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I've been bleeding in your silence, I feel safer in your violence.knows it's coming from the restricted part of the flat, and is most likely not caused by a shifty window.

He tenses under the comforter for a minute, wide awake and staring at the floor before the thud happens again and he decides to investigate.

It's not a great task getting out of bed since Harry made no attempt to hold Louis like normal couples would. Louis felt the depressing notion that they'd never work up to the cuddling and typical cliché romance stage.

The bedroom is easy enough to escape and tread lightly into the living room, where the thud is louder and now less frequent. Although it's louder, whatever's causing it has gotten tired.

The building across from them casts a monstrous shadow in the living room against the dim moonlight. Harry had all the apartment lights off when he slept and Louis doesn't know why, because in a place like this the atmosphere bleeds spooky.
Louis avoids dropping boxes as he skips over to the closed and banned door, taking a deep breath to let the air around him settle so he can hear clearly.

Outside the neighbours' dogs are howling at the moon or at each other; cats fall from trash cans and night workers hurry to get going. The street is asleep, and the same goes for the man in the bedroom who's finally getting a good rest after years of not being able to.

Louis exhales and grabs the brass doorknob of the broad white door, praying to the Gods that it doesn't squeak. The thud is off now, stopped finally but there's a sort of scratching on the other side of this barrier.

Harry rolled over in bed towards Louis' side - previously Harry's side - in the hopes of throwing an arm across the boy's petite frame and blame it on his slumber tomorrow morning. The bed is warm but empty. He sits up and groggily rubs his eyes before checking the time.

Louis hears shuffling and stops moving, breathing and thinking. Harry's awake and he's going to find Louis snooping around. The thought of repercussions make Louis dizzy.

Harry throws the covers off and gets up, annoyed by this circumstance. Louis wasn't in the bathroom and he wasn't in the closet. As much as Harry is worried if the boy is hurt, he's losing his will to lid his temper at the options of Louis having run away and left him or worse.
He goes into the passage and pauses to flip the light on, blinking away the fogginess and stopping short.

"What are you doing?" He asks, curt and aggravated.

"Warming milk." Louis is at the stove, and glances over his shoulder to answer Harry. "Would you-"

"Why did you leave?" Harry approaches the kitchen and looks at the still locked forbidden door before stepping behind the counter.

"I couldn't sleep." Louis pours enough milk for two glasses into a stainless steel pot.

"Why?"

"Just restless." The boy shrugs.

Harry's eyes trail down the length of Louis' body, memorising where his tanned skin dimpled and curved. The bandage was not soiled yet, and stood out nicely against Louis' natural complexion. Harry couldn't wait to have it taken out completely to show off.

When Louis' done adding a bit of cinnamon and sugar, he gets drawn back by strong hands on his hips. He gasps and almost drops the bag of essence when Harry pins their bodies together back-to-chest.

"You don't have to convince me-" Louis' heart races from his previous risk-taking and now this. "-I'd happily give you milk."

Harry is smirking against Louis' neck, biting down a bit to leave his mark behind. He snakes a hand into Louis' hair and tugs, yanking his head back to provide him more room to work. He gets off on the breathless noises Louis makes, scrunching his eyebrows as he becomes more desperate.

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