taking tentative steps towards him. He tilts his head, a so-so gesture as he stands stoic with his arms crossed over his chest protectively. Louis moistens his lips with his tongue and for the first time, Harry witnesses him nervous. His lips form like he's going to speak before he stops, which happens a couple of times before he finally gains the courage to talk. "I'm not sorry about killing Clyde. I did it to protect you, I knew nothing would go well the second you told me to stay with my friends. I'm only sorry if I scared you. I'm not usually a violent person. I just... I just saw him on you and you were struggling and I couldn't not do something about it."

Harry slips his lip under his biting teeth, thinking of a response. He appreciated the apology, but he honestly didn't find it necessary. He understood the reason Louis did it, he just didn't believe the execution had to be so violent and blatantly painful. It made him nauseous just from the thought of it. "I know, I didn't mind it. I just couldn't wrap my head around what happened."

Louis accepts his reply and a pending silence sits between them when Louis speaks again. "Who was that guy you were walking with?"

Harry lifts an eyebrow. "You were watching me?"

"I told you in the letter I was. I wanted to make sure you were okay." Louis justifies.

Harry hums in acknowledgement, running his gaze over the art absently. "He's my friend, the one that had answered the door at the party."

"Oh, okay."

"Were you mad about that?" Harry suddenly questions without a thought. He watches the way Louis' eyebrows lift in surprise and he bites the inside of his cheek, as to not say anything else. "No, not particularly." Louis answers dully.

Harry isn't convinced, but he nods anyway. "They shut down school for a bit after the death. They're starting to suspect that a student from school must be doing it. 'Cause the connections." He explains. He doesn't know why he is, it's not like he owes Louis anything. But the silence was becoming overwhelming and they needed something to talk about.

"Really?" Louis asks, disinterest drowning in his voice. Harry sighs, holding a disapproving gaze. "He wasn't nice, but you can't deny that he didn't deserve to go, at least not like that. He was only seventeen." He says. Louis' lips turn downwards, a crease forming in his forehead from how conflicted he looked. Harry braced himself for whatever the boy had to say, but he remained mute, only for a moment.

"You don't deserve how they treat you."

"I'm not the concern right now." Harry counters.

"You're always the concern. You're sweet and gentle– people take advantage of that. I've seen you come back from school with a black eye-"

Harry groans, not wanting to hear about how weak he is. "Louis, don't..."

"No, you need to hear this. If I can't convince you, then I'll just make you hear why you deserve better."

"Okay, Louis. I get it." Harry huffs.

Louis scoffs. "Clearly, you don't."

"Why do you even care so much? I'm not going to be some charity that makes you feel good about yourself when you need it." The other boy retorts, his jaw ticking from how hard he was grimacing. Louis remains blasé, his gaze not leaving Harry for once. It makes him squirm, anticipating the older boy's response. "I don't see you like that, Harry. I see you as someone I care about. What, you think I killed Clyde to make me feel good? I did it for you. Everything I do is for you."

Harry pushes his tongue against his cheek. He remains steady, although he can feel his heart thudding in his chest, taking in every word the older boy said. He's never had someone be benevolent towards him, nor has he ever fancied someone. But he's now aware that there's a first everything with Louis, even a first kill.

Louis abruptly advances forward and he manages to stay still in his spot, waiting for the boy's next moves. "H, I promise, if you keep me, I'll do absolutely anything for you. I'll protect you, I'll keep you company; I'll do whatever you ask."

Harry doesn't know what to say, even more so when Louis kneels in front of him, tightly holding his flaccid hand. His lips fall apart and Louis stares up at him, his eyes pleading. "Say you'll keep me." Harry feels a dull ache in his chest and he squeezes the eldest's thumb. His throat feels like it had closed up, he doesn't know how to respond to Louis' request. He wants to be with Louis just as he does, but hearing him beg for it, it felt unnatural.

He's never had a man - or anyone for that matter - on their knees for him. And no one has ever asked him of anything, either. It stewed an unsettling throb in his stomach, Louis' boring cerulean eyes causing more unease. "Louis..."

"Please."

Harry tugs his bottom lip and flicks his gaze towards the mazarine sky, like God would send him a personal message. Louis grants him the quietude to collect his thoughts, his expectant scrutiny unwavering. Harry eventually looks back down, the two exchanging a meaningful look. "I want to be with you." He voices, unaware of what he had said until he saw the shock across Louis' face. His ears gradually turn red and he scrambles to explain himself, but Louis beats him to it.

"I want to be with you, too."

Harry's lips carve into a tentative smile, his dimples caving into his skin. "So that's it?"

Louis evades his space, bringing a gentle hand to caress the apples of his cheeks. "I said I'd do whatever you ask." He says. Harry becomes redder, if possible, and to avoid any further embarrassment – he clumsily kisses him. Louis falls into a rhythm rather quickly, molding their lips along with their bodies. Harry's so absorbed in the affection that he doesn't realize they're backing up until his knees knock into the steel of Louis' vehicle, sitting snuggly on the hood. Louis crowds his body, slotting himself between Harry's legs. He licks inside his mouth, tongues rubbing against another intimately.

Harry breathes harshly through his nose, his mouth occupied, but even then he finds it hard to breath as his chest rises in irregular patters. His fingers tangle in Louis' hair and he starts to tug on the strands when a particular lick makes him tense and his dick stir. Louis' hands travel from his thighs to his abdomen before he's pushing his hands down Harry's pants and he breaks away, his breath hitching. "No, you can't." He says gravely.

"Why not?" Louis asks curiously, pulling his hands away.

Harry blushes at the thought of having to tell Louis about his new cycle, but there would be no other excuse. His only choice is to tell the truth, although he dreads doing so. He clears his throat as he looks away, avoiding his boyfriend's eyes. "I'm on my period." He mumbles.

"What'd you say?" Harry squints his eyes at the older boy, trying to see if he was tricking him, but Louis appeared genuinely confused and he exhaled loudly, repeating himself. "I'm on my period. I started a menstrual cycle."

Harry stares at him in anticipation, preparing himself to be rejected, but it never came. Louis just ogled at him right back, tongue tracing his lower lip and Harry couldn't help but follow the motion. "I don't mind."

Harry's eyebrows shoot up. "You don't?"

Louis shrugs. "I mean, it's more lubricant."

"But it's blood." The younger boy replies skeptically.

"Yeah, and I don't mind it."

Harry purses his lips. He wasn't bleeding that much, and menstrual sex sounded so foreign. But he liked the idea. So, he spreads his legs as an invitation and Louis grins, successfully sliding his hands down his pants. He strokes his mound above the barrier of his panties, giving him just a taste of what it would feel like before pushing the elastic band aside. Louis' finger glides between his folds, teasing him leisurely. When he penetrates his finger past Harry's lubricated entrance, it eases inside, instantly being engulfed by the tight heat.

Harry makes a high noise in his throat, eyes fluttering closed as Louis diligently moved his finger. It didn't take more than a couple of minutes for Harry's pants to be removed and Louis' cock buried deep inside of him. This time, the sex feels even more erotic, fucking outside of the car. And while he isn't releasing that much blood, the thought of leaving traces of his fluids on Louis excites him. Harry hugs Louis close to him, squeezing the fabric of the older boy's shirt between his fingers as he tries to get him deeper, pushing the back of his heels against Louis' back.

The obscene sound of their skin echoes in the air, resonating through the gallery and flowing through his ears like a precious melody. Harry lets out a guttural moan when Louis presses into his spot, sending shocks through his entirety. He feels Louis' lips lingering on his pale skin, the faint touch of his teeth grazing his jugular. It makes his thighs squeeze together, holding him impossibly tighter.

Louis grunts into his neck before sucking on it, causing and unusual feeling and his pussy to clamp down on the member inside of him, squeezing tighter. The sensation must trigger Louis, because he moans, his hot breath tickling the skin he was previously sucking on. He starts to thrust into him harder, if even possible, punching Harry's prostate.

Warmth spreads in his stomach, the pleasure overwhelming him like a beast trying to crawl out. He moans freely, perfectly shaped lips fallen open as each cunning moan tumbles out his mouth. His heart beats in his chest, so fast that it makes his head throb– and his cunt. Sharp, stubborn nails dig into the flesh of his hips, Louis' pelvis repeatedly slapping into his groin, wetness sticking to his trimmed hairs until every muscle in his body seizes up and he comes.

His hole opens even wider, pearly liquid flowing out and lubricating Louis' penis until it's a slick mess. Louis doesn't stop until he stills, hips pressed onto Harry. He takes a moment to catch his breath, inhaling deeply as he holds Harry's pliant body against his, squeezing his soft cheeks betwixt his fingers. When the aftershocks start to subside, he moves his hips again in languid strokes, milking himself clean.

Harry senses the stickiness inside of him, but he doesn't mind. At least not right now. He just wants to sleep, and he's painfully aware that he has to go to arrive at school in under twenty minutes. Slowly, they gain their breaths and momentum, enough for Louis to pull out of him. He cautiously peers down at Louis' member, relieved to see that there's only bits of bright red, the color washed out from his arousal. However, he's positive it's a mess down where the sun doesn't reach.

His cheeks flush at the thought of that and Louis notices, a sly grin painting his features. "Definitely worth the blood, huh?" He quips.

Harry laughs softly, a shy smile dancing on his lips. "I have to go to school."

"I'll drive you." Louis states. He presses a gentle kiss to the adorable boy's cheek before leaving him there to grab wipes from the glove department. He cleans the inside of his thighs and tummy, wiping down his own dick as well. Harry watches him attentively as he returns to the car and then slides off the car. It feels alien when his feet touch the ground, almost like he forgot how to walk. He ignores the impish look Louis throws him and approaches the door, using the car for support.

∞

"What's that on your neck, honey?" Anne inquires, her eyes glued to the freakishly large blemish that Harry somehow missed. He furrows his eyebrows and glances at the mirror hanging on the wall to get a look for himself. A gasp flies out of his mouth and he quickly closes it. He leans closer to get a better look, although he didn't really need to because it was right there. Unmistakable, impossible to go unnoticed. Niall was a total jerk for just laughing in his face instead of telling him what was the matter. This stupid hickey was the matter! Fuck Louis too for lying to his face, claiming that he looked alright.

He tries to hide a grimace as he turns to face his mother, forcing a smile on his lips. "I got nicked by my jacket." He lies.

Anne lifts an eyebrow. "Why did it reach so high?"

"I was in a hurry. You know how frantic the bells are, and Mrs. Avocet doesn't appreciate us being late." Harry responds, shrugging off his coat and backpack. "Do you need me to help with anything? Supper?" He offers, promptly changing the subject.

Anne carefully observes him, like she doesn't trust his theory – but she lets it go for the time being. She would surely debrief on the matter with her husband when he returns home. For now, she'd worry about dinner, as he suggested. "I do. I'm making stuffed shells."

Harry smiles "That sounds delicious." His response was very biased, as he's loved the meal ever since he was a child. Anne would cook it so frequently, it happened to be around the time Desmond had left for the Vietnam War. She raised her son independently for four years, Desmond was out of Harry's life most of the time, and he still had the nerve to try and decide how it would go. The only fortunate thing to come out of the war was the income they received for his service. The Styles were already wealthy, as Desmond had, ironically enough, owned an infamous tailoring company. The fortune bought them a bigger house, better expenses, and obviously – money. They were right below the Alders when it came to class.

Anne beckons for him to follow her into the kitchen so she can get started, directing him to steam the spinach while she collects the other ingredients into a bowl. Harry spontaneously stirs the spinach in the boiling water, admittedly reminiscing the sensation of Louis between his legs. Unconsciously, he presses his thighs together and bites his bottom lip, eyes trained to the water although he wasn't even aware, lost in his own thoughts. His mother happens to be the one to bring him out of it, touching his shoulder lightly. "H, I want to talk to you about something."

Harry hums in acknowledgment, peering up at her. "I know there's some tension surrounding the school and those tragic deaths. I just want to let you know that I'm here, I'm your mother and it's my duty to protect you. If you ever fear that someone may be after you, you let me know. I may be small, but I know Judo."

Harry snickers at that, his dimples depressing his marshmallow cheeks. His mother humors him so well that he forgets to feel guilty about it, for once. "I'm fine, and everyone at school is practically harmless. I don't think any of them would be capable of killing anyone."

"You never know what anyone's capable of," Anne warns knowledgeably, staring at him with high eyebrows. Harry shakes his head understandingly, his attention returning to the pot. "I'll be careful." He promises.

Anne smiles and presses a kiss to his temple before adding ricotta to the bowl.

The hour is spent with giggles and cordial affection. Anne all but forgets the hickey that's so prominent on his neck and Harry forgets the lustful haze he was in, prior. Harry helps set up the table and Anne fixes their plates. As Harry begins placing the plates in their respectable spots, the front door opens. He doesn't bother to greet his father and watches as his mother hugs him tightly, delighted to see her husband.

Harry sometimes wonders what it would be like to be in love, the way his mother was. Blinded by passion, unable to correct their flaws. He sits in the dining room and waits for his parents to enter. Des seems happier this evening, all charming smiles and gruff voice just a tad softer. Harry doesn't let his hopes up like he did when he was younger, he just accepts that this will be a calmer afternoon.

After grace, they start eating their food, engaging in vivacious conversation. Harry doesn't involve himself in it much, but he responds when his mother speaks to him and either shakes his head positively or negatively whenever his father asks him a question about school or if he has put any thought into college. They do, however, avoid the big elephant in the room. Which is the bruising hickey on his neck.

Harry may or may not choose to ignore it as well.

Somehow the topic changes to Christine, and Anne becomes emotional. Harry takes the opportunity leave, retiring to his room. He changes out of his school uniform and puts it in his hamper to be washed before turning on the shower head. He rinses over his groin a little, hoping to clean it from the mess Louis made earlier. As he soaps himself up, his mind shamelessly drifts to Louis. His thin lips, intimidating eyes and sleazy smile. He may be a little troubled, but his personality makes up for it. He makes Harry forget about the world for a moment, and the only thing that will occupy the young boy's mind will be Louis. Louis, who taints his innocence, who is embedded in his brain and possibly to his heart.

The air conditioning is powerful, freezing his poor bare skin when he steps out of the shower. He changes into new clothes and takes a seat on his bed, carrying his journal with him. It was mostly filled with his birthday planning, but this time he was going to write a new entry. One dedicated to his devotion for Louis. He leans against his headboard, writing down whatever came to mind.

When he hears a knock on his window, he gets excited. He rushes to his window and pulls it open, finding Louis on the ground as he expected. "You didn't tell me you would be visiting."

"I never do." Louis shouts back.

Harry smiles bashfully, so bright that if it were possible, he'd be golden. He urges Louis to come inside, waiting for the older man to climb the tree. Just as he's barely stepped onto the pillars, Harry pulls him in, making them topple softly onto his beanie bag. He huffs out a laugh as their noses touch, breath mingling from the close proximity. Louis seals their lips innocently, licking into the younger boy's mouth. "I missed you." He murmurs against his lips.

Louis pulls away and smiles, licking over his plump bottom lip. "You too."

Harry props himself on his elbows, staring at his friend affectionately. "I wish I could get you some dinner. We had stuffed shells tonight."

"What's so special about stuffed shells?"

Harry grimaces in offense. "It's the best dinner ever, that's what."

Louis chuckles under his breath and removes himself from the boy's arms, simply to snoop around his bedroom. There wasn't much there, he only had dusty CD's and homework. He never had the chance to really express himself and get an item that meant something to him. The closest thing he got to significant would be his CD's, music he bought the first time he was allowed out of the house, alone.

Louis grabs the plastic case and flips through them, pursing his lips in interest. "You've got Donna Summer... Gladys Knight..." He speaks aloud, reading the discs. "Oh, Pink Floyd?"

Harry's cheeks flush. "Yeah." He says softly.

Louis hums and takes the disc out, preparing the CD player. He waits for the music to start playing throughout the room and encroaches on Harry, leaning down to plant kisses all over his face. Harry laughs, tender lips going down his body until it reaches his stomach. Louis pulls his shirt up to reveal the milky skin, nipping it lightly. Harry's back arches at the sting, but he doesn't pull away. He remains eminently still, peering down at Louis as he kisses and suckles his abdomen, littering violet marks all over again.

Louis bites his hip and pulls Harry's pants down, unveiling his rather delicate-looking panties. They were white, with a pink bow at the top. Harry would have gotten embarrassed if it weren't for Louis' obvious attraction to the undergarment. He attentively watches Louis as he spreads his thumbs on the side of his hips, staring at the underwear intensely.

"I won't taste the same as the first time." Harry reminds quietly, playing with his fingers.

A smile dances on Louis' lips and he hooks his thumbs beneath the fabric. "You should already know a little blood isn't going to stop me." He says effectively before capturing Harry's lips in a hungry kiss. Harry follows, struggling to breathe as his heart thumps and his breath it taken away through kiss. His breath hitches when Louis' cold hand touches his stomach, hiking his shirt up. The wandering hand travels down until it reaches his panties once again and removes them. The tension in the room increases, and not even the fan can dwindle the warmth that intensifies the more Louis kisses and touches him.

Louis' finger slides between his folds, teasing his wetting entrance. Like always, he sustains the pace of his kisses, licking inside his velvety mouth. Louis continues to kiss him, even when his jaw goes slack when a finger breaches his hole. "Louis.." He breathes.

"Would you let me fuck you here?"

Harry's cheeks redden and he shudders, his skin crawling in pleasure. "I.. no, my parents." He answers, following his intuition. Louis hums acceptably, rubbing a soft pattern on his thigh. "Would you let me eat you out again?"

Harry bites his lip. "You could do that, yeah." Louis smiles and lowers himself down until he's at the center of the younger boy's spread legs.

It's no secret that he's a fan of having his face there.

Harry lays on Louis' bare chest in exhaustion, tracing mindless shapes along his tattoos. He's still recovering from the aftershocks of his orgasm, his legs trembling every so often when he shifts. He's surprised his parents haven't at least gone up to check on him, but his mother was also grieving her sister, his father could very well be consoling her. And that's probably for the best, he couldn't imagine what his father's reaction would be if he had caught Louis and him. It was a risk enough doing what they did. He couldn't help it, though. Not when Louis' lips and tongue felt so good.

Harry sighs, admiring how handsome the man looks in his bed. His cheekbones appeared especially sharp when he bites his cheek, an addition to his rugged appearance. And there goes his beautiful sunken eyes that seem almost cybernetic when he's aroused, the way his eyes darken make the hairs on the back of Harry's neck rise.

"Can I tell you something, love?" Harry curiously raises his gaze, humming affirmatively. "I sometimes think about leaving this place." Louis mentions, a far away look in his eyes. Harry tilts his head. "You do?"

"It's shitty here. You know, I hear it's more accepting down in Rhode Island."

Harry lifts his head to get a better look at Louis. "What're you getting at?"

Louis sighs and props himself on his elbows, jostling the boy a bit. "I've been thinking about leaving here."

Harry's heart stinks. "You're leaving me?" He asks sadly. He doesn't want to think about being deserted by Louis, left helpless to deal with everything by himself. He's only known Louis for a month, but he's done so much for him. He's left such a huge impact on his life that the thought of losing him forever makes his heart drop.

"No." Louis quickly denies. He sucks his teeth, visibly conflicted. "Well, I still want to leave. But I wouldn't want to leave you. I... I was actually wondering how you'd feel if you left with me."

Harry's eyes widen. "You want me to leave with you?" Louis nods and when he sees the hesitance on his expression, he grabs his hand gently and intertwines their fingers. "You don't have to. But think about it, yeah? You could forget all about this, about everyone who's done you wrong. We could start a new life. Just you and I." He promises, kissing his knuckles.

Harry draws his bottom lip beneath his teeth and his stomach flips. He doesn't know if he's willing to go above and beyond, all the way to Rhode Island. However, imagining a life where he could be free of society's nescience sounds promising. He sighs and relaxes in Louis' arms again, warmth unfurling from where Louis' lips once touched. "I'll think about it."

Louis gives a short-lived smile. "You know where to find me." He says at last before kissing him chastely.

∞

Harry wakes up to an empty bed the next morning. He was expecting it, but it doesn't mean his chest hurts any less. He gets off the bed gingerly, slipping his feet into his house shoes. He raises his arms over his head and stretches as he approaches his closet to grab his uniform. When he closes the closet, he spares a glance at the night bag in the corner. It's not packed, it's the one he used to take when he'd go to summer camp. But seeing the bag strikes a memory of nostalgia, reminding him of what Louis had suggested last night. He didn't impose the subject, but a single phrase keeps chanting in his ear.

'You know where to find me.'

Harry shakes his head and quickly shuts the door. He's not going to find him, because he knows better. What would his mother do if he wasn't there for her? School may be horrible, but she's done nothing to him to deserve to lose her son. She already has a fear of the murders connected to school, he would give her a near heart attack if he ran away. He wouldn't and couldn't do that to her. She's done nothing but love him unconditionally, even when the world tried to convince her otherwise.

He pulls his shirt over his head and heads downstairs for breakfast. As always, Anne stands over the pot on the stove, stirring a new dish. Harry approaches her and plants a kiss on her cheek, smiling softly. "What are you making?"

"Oatmeal," Anne responds. "I saw it on the Betty Crocker cookbook."

Harry laughs. "Why do you love that book so much?"

"It has great recipes. I'm sure one day, when you have a family, you'll be all over this book." She says lightheartedly, but it causes a pang in his chest. Harry bites his lip and tries to not appear effected, taking a seat at the dining table. He notices his father isn't sitting there or in the living room, and he wonders if they got into a fight again. "Where's dad?" He asks.

"Went down to the station to collect some credits." Anne answers. Harry nods as if he understood and starts to twirl the cotton that had escaped the placemat. "Can I tell you something?" When Anne hums for him to continue, he swallows. "I love you. I love you a lot, and forever. You're an amazing mom, the best I could ever ask for."

Although Anne's smiling from ear to ear, she can't help but voice her confusion. "Thank you, I love you too, H. What's going on?" Harry shakes his head in response, glancing up at her. "Nothing, I just wanted to tell you that."

"Are you sure? Is everything alright?" She asks worriedly. Harry smiles, a little sadly. "I'm sure. You needed to hear it."

Anne chuckles lightly and reaches the table to hand him his bowl. "Well, then, I appreciate it. Tell me how you like it." She says, referring to the breakfast. Harry finishes his food and leaves the house to walk his way to school. The weather's warmer then what it was the previous morning, the sun seems to have risen earlier than usual. And for some reason, it's a significant detail to him. As he walks alone, it leaves him to be isolated with his thoughts. Just moments ago, he was positive he wouldn't leave his mother. But everywhere he goes, Louis follows, even if he's not physically with him. The sun alone is reminding him of the man, and when he thinks about it, he knows it will be awfully difficult without him.

It's crazy what a single month can do to someone. Harry holds the straps around his shoulders tighter, enough to drain the color of his knuckles. The school comes into view and he walks up the steps, planning to go straight to his locker and class. "Harry!"

Harry rolls his eyes at the familiar voice, opting to continue his way, but Niall continues to call out to him desperately. He's forced to stop when Niall nearly trips over his body trying to grab him, drawing attention to the pair. Harry roughly pulls his arm away and turns around, glaring at the blonde. "What do you want?"

"I just wanted to apologize to you. Is that too much to ask?" Niall scoffs. Harry folds his arms over his marked chest, narrowing his eyes. "What do you have to apologize about?"

"About yesterday, about how insignificant I was. I'm sorry I tried to speak about you like I knew everything, you were right. I just... it's a tough situation. You know? I'm sure you do, after all, you've been dealing with bullies since what, the seventh grade?"

Harry swallows at the reminder and averts his gaze, Niall's eyes widening in realization. "No, I didn't say that to embarrass you! I'm- I just- I'm sorry," He stammers. Harry looks at him again, acknowledging the genuine regret in his expression. "I'm sorry for the way I spoke to you. I had no right, and you were totally right for how you reacted. I probably would have done the same thing. It's just been so stressful, and the way I'm feeling, that's not how a sixteen year old should be feeling. Right?"

Harry bites his lip and glances around them. The school's just now being filled, but he doesn't want anymore unnecessary attention on them. He grabs Niall's wrist and drags him along with him, despite his protests of confusion. When they reach an empty classroom, he urges the boy inside and shuts the door behind them. "It's really messed up here. And yeah, I know how it is. I think it could've been better if I just had someone understand me."

Niall nods in agreement, pinching his thumb with his forefinger. "I wish I could have been the one to. I was scared. There's so much pressure here, and all I wanted to do was fit in. And you know, I was jealous of you," Harry's eyebrows lift and Niall chuckles. "Yeah, I was. You were the most bullied, but at the same time, you were still yourself. Even when Vincent and Billy would talk about those barrettes you used to wear in your hair, you kept wearing them. I could have never done that, I would've stopped wearing them the second they told me."

A knot swells in Harry's throat and he struggles to ignore it, his gullet spontaneously constricting. It took a lot of will power to not cry that second. It's the first time he's ever heard someone talk about him positively, especially while bringing up the past. He stares at Niall wordlessly, afraid that if he would open his mouth, he'd sob on stop. Niall doesn't wait for him to speak, either. He just takes a moment for himself before continuing. "You have a lot of courage. You're probably the bravest person I've ever met, even if it's not physical. I'm just.. I'm so sorry I never spoke to you sooner. I think, if we could have been friends earlier, a lot of things wouldn't have happened."

Harry presses his lips together in a tight, fine line, his fists balling the material of his pants. Niall slowly begins to take his silence as a bad thing, his blue eyes rounding slightly. "Did I say too much?"

"No." Harry quickly denies. His voice breaks a little, but he wants to ensure the older boy that he appreciates every word he said. "You said enough. I don't even know where to start."

"Maybe my apology?" Niall offers shyly and he laughs. "Yeah, I accept it. I didn't have to react that way, so it's my fault too."

"But I didn't have to act like a know-it-all." Niall counters.

Harry makes a face. "You didn't really. It was an assumption, and I understand where you were coming from." He sighs, believing that's all that he could respond with. "And I'm sorry if it every seemed like I didn't want to be your friend. This... friendship thing is something I'm not used to."

Niall shakes his head. "You don't have to apologize for that. I get it."

Harry smiles minimally and offers his hand. "You want to call it a truce?"

Niall chuckles, but accepts his hand anyway. "It wasn't a battle to begin with."

∞

He walks home with Niall again. He involves himself in their conversations more this time, now that there's no invisible walls. Harry thinks it's nice to have a real friend now, someone to talk to and platonically enjoy their company. But his relationship with Niall starts to make him question the one with Louis. He doesn't think what he has with Louis is a friendship, friends don't touch each other the way they do. Harry slows his steps a little bit when he ponders on it, and Niall notices. "What's wrong?"

Harry glances at him, prepared to dismiss his thoughts like he always does, but he stops. He wonders if Niall would give him good advice if he told him almost everything about his situation with Louis. That's what friends do, after all. He's reluctant at first, but he speaks. "Do friends have sex with each other?"

Niall blinks in astonishment, which slowly melts into realization. "It was you in that car, wasn't it?" He quizzes, a smirk dancing on his lips. Harry blushes and avoids his knowing eyes, wrapping his arms around himself. "Maybe or maybe not. Just answer my question." He pleads, a little desperately.

The blonde purses his lips. "Well, it depends. Some friends arrange to have sex with each other, but typically, no."

Harry furrows his eyebrows incongruously. "We didn't arrange it."

Niall curls his lips in an attempt to not smile, knowing that the situation was somewhat serious. "Well, then I'd say you guys aren't friends."

Harry sighs in frustration. "So what are we?"

"You have to ask him that." Niall retorts. Harry goes silent at that, heavy in his thoughts. He's certain Louis isn't the type to ask him out, and he doesn't know a thing about relationships, or have the balls to ask Louis about it. He sighs when they stop in front of his house and Niall offers a cordial smile. Harry doesn't make a move to walk or say goodbye, so Niall gestures for a hug.

When Harry pulls away, the blonde grins. "I hope you get everything figured out with that guy."

"Thanks." He breathes. The pair exchange a look before Harry starts up the steps to his house. It's awfully silent when he enters, and the sound of brewing coffee is absent. He frowns at that and shuts the door behind himself, reluctantly exceeding inside. The sound of his shoes hitting the floor happens to be tumultuous compared to the eerie stillness. Just when he fears that he's been abandoned, he runs into his father.

"Oh, you scared me." Harry startles, holding a hand over his chest. Desmond doesn't smile, his eyes aren't light, they're rather hard, a nasty glare directed at him. His nostrils flare as he breathes heavily before he finally speaks. "I have worked to the very sweat to provide for this family. I am not working hard to have a bitch son."

"What?" Harry asks, genuinely confused. He had just gotten through the door and Desmond was already calling him names, names that he's certain he doesn't deserve being called. Desmond's expression becomes more choleric, his features hardening. "Don't try to act all innocent. I saw you with that boy, and you have the nerve to be a sodomite right on my porch."

Harry's lips part, dumbstruck by his father's words. "I didn't... he's just a friend." He tries to explain, but Desmond barely lets him speak. "Don't even try that with me. I have tried long and hard to raise you. I knew you were hopeless from the moment you were born with that disease." He rants, and the more he speaks, the more empty Harry feels. "Your mother isn't even trying, and neither are you. Walking around in your panties and prancing with these homosexuals-- I'll have you know that I will not raise a homosexual son. If you want that life, then so be it. But you better think again if you believe that you're staying in this house."

Unwanted tears stream down his face and he doesn't process it until his cheek is burning where Desmond had slapped. "And don't you fucking cry." Harry bites his lip harshly, trying to swallow down his sobs, despite the pain in his throat from doing so. His father remains stoic, staring him down belligerently. He sniffles, walking past the man. Once he reaches the stairs, he runs up them. He pushes through the door and immediately cries, hiccups jumping out of his throat. He has half a mind when he starts stuffing clothes into his bag. He isn't aware of what clothes he's packing, he doesn't bother looking at them.

He's going to miss his mother's arms and sweet words. He'll miss her in general, but this has made him come to terms that Louis was right. The world is a cruel place, where he may never feel safe or accepted—at least not here. And it won't get any better the longer he's here. He wipes his tears furiously as he finishes packing and zips up his bag. Desmond's in the living room when he makes it to the last step, behaving casually, like he hasn't broken Harry's heart into a thousand pieces.

He'll resent his father for as long as he lives.

When Harry enters the gallery, Louis isn't there. He's discouraged at the fact, it daunts the tenacity he once felt; but there's no turning back. He drops his bag on the ground and sits against the wall, drawing his knees up to his chest. He could use some sleep anyway. He cried the entire way, and he still has tears left. His clouded vision fades when he blinks, the tears reforming in an instant. All he hears is his father's venomous voice, that causes shivers to run down his spine.

A strong gust of wind makes him whimper, curling more into himself in an attempt to stay warm. He hides his face behind his knees and closes his eyes, sleep panning over him. His breathing begins to slow, the control he once had in his muscles becomes dead weight, but before he can fall asleep, he hears his name.

He looks up and finds Louis standing above him. The two stare at each other wordlessly, their eyes doing enough talking. Louis exhales, long and soft, a concerned look on his face. "What are you doing here?"

"You told me to come find you." Harry murmurs, his voice muffled behind his pant legs.

"Yeah, if you were going to come with me."

"My bags are right here." He responds.

Louis frowns and tentatively offers his hand. Harry takes it, the older man pulling him up until they're chest to chest. His stomach flutters due to how close they are, he doesn't think he'll ever get used to having Louis near. "Were you crying?"

"It was nothing serious." He mumbles.

Louis' gaze lingers, till it discovers the red that marks his cheek unnaturally. "What happened here?"

Harry quickly covers it. "Nothing."

"Who did that?"

"No one."

"Harry." Louis exhorts and the younger boy sighs. "It's nothing important, Louis. Can we just leave? I don't want to be here anymore."

Louis is silent for a while, cold eyes studying him until they eventually leave and Louis grabs his bag. "Get in the car."

Harry obliges, situating himself on the seat. Louis later enters the car and silently shuts the door, his hands wrapping around the steering wheel. "Are you sure this is what you want?" He inquires. Harry shakes his head affirmatively, antsy under Louis' watchful eyes. "Because I'm not coming back here. Ever." He breathes calmly, albeit his pounding heart, and nods again. "I'm sure."

With that, Louis pulls the car out of park, and accelerates forward. Harry folds his arms and rests his head against the window, slightly dazed after crying for so long. If he were to be honest, he wants nothing more than to be embraced in Louis' arms, to feel that tender sense of warmth and security, but they've only just started driving. He wonders if his parents, or more specifically, his mother will start looking for him. How long it will take for them to worry and if Desmond will even care to know if he's okay. The thought of being forgotten builds a dull pain, but the feeling is forgotten when he remembers how mistreated he was.

After a few moments of silence, Louis reaches forward to mess with the radio.

Oh, I
I want to be with you everywhere

The corner of Harry's lips lift on their own accord as Christine McVie's voice fills the car.

∞

Harry falls asleep and he doesn't know how long it's been. When his eyes first flutter open, he instantly feels the stiffness in his neck. He grumbles incoherently, stretching his arms over his head. He gazes out the window and notices how the sun is just beginning to arise, meaning it was morning. He had slept through the night, and they're still on the road. It couldn't be too late in the morning, as the sky was still purple. He finds it beautiful, and for a minute, he simply admires the sunrise. There's a throbbing soreness in his bum that he can't quite ignore, so he looks at Louis, who's still focused on the road.

"I have to use the bathroom." He says groggily.

Louis glances at him briefly. "Can you wait a minute? We're almost there."

"Where?"

"It's a diner."

Harry hums and curls in his seat, faintly tired. The radio station is now off, leaving them to revel in silence. But he doesn't mind, he enjoys it. He starts to doze off again and he allows sleep to take its course. It wouldn't hurt to get another nap in.

The next time he wakes up, it's to Louis gently shaking his shoulder. He slowly begins to stir, groaning under his breath as he squirms in his seat. "Yes?"

"Don't you have to use the bathroom?"

Harry blinks his eyes open, adjusting to the stubborn sunlight that illumines through the open window. It takes a minute for him to process Louis' words, but he nods when he does, still recovering from sleep. Louis wraps an arm around his waist and helps him out of the car, keeping his hand secure. A storm brews in his stomach once again at the touch, but he tries to keep his composure. He wouldn't want to get too nervous and accidentally pee himself.

After he uses the bathroom, Louis finds them a seat somewhere further in the diner, away from any curious eyes. People don't seem to look much, more focused on their menus or the TV hanging behind the counter. Harry squirms around in his seat to make himself comfortable, starting to tap his fingers on the table apprehensively. "Are you... are you tired?" He asks quietly.

Louis cocks an eyebrow and his cheeks flush. "It's just because... you didn't sleep, did you? Don't you want to sleep?" He tries to explain further, fumbling over his words. He doesn't know why he's so nervous, but Louis looks unusually attractive, in spite of his exhaustion. His eyelids are heavy and darker than usual. It makes Harry start to tingle in unspoken places.

"I'll sleep when we're on the road longer." Louis answers.

Harry nods, unsure of what to say next. Thankfully, he's saved when their waitress approaches their table. She's exceptionally older than them, possibly in her late fifties. She offers a short smile and opens her notepad, clicking her pen. "Hello, what can I get y'all?"

Harry recognizes that her accent is more southern. They must be in Texas. "Oh, I haven't looked at the menu." He trails off, finally acknowledging the card on the table.

"Any drinks?"

Harry turns the menu over to briefly gaze over it before he answers. "I'd like a water, please."

The woman smiles, returning her attention to Louis. "Black coffee." Harry scrunches his nose in disgust and when the waitress walks away, he complains. "You drink your coffee black? You don't think that's bland?"

Louis smiled for the first time this morning. "The taste will keep me awake." He quips, spreading the sheet open. "Go look at what you want." He instructs. Harry grins meekly and opens his menu as well, checking what they have. There aren't many options, and he finds himself frowning when he reads the prices. Fifteen dollars for a measly pancake.

"How much money do we have?" Harry questions, setting the menu down.

Louis shrugs, his attention remains on the sheet. "Don't worry about it."

Harry frowns. "Pancakes are fifteen dollars. Do we have enough?"

"Don't worry about it." Louis repeats. Harry furrows his eyebrows, but he doesn't question any further. He crosses his arms over the table and decides what he'll eat. He steals a glance at Louis once more, immediately being caught. He blushes and focuses back on the menu. The lady returns with their drinks and asks for their order. "I'd like the strawberry vanilla pancakes, please." He tells her.

The waitress nods, looking at Louis. "I want the Eggs Benedict." She jots their order down and bids to the kitchen.

When their food finally arrives, Harry digs into his pancakes eagerly. Louis quietly eats his meal, occasionally checking on the younger boy to ensure that he's enjoying his food. The atmosphere is tense with unspoken words, but Harry isn't sure what to say. He also doesn't know what's making him so restless. Perhaps it's because he's in a foreign town, but even then, he can't shake the unease. After they finish eating, Louis steals a sip of Harry's water, which he doesn't mind. But then Louis stands from the booth and gently grabs his forearm, urging him up. "What about the bill?" He asks.

Louis hushes him and his lips curl down. Louis continues coaxing him towards the door and just as they're reaching the exit, a tall man stops them. "Y'all plan on paying for that or what? Miss Bessie over here says you didn't pay."

"I think she's got us confused for someone else." Louis mutters mindlessly, keeping a firm hold on Harry. The redneck glowers, his brown eyes running over the teenagers before he flicks his gaze to Harry. "Is this man bothering you?"

Harry raises his eyebrows. "I'm fine." He responds, although he's confused. Louis said not to worry about money. But doesn't that mean they have none if they're currently lying about paying? And how are they supposed to get out of this if the authorities are called⎯ he all but gasps when he sees the magazine of a glock peaking from the waistband of Louis' jeans. His lips part in shock and the expression doesn't go unnoticed for the redneck. He grabs Louis' collar, forcing him forward. "What're you hiding, boy?"

Louis isn't affected by the man's attempt at intimidation, simply touching the weapon beneath his shirt. "I don't want to make this any messier than it already is." He says lowly. The owner looks like he wants to say something, but it looks like he doesn't have a weapon to protect himself. He slowly releases Louis and he dusts himself off, raising his eyebrows provocatively. He leaves his hand on the small of Harry's back as he leads him out of the building.

The moment they're in the car, Harry bursts. "What just happened? Why'd you do that? You said that I didn't have to worry about it."

"Because you don't."

"Clearly I do if we have no money!"

"We do. I just didn't want to spend it on food." Louis says, starting the engine. Harry draws his eyebrows together. "Then what are you going to spend it on?"

"I'm not trying to spend our money on the first day. Alright? Besides, we're fine." Louis responds and begins driving down the empty road. Harry crosses his arms over his chest, an action he finds himself doing a lot. Only, this time it's out of frustration. He doesn't understand why Louis is being so difficult about something uncomplicated. "Don't give me that."

Harry gives him a sideways glance. "Give you what?"

"That look." Louis summarily explains, waving his hand in a negligent gesture. Harry furrows his eyebrows. "What look?"

"Like you're upset."

"I am upset." He retorts, becoming more frustrated. Louis looks at him then, at the flagrant tone. Harry rarely gets angry, so it was more than unusual to hear him agitated. Louis slows the car down once they reach a curb on the side of the road and puts it in park. "Why'd you stop-"

"What're you mad about?"

"I'm not mad."

"Harry." Louis warns. 

"I'm not!" Harry exasperates. "I just didn't think you had to do that. You always do."

Louis cocks an eyebrow. "What do you mean I always do?"

Harry sighs, twining his fingers together in his lap. He supposes now is the time he can get what he's been holding in off his chest. "You didn't have to flash your gun. Just like you didn't have to kill Clyde."

"Don't bring Clyde up." Louis grunts. 

"Why?"

"You can talk about whatever you want. But don't talk about that asshole." Harry blinks, perplexed by the sudden change in the older man's attitude. He decides to leave the conversation at that, sitting in silence as Louis starts the car again. He doesn't know if this can be classified as their first fight⎯ but there's a furor⎯ kin to ten-pin weight in his stomach. Whatever it is, he doesn't like it. Or the eldritch silence filling the car. 

A couple of minutes pass and Louis reaches out to twist the nob on the radio. The same song from before plays. Harry doesn't mind it, either. 

∞

Eventually, night comes along and Harry stays awake for it. It allows him to admire how the sun gradually sets and saturates the sky with an orange hue. The clouds begin to dissipate and soon enough, darkness casts over the remainder of light. Wherever they may be, the night is beautiful there. The spheroids twinkle under the moonlight, emitting a beautiful glow. While Harry and Louis didn't do much talking for most of the ride, the nighttime seems to miraculously work wonders. Harry comments on how the same song kept playing on the radio, earning himself a laugh and attractive smile. He couldn't help but also mention how handsome Louis was, which was embarrassing. But Louis didn't see it as that. He even pulled over just to kiss him, and it might've gotten a little hectic when he opened his mouth and allowed Louis' tongue inside. 

They got a bit carried away and Louis fucked him good enough that he ended up falling asleep after. When he woke up, he was beneath a wool blanket. It was also morning, and warmer than Texas had been. The window was rolled down and allowed the humid air to creep into the confined space of the car. They were only a few minutes into Tennessee and Louis decided it was time for a short break so they could eat breakfast.  

It's much easier to dine and dash there. It's so busy that no one notices them leaving, but Louis mentions that they'll need to find some way to disguise themselves until they're far away from home. The couple reside in a motel in Nashville. The clerk doesn't give them any problems, smacking her gum aimlessly. She doesn't even pay attention to their credit information. Louis decides from there that they'll be staying in this motel for a while. 

It's pretty nice there. The hallways are pretty neat and so is the bedroom when he finally sees it. It's small, but it would do. There's a single bed with a small refrigerator in the kitchen-connected living room. He at least knows that they'll be able to store food, if they even get any. He doesn't realize he's been standing in the middle of the room until Louis bypasses him to drop their bags on the floor. Harry ambles towards the bed and leisurely sits down. He patiently waits for Louis to say something, which takes a while because he's putting stuff away. 

"Go take a shower and brush your teeth. I'm pretty sure there's soap already in there." Louis acknowledges. Harry nods understandingly and gets off the bed to do as he was told. The water's warm, thankfully, and the tub is perfectly clean. He stands under the shower jet for a moment, and while he's alone in the bathroom, the realization finally sinks in. 

He ran away from home. He's hours away from home, approximately two states away. And his mother hasn't called, not that she can anyway. But he wants to know if she's at least sad. If she was scared when she didn't find him home, if she was angry with his father for driving him away. He also thinks of Niall. The poor lad, who only just began their friendship and he's fucked off out of nowhere. And oddly enough, he thinks of the Hollisters. It feels weird to, because it's been so long since he has. He just wonders how they're doing and how they were dealing with Connie after two months since her death. That thought really gets him going. Soon after, he's thinking about how she didn't deserve to be shot to death. He hopes it was instant — he thinks it was. He just feels horrible, because he knows, no matter how badly Connie might have treated him, she didn't deserve that. It was supposed to be a prank. To scare her. 

He gets out the shower when the steam becomes too much. He finds a towel hanging around a metal hook and wraps it around his torso, ignoring the water drenched in his curls. He opens the door and turns on the exhaust fan before closing it. Louis is lying on the middle of the bed, his arms behind his head and his eyes closed. Harry mistakes him for being asleep and mindlessly drops his towel, bending over to select pajamas from his bag. He didn't exactly grab any specific ones because he was in such a rush, but he finds a small pair of shorts and a graphic t-shirt and chooses that. 

"I've seen you naked a lot, but this has to be the best sight." 

Blood pools in his cheeks, he can just feel it. He swears, no matter how many times Louis makes remarks like that, he'll never not get flustered. He holds his shirt to his chest and bites his lip. "I'm finished in the bathroom if you wanna..."

"I'll take one when I wake up. Don't worry." Louis waives off. Harry shakes his head affirmatively, awkwardly shifting on his feet. It's intimidating to have Louis' unwavering attention, especially when he's wet and naked. But surprisingly, they don't end up doing anything. He crawls into bed after he's dressed and tucks himself under Louis' arm, getting as close as their bodies will let them. Louis compliments his smell, alleging that he smells like strawberries and cinnamon. Harry scrunches his nose in disagreement. After that, everything goes by a blur and along the way, he falls asleep. 

Stephanie Tanner's making some melodramatic declaration when he wakes up. He shifts in the bed and instantly notices that Louis isn't sleeping beside him. Honestly, he doesn't like waking up with Louis gone. He didn't like it when he lived at home, and he especially doesn't like it now. He slowly sits up in the bed with some difficulty and immediately catches sight of Louis, sitting on the sofa in front of the TV. He warily gets off the bed and approaches the man. He has a laptop on his legs that are propped on the coffee table, his fingers typing furiously along the keyboard. Harry quirks an eyebrow and takes a seat beside him, casually resting his head on his shoulder. 

"What are you doing?" He asks curiously. 

"Making a checking account." Louis mumbles. Harry tilts his head and gazes at the computer screen. In a large font, it shows $5,000. His eyebrows shoot up. He wonders where the hell Louis got that kind of money from. He also understands why they couldn't waste it. If he factors in gas money, daily meals, and anything else they may buy, that money would be gone in at least a month. That leads him to wondering how they'll continue making money. Louis doesn't seem concerned about that factor. He does a lot of things on that checking account that Harry doesn't understand, but he assures Harry that everything will be alright, and somehow, that's convincing enough. 

They spend about three days in Nashville. All of those days, it's mainly just Louis catching up on sleep and Harry trying to convince him to play the card games he found beneath the couch. On their last night, though, Louis finally agrees to play with him, and it's a good time, he supposes. He learns more about Louis and about his mother. He says his mom passed away from cancer just two years ago. He sounds indifferent about it, but Harry knows it must be a way for him to hide the pain. Harry shyly asks him about his mom being intersex and Louis seems happier to answer that question. He says his mom always taught him to treat people equally, no matter what his peers did. Harry also wonders what type she had, but he decides to not get too personal. 

To change the subject, Louis jokingly suggests that they give their motel room a proper goodbye. For a second, Harry doesn't understand what he means, until Louis is closing the distance between them. The kiss is softer than the others, less rushed and more romantic. Harry has half a mind when Louis gently pushes him down onto the bed and hovers above him, taking his time as he licks inside his mouth and bites his bottom lip. And Harry just senses immediately that this kiss is different, that this sex would be different. Because Louis caresses him so gently and sucks at his neck like he has all the time in the world. 

Sex is always amazing with Louis, but this time, it's charitably the best yet. Harry had never felt as secure as he did. The way Louis would hold his hips as if he were delicate, rubbing soft patterns on his skin while he focused on kissing Harry silly. Harry gets terribly aroused when Louis scoots down on the bed and separates his legs. He's done this countless and it still never gets old. And somehow, Louis manages to make that time feel different. It feels special. 

And to him, it almost feels like a promise. 

∞

When they're seven hours on the road, they stop at Roanoke. It's probably one of the prettiest cities Harry has ever seen. Moreover, the people are less intimidating and problematic as Nashville. Despite the hospitality, Louis fucks up. It's when they're at the convenience store buying bottles of water and pads. Harry was embarrassed to ask for the latter, but Louis showed that he didn't care. Still, Harry felt insecure about it. While he was in the feminine care aisle, some man snuck up behind him. He swore he felt a hand on his inner thigh when the man had bent down to grab deodorant, but he didn't acknowledge it. That made Harry feel like he was going crazy, so he quickly went to find Louis. 

Louis questioned his sudden silence but he didn't have the heart to say anything. He knew he would sound stupid if he did. However, the interaction didn't end there. While in the check out lane, the creep returned. He knew because he could smell the heady aroma of marijuana and booze. The scents didn't mesh well together and it made him feel nauseous. Instinctively, he grabbed onto Louis' jacket sleeve and promptly ignored the look of concern he got. 

And he should have known it was a trick. It had been so obvious, but he was so oblivious and stupid. A bag of chips had fallen a few centimeters away from his foot, and he didn't even wonder how it got there. He just went to grab it and ended up groped instead. It was awful already, but to do it in public. The man had no shame, even laughed when Harry abruptly stood up. When he saw the look on Louis' face, he knew the result would be horrible. He also knew there was no way to stop him, even if this man was larger and burlier. 

He took the items out of the cart to get them scanned and tried to ignore the insults Louis was throwing at the man. Knowing the argument was escalating, he politely asked for the cashier to hurry up so they could just leave after Louis does whatever he plans with the assaulter. 

Of course, that just meant assaulting him right back. Harry urged Louis to leave when the man's head started bleeding and people were crowding around. It was drawing attention, and that would soon bite them back in the ass. He knew it and Louis knew it. They unloaded the cart and got inside of the car with Louis driving at an exceptional speed. 

Sooner or later, there would definitely be reports on them. It ruined everything. They were supposed to keep a low profile, and now, Louis' talking about them needing a new car. Harry sighed in disbelief and rested in his head on the window, taking a nap instead of worrying about the future. 

They make it to another city when Louis decides to get another car. It's when they're passing by an Auto Sales with a large poster board with cheap prices. Louis is obviously acting intrusively, but Harry doesn't blame him. They've been on edge ever since they left Roanoke, and they're only a couple of hours away. 

Anyway, Louis makes a good deal with the seller. His car is highly valued, so they get a similar qualitative one in return. They transfer their things into the vehicle and start on the road once again. Harry plans to just fall asleep again, but Louis talks before he can do so. "Are you okay?" A simple question should not make him flush, but he does anyway. He nods jerkily, keeping his gaze trained to the window. 

Louis sighs loudly, keeping a death grip on the steering wheel. "I can't believe that asshole thought he was fucking cute or something. I would've killed him if I got the chance." He mutters. 

Harry frowns and turns to face him. "You can't kill people, Louis. That's wrong."

"He touched you."

"I know what he did. But that's not a reason to kill him. There's no reason to kill anybody." Harry reminds earnestly. Louis blatantly showed his disagreement, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. Harry's seen him angry before, but he believes there's a difference between Louis' anger and irritation. Right now, he's irritated, and he's bottling it in. The hostility is reminding him of the night Clyde was murdered. How his knuckles were paled, albeit the blood stained on them. How his jaw clenched sharply and his eyebrows pulled together in a grimace. 

"I just.... I hate seeing you get hurt." Louis breathes out. He still isn't looking at Harry, he's focused on the road ahead. Still, Harry tentatively reaches out and places a delicate hand on Louis' bicep. At first, he wasn't sure if it would do much. But then Louis smiled at him briefly and he melted inwardly. 

Their final stop is Philadelphia and Louis tells him they'll only stay there for about two days and then the next time they're on the road, they'll be only a few hours away from Rhode Island. Harry's a little excited to hear that. Although he's come to love the car rides, he also misses having some stability. Louis stores their water bottles in the fridge, their only option for dinner is unfortunately instant macaroni and cheese. Harry cooks the meal to the best of his ability, though. 

When he's finished, they sit on the couch. However, the screen is blank. They're sitting comfortably, enjoying the silence as they eat the not so good, but it'll do macaroni. Harry leans into Louis as he picks through the noodles, sparing a sniff at the cheese. "I've got something to tell you." Louis mentions, stabbing his fork into the noodles. 

Harry gazes up at the man. "Hm?"

"We're going to need to find a way to earn money."

"I figured that much." Harry mumbles. 

Louis huffs out a laugh. "Yeah. I've got a way to get money, but I don't know how you'll feel about it." Harry tilts his head. Louis sounds almost nervous about the preposition, which makes him worry about whether it's something bad. But knowing Louis, it probably is. No, it definitely is. When Harry tells him to go on, he breathes out a sigh. "Alright. So, I'm not that good at pickpocketing. But we're going to need money, cash would probably be best. Prostitution is-"

"Are you trying to sell me?!" Harry asks, horrified.

"No" Louis quickly responds. "No. Fuck no. We're going to scam them into thinking that they'll have you, but they won't. It'll be safe, I'll be there the whole time. I just need you to be there, smile a bit, and I'll take the cash."

"But how are you going to steal from them without them noticing?"

"Don't worry about that."

Harry furrows his brows. "Louis." He warns. 

"Look, they're going to be bastards. Deadbeat husbands that cheat on their spouses, and pedophiles. They deserve to die." Louis reasons. 

"I'm starting to think you just like killing people." Louis shrugs, which should be alarming, but Harry doesn't mention it. He just swallows his food, going in for more. But he's still uncertain about the idea. He drops his spoon when he begins to lose his appetite, a frown prominent on his pouty lips. "Can't we just find a job?"

"We're on the run, Harry. We can't just waltz into anywhere."

"So can we even stay in Rhode Island? Wouldn't we have to keep moving? I don't want that." Harry says. Louis narrows his eyes. "What? You want to leave now? I already told you, the moment you got into that car, I'm not going back." 

Harry parts his lips. "I'm not saying that. We could easily get caught if-"

"We're not committing any crimes there."

"We're going to be scamming-"

"They won't know our real identity. We're not going to get caught." Louis responds in a clipped tone. Harry shuts up the moment he hears it. His stomach twists in an unnerving way and he curls into himself, chewing onto his bottom lip. He didn't want to argue, he was genuinely concerned and curious about this whole ordeal. 

Louis's gaze softens as he notices Harry's distress, the lines of his face relaxing as the heat of their argument dissolves. He leans forward, reaching out to gently take Harry's hand. "Hey, I didn't mean to snap. I'm just trying to keep us safe— you safe. Alright? And that just may be the only way for us to get money for a while."

Harry looks down at his hands. "I know... I know, I'm sorry. It just feels weird, you know?" 

"What? Being on the run?" 

Harry bites his lip out of habit, nodding. "Yeah, it does," Louis eventually agrees. "But don't worry about it. We'll get to Rhode Island, lay low, and figure things out one step at a time. Or I guess, I will. I'll worry about the big things, you just sit there and look pretty." Harry blushes at the endearment, his cheeks flushing even more when Louis gently grabs his chin. "Okay?" 

He swallows a lump of spit, shaking his head slowly. "Okay." Louis leans forward to press their lips together chastely, knowing that if they kissed any more passionately, it would've tasted disgusting. The macaroni was bad enough. Harry smiles shyly when they pull away and shoves food in his mouth to avoid any more confrontation. 

They finish their meal in a more peaceful silence, each lost in their own thoughts but comforted by the presence of the other. After cleaning up, they settle under the covers, kissing lazily. Sometimes, Louis would just kiss him and expect nothing more, and Harry liked that. He liked to think that Louis saw him more than just what was between his legs. That Louis cared about him. And he knows Louis has already told him that much, said it like a broken record. But Harry can't help but feel insecure. 

Right now, though, with the flickering images on the screen lighting up their faces in the dim room, and Louis' mouth moving on his until his lips feel practically numb— it's enough. It's enough to be here, just the two of them, safe and together. Louis pulls away after some time and holds him, squeezing his waist tightly. He smiles to himself, his mind exploding with thoughts. Amid the turbulence of their life, he desires Louis in every aspect. 

He just hopes this will last.