Burn [Larry Stylinson AU]

Chapter Two

He slipped out of bed and looked down at the clothes he had been clad in. He wore a large thermal jumper that had been rotting in the back of his closet, gray sweatpants, and long wooly socks that reached his calves. He stretched, and concluded nothing was broken.

How could that be possible though? Louis had been beaten down and was near the brink of death when he passed out. How did he get home? Was last night nothing but a dream?

Louis looked at the thrown clothes and realized that that couldn't be possible. Last night did happen, and not only did he escape with not even a scratch, but also managed to find himself home.

His train of thought was broken when Louis heard a whine come from behind the bathroom door. Louis froze in his tracks.

ohshitohshitohshit

The door was ajar and a crack of the bathroom's light peered on the carpet. The whining had ceased, leaving nothing but a heavy silence. Louis tiptoed to the kitchen and grabbed a kitchen knife, his heart vibrating intensely in his chest and a cold sweat settling on his forehead. He controlled his breathing, forcing himself to breathe in and out, in and out.

There was a rattle at the window, and Louis looked over to it to see a white bird fluttering against the glass. Slowly, Louis walked over to the window and lifted the pane, stepping back in hope of not alarming the bird. The dove perched on the windowsill, clacking its twig-like feet against the surface as it lightly paced. Before Louis could try to comprehend just exactly what this strange bird was doing, there was a bloodcurling scream from the bathroom.

Before he could even stop and think, Louis dropped the knife and rushed to the door, throwing himself into the room.

He couldn't process the image through his head. It was so heartbreaking and frightening. He wanted to run, but he found himself glued to the spot, gaping in horror.

The angel, the angel from the night before, was crouched over the bathroom tiles. His hands were running through his dark tousled hair, and he was sobbing gently. He looked small and vulnerable, completely helpless than the figure Louis remembered from the night before. His crouched form gave Louis a full view of his crumpled wings. They were . . . bleeding.

Actually bleeding. The dark red liquid stained the feathers, drenching them in a coppery stench. The once shimmering wings now laid clumped and furled around the broken angel's body. The blood slid into the cracks of the tiles, creating a jagged pattern along the cold, white floor around the angel. It was a gruesome sight; seeing something so remarkable and great looking so broken and hopeless. It was like watching a dancer fall before the curtain call; a starving lion unable to make its kill; a bird with a crippled wing.

The angel's body racked with quiet sobs and whimpers. The cries were so excruiatingly beautiful and heartbreaking, Louis had to wil himself not to sink to his knees.

Once he was sure he wasn't going to cry or vomit, the rational part of Louis' brain sprang into action. He walked over to the tub and let the warm water run. He stuck his hand under it, and deciding he was content with the temperature, walked over to the quivering boy. Louis outstretched his shaking hand, lightly placing it on the angel's shoulder.

The angel flinched and looked up at Louis with eyes the color of moss. Trails of tears were still fresh on his cheeks and his hair was a downright mess, but still looked just as breathtaking. Louis cleared his dry throat and spoke softly, "You need to get up now. I've got the shower running so we can get you cleaned up. You can do that for me, yeah?"

The beautiful anel looked up at him and nodded weakly. Louis smiled kindly and said softly, "Ok, good. Let's get up, love."

He gingerly led the boy to his feet and helped him into the tub. Louis watched with cautious eyes as the angel settled onto the floor of the tub, fearing he might pass out and split his skull against the hard surface. When the boy leaned back against the tub, wincing when his wings came in contact with the cold surface, Louis let the warm water run over his body.