69 For 28 || l.s

23.

He felt sick. Niall would never do such thing, even though Louis got major trust issues, Niall wasn't one of them.

Louis wanted to reach out and hit Harry, but as he lifted his arm, the drug hit. He bend over, his hand covering his mouth, too late though.

Meanwhile they shared quite a bunch of embarrassing situations, but this one was by all mean the worst. The absolute worst.

He threw up on Harrys feet.

He was going to die.

Louis thought while emptying his stomach content, god that fucking floor was expensive.

"Shit" He distantly heard Harry rasp.

Then he collapsed, feeling Harrys strong arms wrap around his waist, bringing him down gently.

His whole body was tingling, either because he was nauseous or because Harry was still holding him, to his chest, one arm around his waist. Their bodys pressed closely together, Louis could feel the rough material of Harrys' trouser on his ass.

Louis began to lose consciousness and sink deeper and deeper into Harry's arms until he was lying with his head against something slightly hard. Oh.

His eyes widened, then he past out. Not feeling how Harry picked him up over his shoulder, bumping the poor lads head a few times.

Harry brought him all the way up the stairs, realizing now that Louis wasn't that tiny after all. He threw him on the bed, breathing heavily beside Louis unconcious body.

Not like he pitied him, but, well maybe he did. It's the good in him, he guessed, walking downstairs. Where he searched for the keys. Trying to stay calm because this was his chance to get free. Maybe the last he'll ever get. And if he's not hurrying up, he'd miss the delicious chance to escape again.

At this point he didn't care about the consequences of his actions. He'd either get free or die. Thinking about it, he didn't even know what to do after he'd get his freedom back.

Probably go to the police. But on the other hand, I'd create a mess, the whole story would get him bad articles, and probably ruin his career.

And he did by all honesty felt sympathy for Louis. Although he really shouldn't.

But, well he did. And the guilt for leaving him unconscious, on his back in which position he could suffocate to death, creeped up his spine.

Harry was torn apart in searching for the key he wouldn't find, and staying until Louis would wake up.
He couldn't believe how stupid he was, for even considering to stay in a room with a possible murderer. Not even a house, a rusty too big hotel room somewhere in Seattle.

What is he doing. As they drove by he saw dozents of big flat screens showing his fucking face. Police, was surely looking for him as well.

And his dumpass considered staying.

For his own sake he started ruffling through all the jackets sprawled put on the wooden floor. He got on his knees, turning and tossing them all, in the back of his head the time, that was ticking faster then usual.

Harry felt stressed, unable to concentrate and actually grab things with his sweaty palms. His lungs tightened as he heard floorboard creak.

"Fucking prick", He heard from upstairs, cold shivers running down his spine, as he sat there crunched down, fiddling with an adidas jumper.
He tried to fold all the jumpers, ready to get a bullet in his head as the floorboard cracked again, louder this time. Glass shattered to the floor. Harry sat there horrified.