Bodies?
Louis instantly recoiled, he wasn’t even sure what that meant, and he reeled for an answer, while just blankly staring with wide eyes at the boy sobbing before him. He hadn’t seen him this broken since the night.
“What… do you mean Harry?” Louis asked stiffly, holding his breath until he thought his lungs would pop. He found himself shifting further away, but Harry was grasping onto his shirt like a child screaming for comfort.
Harry was hyperventilating and sobbing so hard his words were barely coherent, “Bodies, Louis. People, children- oh god children.” Louis tensed and slipped out of the bed, staring down at the boy who writhed like a fish out of water in despair. The man felt as though he might puke, he didn’t want to believe this- he had to be dreaming.
Louis didn’t realize he had started to cry himself until he spoke, “What do you mean more bodies Harry?!” He shouted, trembling and leaning on the edge of the bed for support as he was feeling extremely light-headed.
"I don’t know, Louis,” the boy sobbed, suddenly sitting straight up and crawling across the bed to clutch onto Louis’ arms, who flinched and pulled away, “It’s all a blur… I-I get bits and pieces and I didn’t start remembering… things… until I came here- until I met you.” He sounded so wounded and distant, he was looking at the wall with watery eyes and his lips were swollen and red, cheeks painted with lines of tears.
Louis was now flattened against the wall, his stomach constantly turning and threatening to turn itself inside out, “You killed more people?” He brokenly whispered, bottom lip quivering in horror.
Harry let out a mangled yell, covering his ears and hunching down as though someone had just screamed straight into his ear, pinching his eyes shut as he wailed even louder, “Don’t say that, I don’t want to hear it.”
"Harry!" Louis yelled, pushing off the wall and gripping the sides of the boy’s shoulders, forcing bleary eye-contact, "You have to breathe for me, okay? You have to tell me what you’re remembering." He tried to touch back into his years of therapist experience, but it was erratic and messy to the fact he was falling so heavily for someone who just told him he killed more than seven people.
Harry shook his head over and over, his chest rising and falling hectically, bottom lip quivering, “I don’t KNOW, Louis! I feel it, I don’t see or remember it.. normally.” He croaked out through barred teeth, as though he restraining some sort of fury. Louis took the chance to rub his shoulders to try and soothe him, cooing gently.
"What do you feel?"
Harry glanced up, the calm that had momentarily washed over the boy with Louis’ cooing, changed to shame and he diverted his eyes as his bottom quivered again and he shook his head, looking down at the quilt.
"Harry,please.”
He again shook his head over and over, pitiful cries echoing from his mouth, “I-I just feel this heavy weight on my chest- like a boulder is just sitting there. Like their.. bodies are suffocating me.” He whispered it, almost inaudibly.
Louis couldn’t help the terrified moan that scraped up the back of his throat, and he couldn’t help but let out a little sob, “Harry…” was all he could muster. He felt so sick, not only for the weight of the situation, but also the fact he felt… pity for him. A second thought nagged at him- what if he’s just playing that guilt card, making up stories again. But with the stricken look on his face, he decided against that. He ran a hand up to push his curls from his face- and surprisingly even to himself, leaned forth and pressed a kiss to his forehead. He took a bite from the forbidden apple, and an unusual tremor gripped his whole body. Harry momentarily stopped trembling and peered up at him under wet lashes. He weakly smiled- not his usual wicked smile- just one of genuine thankfulness. Louis let out a broken sigh, cupping the boy’s cheek in his hand.
