Imprisoned In My Heart: A Larry Stylinson Fanfic

18.

Louis’ head jerked up as the door of his office clicked softly, and as Harry slipped into the office he was out of his seat in an instant, rushing towards the boy. He stopped dead only a few steps away from his desk at the sight of Harry’s red eyes and pale complexion. Clearly he had been crying non-stop for hours on end, if not all night; his eyelashes were spiky and moisture clung to them, and his flushed face was still damp. Dark shadows underneath his swollen eyes made Louis’s heart ache, as did the almost insane hopelessness in Harry’s eyes. Those green irises had never been so emotionless; they were dull with only the tiniest spark of life, and even that was rapidly dying. A whole night had been far too long to wait for some news; Louis had been haunted by it – and yet, looking at the trembling Harry, his colourless face, desperate expression and the fresh tears that were already falling, he instinctively realized he gladly would wait another fifty years without knowing – because he didn’t want to know. Harry was crying unashamedly as he closed the door behind him, and Louis froze with horror, wanting to do something but unable to move or even breathe properly as he waited with an awful sinking feeling for the news.

“I’m sorry,” Harry wailed, and his hands flew up to cover his face.

“How bad is it?” Louis asked, the words tasting odd and his mouth struggling to form them.

Harry looked up. “As bad as it can be.” His trembling lips twitched into an awful, humourless smile.

“Tell me.”

“I’ve let you down,” Harry whispered. “I made you a promise, and I let you down.”

“Harry!” Louis begged. “Tell me!”

“You told me not to do anything stupid. I’m an idiot. I’m such an idiot…”

Louis wondered if Harry could even hear him; he was muttering to himself with a dazed look on his face, arms wrapped defensively around himself, swaying back and forth as if he might fall to the floor and curl up in a ball at any second.

“Please, Harry!”

Something dark and desperate flared in Harry’s eyes as he looked up, and Louis wished he could take the words back, because he didn’t want –

“They’re sending me away, Louis.”

Louis felt his chest give a horrifying throb – and then his heart shattered.

At the sight of Louis’ horror, his blank, shocked expression and the confused agony in his dark blue eyes, Harry let out a strange, tearful laugh, touched by hysteria. Then a strangled noise fell from his mouth and he stumbled forwards another step.

With a low groan, Louis staggered to meet him, and Harry collapsed into his arms. Seconds later, the boy was sobbing into his shoulder, and Louis clung to him, crying himself, tears falling hot and fast into Harry’s hair even as Harry’s tears poured down Louis’ neck. Somehow, Louis found himself rocking backwards and forwards, cradling Harry in his arms and clinging to him, his muscles screaming because he was holding on so tight, but he refused to let go. The words echoed in Louis’ head, but they didn’t make sense. He didn’t want them to be true. Harry was shaking against him, and Louis felt like he might be sick. His arms tightened around Harry, needing him to be closer even though it seemed almost impossible for their bodies to be nearer to each other; they were already so entwined that they were practically one person.

“Where?” Louis forced out.

Why was he still asking these questions? Why did it even matter? Harry was being sent away – nothingmattered. The world was ending, the apocalypse was coming, and the worst part, Louis knew, was that nobody apart from the two of them knew what this felt like, how much it hurt. Nobody cared. And somehow, past the ball of agony in his chest and the lump in his throat, the sobs building deep inside him, the shudders of their bodies and the sudden desire to fall to the floor and just scream, he was saying the word “where?” as if knowing would make some sort of difference. It was almost enough to make him laugh, but that would have hurt just a little bit too much. His whole body was fractured; he was amazed that somehow he hadn’t fallen apart yet. Harry was holding him together – just – but when he left, Louis would fall apart at the seams…and he would beg for that moment to come, because everything else hurt.