Branded - Larry Stylinson

Chapter 8 - The Madness Within.

Candlelight cast dark shadows over the walls of the hallway, making each step of the staircase look far taller than they were and the corridor beside it appear far more eerie than it was in broad daylight. The warm light from that single candle in Zayn's hand glinted from the lens of his blue eyeglass and accentuated every feature of both his physical appearance and, in some way, his personality. The light of the candle in the darkness of the room would always reflect the madness within.

The Earl stared at Harry who'd sunk down the wall and was now sitting on the floor, humming some strange version of 'here we go 'round the mulberry bush'. Louis sat on the third step of the stairs, looking down at his husband with concern and terror. The only other sounds that could be heard then were the Grand-father clock in the distance and the clicking of Louis' shoe while his knee jolted up and down repeatedly.

Zayn's eyes suddenly darted away from him when he caught movement by the hatstand. He clicked his tongue twice and Polly scurried over to him, up his trousers and onto the brim of his hat. He tickled her head with a black-nailed finger, and then turned back to the men before him.

"Both of you have blood of your hands." He said, as if neither Harry nor Louis could've possibly noticed such a thing. "Whose is it? Each others or your own?"

He watched Louis hesitate, and Harry laugh and mutter something quietly to himself. Something that sounded like, "'I couldn't hurt Harry,' thinks the bastard who killed the Commander."

"So it's your own." Zayn said, looking at Louis' hands. "Yours is from your eye, is it not? You've changed patch since I saw you last." He then turned to Harry and his eyebrows furrowed. "What about you? Where did your blood come from, Gypsy-boy?"

Harry looked up, grinned, and leant forward. He touched Zayn's boot, then wrapped his hand around the man's ankle. The rings on his fingers caught the candle-light and glistened when he moved his hand upwards. It drifted to Zayn's knee, then moved to his inner thigh. Out of a sudden panic that Louis had never seen in him before, Zayn kicked Harry in the chest and backed away. Polly hissed from the brisk movement before curling back into the curves of the hat.

Zayn's expression was horrified, Louis' was just broken, and Harry had too many things passing over his face. The Earl saw many people in Harry, then, but Harry was not one of them. He saw a pervert who'd step over too many boundaries; an wild beast who'd crave insanity; a child who'd lost their favourite toy; and above it all, he saw the broken in a body that hadn't deserved this foul treatment.

And so he stepped up to Harry, with more caution than before, and knelt down in front of him. Those green eyes frightened him, although he would never admit it. There were too many things to read there, and perhaps that the deep analysis that he could get from them was what influenced Zayn into staring back. Harry gave a grimy-looking smile and put a hand out to stroke Zayn's cheek. Louis let out a sharp breath of air and turned his face away.

"It's alright." Zayn told him, "Louis, close your eye. Promise me that you won't look."

"Why?" Louis asked, his voice shaking, "No-"

Zayn glanced at Louis through the corner of his eye, Harry's hand still on his cheek. "Louis, you trusted me once, so trust me again. Close your eye."

Louis hesitated, but the longer he looked at Zayn, the calmer he felt. There were so many secrets that Louis had confessed to Zayn over the years, and not one of them had been outed. He closed his eye, and waited for the signal to open it again.

Zayn waited for a few seconds, and then turned to Harry. The Gypsy-boy was muttering again, saying lewd things that Zayn didn't know he had in him. But despite Harry's hand touching Zayn's cheek, the words he said were most obviously for Louis. He mentioned a missing eye, a missing leg, and a heart that had been broken a little too much. In his slurred voice, he said many crude and revolting things, but in the end, they were just a love-letter.