stockholm syndrome

four

Louis knew who it was before he opened the door.

Before he saw him there, bathed in the pale light of the moon that shone through the window, shone through the thick clouds of rain. Even before he smelled the all too familiar scent of honey and cinnamon, and before he saw those deep, deep eyes, those eyes that were here to steal Louis away, to lure him home like an ethereal siren would a lost sailor who had capsized in the sea, and who had lost all hope of seeing daybreak once more.

Louis simply stared at Harry, who simply stared back at him. Harry looked so scared, perhaps even more so than Louis himself. He was like a child who couldn't find their mom at the mall; who had just wandered off innocently, not knowing what could happen, and not knowing to worry about things like getting lost. God, Louis had missed those beautiful eyes, that soft face that belonged to a beautiful and soft soul.

The more Louis looked, the more terrible he realized Harry appeared. The circles under his eyes were as dark as the night, his hair was unbrushed, his clothes untidy and his whole body quivering from a physical terror. He looked absolutely fucking terrified. He looked like he'd seen a ghost. No, actually. He was one.

"Hate storms," Harry breathed, barely audible. His voice was so small, so weak and so... defeated. His hands were clasped anxiously behind his back, his shoulders hunched sadly and his toe tapping shyly at the floor beneath his feet. Louis prayed Harry hadn't already lost his battle.

"Yea," replied Louis, not much louder and no more enthusiastic. And so Louis followed the boy down the stairs, because yea, he understood. He followed him into his bedroom, and watched as Harry just stood there in the center of the room, shivering idly, like he had no idea what to do with himself. Louis took initiative and lit a single candle as a source of light and hopefully comfort. He dug through the closet, bringing Harry a clean pair of clothes. He pushed them into his chest, instructing firmly,

"Get changed Harry, you'll feel better." Harry's eyes widened but he took the clothes from Louis, not hesitating to get undressed and change in front of the other boy. When he was done, Louis fetched a cup of water from the bathroom and watched Harry drink it, making sure he was at the best health he could be in before bed.

He grabbed Harry by the elbow and guided him into the bed, pushing him down and pulling the covers all the way up to his chin. Louis remembered the very first time he and Harry met; how Harry had done the same thing to him, and how he felt so very loved, and he hoped in the back of his mind that Harry could feel it now too. As he walked around the bed and sunk into his own side, Louis remembered how Harry had kissed his forehead. Or at least, how he thought he had.

Louis turned his head to see Harry, who hadn't moved, eyes squeezed as tightly shut as possible with tears visible around the brims. His tense hands clenched tightly around the sheet on his chest, and his entire body shaking like a leaf in a breeze. A particularly loud thunder clap sounded, and Harry jumped, even whining a little bit as he shook even harder.

Without thinking, Louis grabbed hold of Harry's shoulders, pulling him near to his body. Harry opened his eyes in surprise, but didn't resist as Louis dragged his body to lay him across his chest, and locked his arms around his torso.

"Harry, relax babe, it's okay." Louis insisted, massaging Harry's long hair with both hands. The touch relieved a ton of the tension that was radiating off of Harry, and he melted into Louis like putty, letting out a long, long sigh. "How come you're so afraid of the storm? The rain can be so serene," Louis asked after a moment.

Harry only shook his head, burying his face into Louis' neck, which made it very hard for Louis to breathe correctly. Louis held him tighter, because he had never seen someone look so terrified. They stayed like for a minute, before Harry shifted onto his elbow to look down at Louis.