Guns & Roses (Larry Stylinson)

Deep Connections

Update time!

How are you all doing? What do you think/want to happen from here in the story? (Just curious, it's all already planned ☺)

Warning: Slight hints of sexual abuse and mentions of physical abuse. You are all so strong and lovely, please never forget that.

Also, This chapter is going to be rated M once more for sexual content. Do what you must to prepare! 😉

Chapter 41:

I woke up as I heard a small crash in the living room. I jumped up in my sleep, feeling my side ache as I pulled the stitches a bit. I was about to move to grab my gun on the nightstand, but then I noticed Harry walking back into the bedroom.

His eyes fell over to me, and he gave a sheepish smile.

"Sorry," He whispered. "I didn't mean to wake you. I was trying to put everything away from earlier. Dropped the sewing kit."

Slowly, I allowed my body to relax. I held my hand out to Harry, and he walked over to the bed, sitting on his knees beside me.

"How're you feeling?"

"Like shit," I admitted. "How long was I out? What time is it?" It still seemed dark out, and our only lights were still the small lanterns burning in the small cabins. It was a good thing that the blankets on the bed were warm.

"Not long. Probably only thirty minutes or so," He announced, and I was surprised by that. It felt like hours since I laid down and closed my eyes. "I found some bandages in the restroom while you slept. I figured I could place them over the stitches instead of my ripped shirt sleeves. They'd be more efficient."

"Yeah, okay," I agreed. I took off my shirt and tossed it carelessly to the ground. My shoulder hurt like hell, but it was still better than allowing the wound to stay opened and risk infection.

"Okay," Harry said. He climbed off of the bed and grabbed a small package of bandages from the bedside table. He opened it up and pulled one out. He started on my shoulder first, wrapping it around my shoulder tight, but not too tight. It was sturdy but not pulled enough to cut off any circulation. As soon as he finished, he looked down at the stitched up wound on my side. Ever so gently, his fingers traced over the fresh stitch mark.

"You did a good job," I commented, and Harry offered a sad smile in return. He stared at the closed wound and pouted, his lip trembling as he spoke.

"When I saw you sitting in the corner of the living room... it looked like so much blood. I thought you were going to die," He admitted, and I quickly held his hand in my own, squeezing it to show that I was still here with him. "Then, I saw him press the gun to your heart, and I couldn't stay silent anymore. I was fucking petrified, Louis. I thought he was going to kill you, and I didn't want to see it happen. I couldn't live with that. I- I was so scared."

His voice broke on the last sentence, and he lowered his head to mine, our foreheads resting against each other, his nose bumping into my own as his free hand held onto my uninjured shoulder tightly.

"I'm sorry that I scared you," I whispered out, letting him squeeze me as tight as he needed to. "I had no intention of dying there, Harry. I wouldn't have allowed it because you needed me."

"I still do," He said, and I nodded in understanding as I finally tilted my head up and captured his lips in mine.

It'd been nearly a whole day since everything went down, but there were still so many unfiltered emotions between the two of us. Harry was very shaken up by what he experienced, and I was going through the difficult task of actually caring about the tragedy instead of blocking it away and ignoring my sinful deeds.