Chasing Empty Spaces

Chapter 9

"I love you so much," Harry whispered and pressed their foreheads flush together. He nudged Louis' nose with his own, "You gotta believe me. I - Fuck, I need you to know."

Louis sniffled and looked down, his thick eyelashes clotted together. He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt as he quietly asked, "You're gonna tell them no?"

Harry leaned back and nodded.

Louis bit his bottom lip, wrinkles linking his forehead in concentration. He looked from the ground to Harry and visibly swallowed, "Promise me."

"I promise," Harry earnestly said, catching a couple more tears with the pad of his thumb.

After a moment, Louis slowly nodded.

"Okay."

****

Harry followed five feet behind his father as they strode towards the main office of the firm. Throughout the afternoon, Robin continuously blabbered about sales charting at unheard of rates. His expectantly smug grins warranted bland responses from Harry. It took every ounce of self-control in Harry's body not to curl into a ball once Louis had left the plantation that morning. Everything felt fragile between them and he needed to be with his boyfriend, reassuring him, instead of wasting time at the tobacco firm.

"Son, I want to talk to you about something important," Robin tersely announced as he ushered Harry into his office.

"Alright," Harry impassively responded, sinking into a chair across from his father's desk.

Robin seated himself and folded his hands on atop the wooden surface. He carefully eyed Harry before opening a side drawer and pulling out a crystal glass of bourbon. Harry's eyebrows pinched when his father materialized two glasses from the drawer as well, promptly filling them with the heady liquid.

Harry wearily took a proffered glass, "What's this -"

"I'm retiring after the season and I want you to take over the company."

The glass nearly fell from Harry's limp grasp.

"Of course I'll still keep an eye," Robin winked, "But, it's your time to take 'er on."

Harry's throat was dry, unable to produce a sound.

Robin arrogantly chuckled, "Speechless, huh?" He sipped his bourbon and cleared his throat, "Thought you might be."

"But - I thought," Harry eventually flustered for the right words.

He thought he had more time.

"You've been preparing for this since you could walk," Robin carried on as he mindlessly swished the bourbon. He affirmatively nodded, "You're ready."

Harry shook his head, "M' really -"

"I know you won't let me down," Robin clipped, his tone sounding more like a threat than a reassurance.

"I really don't want to disappoint you, but -"

"Good," His father challengingly cut him off. His mustache bristled as he bit out, "Then, don't."

Harry's forearms heavily rested onto the tops of his thighs, voice lodged in his throat. It was too soon. Harry hadn't been sure if he wanted to inherit the company and now he had a few months before it was officially his. A conniving voice inside his head sneered that it was his own fault for never speaking up. Even as his father haughtily cheered to Harry's successful future with the company and a prosperous impending marriage, Harry couldn't stand up for himself.

****

The wooden planks of the dock excruciatingly creaked as Harry sprinted, his chest heaving with disjointed breaths. He ripped the suit jacked from his frame and blindly tossed it behind him. Wind berated his bare skin in searing whips. Time slipped away as tears clung to his skin like cancerously twined ivy. His arms pumped in synchronization with his bounds, each one bringing him closer to the edge. The sole of his shoe pushed from the final plank. Clenching his eyes shut, Harry catapulted into freezing water.