these bountiful silences

xxvi. opprobrium

TRIGGER WARNINGS: GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF VIOLENCE, SIMON COWELL BEING THE DICK THAT HE IS, AND A POV SWITCH IN THE MIDDLE OF IT ALL -- IF YOURE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH VIOLENCE THEN I WOULD SKIP THIS ENTIRE CHAPTER AND PM ME FOR A RECAP.

"It's a game of smoke and mirrors, a game that I don't want to play anymore."

xxvi. opprobrium

"I do not hold any sort of emotional attachment to Louis William Tomlinson." Harry says. "I will never form an emotional attachment to Tomlinson."

Simon leans forward in his massive, wing-backed chair, resting his chin on his steepled fingers as his eyebrows furrow at Harry. He tilts his head to the left, and pain automatically blossoms through Harry's wrists from where the tech that is tethering him against the wall tightens on his skin. He clenches his jaw defiantly, not dropping eye contact with Simon all the while. He won't break for him.

"I wish that I could believe you, Mr. Styles," Simon says in such an empty tone that shows that his words hold no truth. "I really do."

A mechanical arm that is white - of course it's white, Harry has began to find irony in the overabundance of this supposedly pure colour - outstretches in front of Harry's face before plunging forward and seeping into the skin that surrounds his left eye, forcing it to stay open unblinkingly. Harry bites his tongue to try and muffle the screech of pain that threatens to rip from his throat as a result. He feels sweat pooling between his collarbones as his chest heaves, but he pays no mind to the tendrils of moisture that are moving at the same agonizing pace that Simon detaches from his desk with.

"You see, I have visual proof that you're lying to me, Harry. You can imagine how displeased I was when I came across the footage myself. We thought that we could have faith in you, we thought that you was actually acting in the best interest for The Movement, not yourself."

The mechanical arm releases a low, whirring noise and the very center of the claw widens in a minuscule but still painful motion before a harsh beam of light is aimed directly at his pupil. He tries to squint away from it but he can't, the claw's position forcing his eyes open no matter how valiantly he tries to fight it. Simon chuckles lowly and Harry hears the sounds of footsteps nearing him just as the nauseating beam shifts into taking the form of a projected image right on his eye.

The quality is fuzzy at first, with shapes that are reminiscent of phosphenes until his eye adjusts to the close proximity of the projection and he can make out a video that takes place in his own flat. Harry's stomach drops as the sounds of his own sobs overtakes his ears, just as the projected image of himself hunches over the object in his hands. Dusty. He clenches his fists and tries to move away from the claw; he can't watch this.

"Oh, come on now, Mr. Styles, we're nearly at my favorite part." Simon is even closer to Harry now, he can tell by the volume of his voice. "It's truly romantic."

Harry watches in terror as the door to his flat opens and a small, shadowed figure cradling a teacup paces towards him. He watches as Louis' face goes through a myriad of emotions before settling on concerned, and then he is lowering himself in one fluid motion to kneel beside Harry.

He can see how this could be misconstrued as romantic, what with the way that Louis' hand fits so delicately on the back of his neck, his blue eyes shining with unshed tears as he calls Harry's name. Harry watches as his past self slowly tilts his head upwards, cheeks hollowing as he tries to hold back another gut-wrenching sob. And then Louis kisses him.

Their mouths fit together like puzzle pieces, Harry notices as Louis fists a handful of his curls and presses against his mouth gently. It hardly looks like a first kiss, too, there's no awkwardness as Past Harry's head tilts ever-so-slightly to the left for a better angle. They almost look like how his parents did when they would kiss, with the way that they exude this aura of familiarity as they meld together seamlessly. Harry watches as the projected Louis breaks apart from the kiss, and then the projection is over.