69 For 28 || l.s

33.

There's a flickering candle diming the room in a soft yellowish light. Like in an old movie, everything at peace, just a candle on the nightstand bringing no good. There's a double sized bed in the middle of the expensive cabin, actually intended to be the captains'.

Unfortunately he's six feet under due to his lack of translation knowledge. Things happen, especially when you're a captain, who can't tell the difference between left and right/yes and no.

Now, Louis is seated in the middle of the huge bed, his slim frame covered in a plain white shirt and blue trackies, that stretch right on his thighs.

The pressure he puts in pressing the white liquid out the tube is insufficient. He bites his lips, anger bubbling up in his stomach, that aching one, that just comes and makes his skin itch. Makes him want to inflict pain on others.
Louis had it from a very young age, either out of frustration or immaturity.

A bit like he's irascible.

In a different way, when he was younger he'd throw things across the room or hit his knuckles against the next hard object to relife the stress that was so intransigent, somedays he could do nothing but lay in his bed and cry.

As a young boy, his parents worried. Obviously they did, especially his Mum. Everyday she'd drive him to different appointments. Psychologists, doctors, even a special treatment for anger issues. Nothing helped.

Over the years it changed. His anger changed to anxiety, blending in with the dull atmosphere of his days. Worsening as he started smoking.

His illicit behavior took a huge part in solving his little anger problem. Now that he could in fact inflict pain to others.

"Good for nowt this shit." Harry approached his slumped figure on the bed. The matress dipped as he sat himself beside Louis and took the tube from his hands. "You just have to press it right. Here see, roll it." Harry shows him, rolling the tube, white liquid coming out of it.

"Fucker." Louis grumbled disapproving Harrys talent to do things right.

"Ay! I heard that."

"Oh fuck off and get on with it."

"Should I put it on your shirt or are you gonna remove it?"

Louis visibly stiffened. "Sure, my bad." He grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his hair, tossing it down the bed.

"You seem uncomfortable."

"Yes, you're making it odd."

"I just want to be sure you're ok with me touching you, LouiS."

"How charming. You're such a gentleman, should I thank you for treating me like some virgin?"

Harry gasped, choking on his spit.

"You're so- Discourteous!"

"Sure mate. Now get on with it or I'll go ask Liam, he perhaps wouldn't talk as much as you do."

Harry shut his mouth, and angrily put his hands over Louis shoulder blades, digging his thumps deep in the softest part of Louis back. Due to him being very much a tense statue, this would hurt.

And it did. Louis slumped forward hissing between gritted teeth in pain, as Harry continued, devoted to making this as hurtful as possible.

"You're very tense." He remarks, sitting up on his knees to get a better grib on Louis, kneeding his shoulders harder.

-

Harry isn't resentful. After about 5 minutes he starts being nice. His large hands working the liquid over the bruises dressing Louis muscular back.