Hello! This story is going to take another turn soon, so buckle up! However, this chapter is safe, but does deal with serious issues.
WARNING: Mentions of depression, suicidal thoughts, self-harm, brief mentions of domestic abuse, and hints at sexual abuse as well. Please read carefully and skip if you need to! I am always here to talk if you want to rant or couldn't read the chapter and wish to know what else happened. It's completely fine with me, loves.
Thank you all so much for the constant dedication and lovely comments. I love reading and replying to as many as I can.
Now, enjoy your update!
Chapter 44:
I shut the door to the bedroom after checking up on Niall, making sure he was situated. He talked to me a bit about how he was going to fuck up the other gang for the shit they put him through. I hoped we would get the opportunity. As of right now, however, we were both too fucked up to do much.
Harry made the decision that Niall should get the bed. He was in terrible condition, and I had no qualms about sleeping with Harry on the sofa. It might be a bit cramped, but I'd rather stay beside him than sleep beside Niall and constantly worry about him through the night.
I walked back to the living room, going to just sit beside the sofa for most of the night and think about some type of plan on what to do once we get back to base. What would we do against Plague's gang then?
Instead, my plans were put on hold as I saw Harry sitting on the sofa, knees pulled to his chest as he cried softly in the darkness of the room. The lanterns illuminated part of his face, highlighting the wetness on his cheek while the other half of his face was lingering in the shadows. And everytime the lantern flames flickered, it was as if he was fighting the darkness from fully taking over.
I didn't say a word. Instead, I walked over to the sofa and sat beside Harry, wiping off the tears from his cheeks as he looked over at me. Then, I pulled him into my arms and pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck. I could feel him shake and shudder in my arms as silent sobs surfaced from deep within.
It was so much agony, and it stabbed worse than any physical pain I've ever felt. I felt useless as I held Harry.
I knew there was nothing I could do because the pain wasn't external.
"I'm sorry," Harry cried out in a whisper. I shook my head automatically.
"You have nothing to be sorry for, love. Absolutely nothing."
"I can't... I just... I- I-" He tried to speak. I knew that I would never understand how deep Harry's sorrow was rooted. I would never be able to know exactly what he was feeling because they were his emotions to feel. I could think about my own lows, but the two weren't comparable. I knew that everyone's pain was different, even if it stemmed from similar roots.
Like a flower.
"You can tell me anything, Harry, but you never have to share if you don't want to. I'll still be here to hold you through it," I vowed, feeling his hands clutch onto my arms.
His back was pressed against my chest, and I rocked our bodies side to side, trying to soothe him in any way possible. Seeing him cry, seeing him ache, seeing him succumb to the dangers of his mind, it was horrible to witness. It felt like sinning to not be able to help him.
"I can't sleep," He admitted. "I'm afraid of the nightmares that will come. I'm afraid of the reality we're in. What if I wake up, and you're being hurt or you disappeared? What if they come for us in our sleep, when we're least prepared? What if the nightmares take over, and I can't seem to shut them off?" The tears were falling faster now. I felt his teardrops on my arms. They were the gentlest of raindrops.
"Harry," I began, resting my chin on his shoulder. "I will do everything in my power to protect you. I will survive to make sure you are safe. I'll stay up if you want to rest."
"It's more than that," He whimpered out. Intertwining our hands, I remained silent and gave him all of the time needed to speak up. "I can't handle it all. It feels like I'm breaking. And it's such a selfish thing to feel because you and Niall are really hurt, and I'm not. You have both been through so much, but I'm the one crying here."
"It's not selfish. This is all new to you. We've been through this far too many times to count. We each understand the risk we're taking by being a part of the gang. We've been injured before, but we always bounce back."
"That doesn't make it okay, Louis," Harry insisted. And... no, it didn't.
I knew that, but what else was I supposed to say? If any of us allowed ourselves too much time to dwell on our choices, we would drive ourselves mad. In the gang, you left everything in the past and learned from stupid mistakes you made. You didn't hold onto negative emotions like guilt or doubt. They were married to death.
"It hurts inside," His voice broke as his hand grasped at his own chest, trying to harbour his own heart in his hands. "Every single day, and it is the worst time for all of these emotions to come flooding to the surface, but I... there's so much pain."
He sniffled as he spoke. The hand that wasn't grasping at his own chest was still clutching onto me. My arms wrapped around his waist as I held him as close as possible, wishing I could squeeze all of his broken pieces back into place and make him whole.
I wasn't an idiot. I knew it didn't work that way. If it did, then maybe my mum would still be around.
"You've been through so much, Harry. So much. And you deserved none of it."
"...Maybe I did."
His voice was such a low whisper. It was the most melancholic, self-deprecating, and irrational thing I've ever heard.
"You don't." My tone was a bit too harsh, making Harry flinch in my hold, but he didn't try to break away from me. I checked myself before continuing. "You are nothing but caring and kind. Harry, the world is just a shitty place that picks on the most forgiving people. It hollows them out and takes away any chance at happiness because it's a feeding beast that is never satiated. You didn't deserve any of the hell you went through: your parents' death, your grandmother's passing, the abuse, the neglect, the thoughts that hurt so deeply that carving into your own skin was the only way to rid them away. You didn't-- you don't-- deserve it. And I will not allow you to think for a second that you do."
"Maybe I am a shitty person, Louis," He purposed. All of the self-doubt inside of him was pouring out in waves. The negative thoughts were winning out against my words. "Maybe I only help others for my own purpose. I smile and pretend everything's alright. I'm lying to people who care about me. Isn't that wrong?"
"No," I decided. "They don't have to know every aspect of your life. If you aren't ready to share, then you don't have to share. I wish you would have asked for help, but you aren't lying to them for some sinister purpose. You were trying to protect them, if anything. And you don't have to do that. I think it's time that someone tries to protect you instead."
"You do," He admitted, turning his head to me. The tear tracks on his cheeks were still giving way to a few new tears. His green eyes glistened in the lantern lights. He tried to smile, but he didn't seem to have any energy to even force a fake one. "But nobody can truly protect me from myself."
I saw him look down at his arms. The red lines looked deeper and angrier in the yellow-orange light. It was as if they were burned into his skin. Never fading.
"I want to," He confessed, and my heart broke. "When you were in the room, talking to Niall, all I could think about was finding a kitchen knife and... harming myself."
His eyes shut in guilt. He shook his head, trying to chase away the thoughts.
I moved my hands to trace over the many scars that littered his arms. There were so many. There wasn't a single patch of smooth skin on his arms, from his wrists to his shoulders.
How long had it gone on for? Why the fuck didn't anybody notice?
I felt my own eyes sting as my fingers traced the self-induced cuts. I clenched my jaw as I swallowed thickly. Hot tears of anguish and outrage pricked my eyes before spilling over. Only just.
"You didn't," I pointed out through a choked voice. "You didn't, and I am so proud of you for fighting it."
"But I wanted to," He sobbed. "I craved it more than anything. There's this growing ball of sorrow inside of me that never fades. It doesn't burn out or grow smaller, only bigger. Every new experience dwells there. I can't forget anything."
My hand ran through his hair as I held his head to my chest. He curled into my lap like a small child. Frightened. Unsure.
"I remember everything. The stories of my parents' death, being locked in the basement for countless hours, every hit that Zander said I deserved, every slur he threw my way, every time we slept together only because he wanted to, every scar I've ever made in private, every false smile I mastered, every favor I did in hopes to keep others close-- to not be alone, every time my heart was broken and used and discarded again and again and again. How terrified I was when you were hurt right in front of me. I feel all of it, and I don't know how to move on from it all."
I was only adding onto all of that. I Harry was involved through this, there was a possibility that he would have to witness more death and injury and torture. But there was no going back now. I just had to make sure he was safe no matter what. I would try to keep the damage to a minimum, but I knew that was an unrealistic goal.
Blood had already been shed.
"We'll figure it out," I stated, but I didn't know if that was true. What Harry needed was a professional to talk to. He needed the depression pills that he was always too afraid to take. He needed positivity and a healthy environment. Right now, he had none of that. "I won't leave you to fend for yourself."
"You'll get tired of dealing with all of this and my constant sadness as well. You'll begin to resent me." He sounded so sure of himself. "And it'll break me because I don't think I've ever even loved Zander this way."
I turned him around to face me. His legs were now straddling my waist as I carefully lifted up his chin with my fingers.
"Do you think I would allow that? Do you think I would break your heart any more? Do you think I would hurt you?"
I needed to know. I had to have a deeper understanding of his thoughts; his mindset.
"No," Harry finally decided after looking into my eyes for a moment. He searched for something there, and he seemed to physically relax at whatever he must've discovered in my stare. "I trust you. But my mind...." He trailed off.
"Harry, nothing will stop me from caring deeply for you. Nothing will push me away. Okay? Not even the way your mind attacks you for your happiness. Instead, I want to bring that happiness, and I'm sorry for such a shitty situation right now." Again, he didn't deserve any of this.
"Thank you, Louis. For being so patient with me."
"You don't have to thank me. I care for you," I said, seeing him finally yawn after all of his tears were done spilling. I wiped his eyes for him and pressed a kiss to his lips. "Lay down, love. I won't fall asleep until after you do. I'll watch over you."
He nodded sleepily as he grabbed the blanket on the back of the sofa and laid flat, his head resting in my lap, my fingers running through his hair as I massaged his scalp.
"I want to tell you something I've never told anyone before," He voiced after a moment of silence.
"You can tell me anything, my rose," I stated, seeing a sleepy smile tug at Harry's lips at the pet name. Then, as quickly as it appeared, it left.
"My grandmother taught me everything she knew about medical care. She taught me how to stitch when I was in middle school," I didn't say a word as Harry spoke. I only listened carefully. Every word he said was forever imprinted in my brain. "The first time I stitched someone up... was on myself."
I didn't tense at the reveal. I didn't react in any way, even if I felt my heart sink and my stomach churn. I didn't do anything but continue to run my fingers through his hair, soothing him.
"I cut myself... a little too deep," He lifted his left arm up. There were far too many cuts and scars to tell which one was the stitched up one. They were littered all around like tally marks-- keeping count of every awful moment Harry's faced. "I had to clean the blood as best I could, and I stitched myself up. I couldn't live with the guilt of my nan finding me like that. But she never found out. Nobody ever knew."
It must have been a traumatizing experience. Harry nearly ended his life, and he had to gather up the strength to stitch himself up. He had to save himself, even if he desperately wanted anything but.
What kind of terror would that be? What sort of nightmares would that induce?
"It happened a couples more times," He admitted. "And I never said a word about it. I decided that suffering in silence was better for everybody. But... I think I was just so frightened of what my nan would think if she knew I was mutilating myself that way." He lowered his arm back down, tucking the blanket under his chin and close to his body. "Now you know."
"I'm thankful that you told me," I said, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his temple. Harry's head turned to me, and I kissed his lips before staring down into his eyes. "I'm glad that you're still breathing, Harry."
I heard him take a deep breath at my words. His eyes watered again, and I could tell they meant more to him than he could explain.
"It's very difficult to stay," He admitted, and I nodded.
"I know, baby. But you're not fighting this alone anymore, yeah? You don't have to suffer in silence any longer. I'm here."
"I know," He said, the smallest hint of a smile on his lips. His eyes were growing heavy at the lull of sleep, and I chuckled as I kissed his nose.
"Get some rest, babe. I'll be here if you need me."
"Goodnight, Lou. Thank you for listening to me."
"Anytime, love. Goodnight."
With that, we both allowed the silence to drift in the night. Harry's eyes fell closed, and I watched as his body slowly relaxed and sleep overtook him. I was overwhelmed by the feelings stirring inside of me for the man laying in my lap.
Harry was gorgeous and far too pure-hearted for this world. I wished that I could just wrap my arms around him and protect him the way a child though their blanket would. I longed for it; nearly prayed for it, even if I wasn't religious in the slightest.
I leaned my head back against the sofa and shut my eyes for a moment, not planning to fall asleep quite yet but feeling the toll of everything stacked upon my shoulders.
My plans were interrupted, however, as I heard the bedroom door creek open.
I opened my eyes to see Niall limping out of the room. He scrunched his face in pain as he approached the sofa.
"What are you doing out of bed?" I whispered, not wanting to wake up Harry.
Niall neglected to answer my question right away. His eyes drifted to Harry, and I saw a small frown fill my mate's features.
"How is he? Is he doing alright?" He wondered.
"He's dealing with a lot. He... he's depressed. Has been for a long while," I said, not wanting to go into the details of it. It wasn't my place to do so. "I know a lot of shit about survival and fighting and outsmarting others, but I know fuck all about how to help him through this."
"I'm sure being here for him is helping in its own way, Louis. Talking about it has to be some sort of outlet. Right?" Niall proposed, but I just shrugged, staring down as Harry again. His lips were slightly parted, small breaths being released.
"Why are you out of bed?" I repeated my question. Niall was hanging onto the sofa's arm. He was clearly in a good amount of physical pain, and he was being an idiot by walking around like this.
"I just remembered something that I heard from the other gang. It's very important, and I wanted to tell you before I forgot."
"What did you find out?" I did my best not to lean forward in the way that I wanted to.
"I think we may actually have a rat on the inside. Someone who's telling them locations," Niall revealed.
We all knew it was a possibility, but it was hard to believe when Zayn and Liam were constantly monitoring all of the guys. And I knew for a fact that they weren't the ones doing the ratting.
"That makes no sense," I muttered out, trying to think of possible suspects. "If it was anyone on the tech team, Liam would know in a second. Pretty sure they're the only ones who know where all of the members are scattered."
"I said they had someone on the inside, but I never said that I suspected they were still inside of the base. What if they were also scattered for protection?"
"If they were making calls or contacting others, Liam would know. He's good at that shit," I announced in full confidence of our tech head.
"Not if we somehow lost contact with that person."
It was all starting to click into place. Niall had days to think about this as he traveled in pain, and his intuition was good. Great, even.
"Are you saying-"
"On one of the guys who attacked me, I saw a red eye symbol tattooed on their hand. It was significantly small, but I've seen it before. We've seen it before."
I racked my brain, trying to remember where I've seen such a symbol. I tried to think of every single one of our members. We all had tattoos, save for Niall and a couple others, and we all seemed to have reasons for getting our tattoos. A lot of reasons never surfaced because it wasn't anybody's business. Then, I finally recalled where I've seen a red eye tattoo before.
"Fuck," I breathed out, feeling the rage and betrayal rise within me. "Kellen."
Niall nodded.
"He wasn't taken, he was fucking working with them," I seethed, careful not to jostle Harry. I kept my fingers relaxed as they ran through his hair. I found that the action soothed me as well, keeping me from having a complete outburst.
"And if that's true, then this operation has been planned out for a while. Kellen's been with us for a couple years now," Niall added.
"We have to tell Zayn. We have to move the rest of the members. They aren't safe where they are now," I decided, and Niall agreed. I pulled out my phone to call, but Niall held his hand out for it instead.
"I'll do it. You don't need to get worked up right now," He said, gesturing down at Harry's head still resting on my lap. I knew he was right, so I handed over the phone to him.
He dialed Zayn and then limped back to the room to have the conversation and reveal everything to our leader. I heard a greeting leave his lips before the bedroom door shut again, leaving me alone with Harry once more.
I looked down at his sleeping figure and sighed.
This situation was growing more and more dangerous by the moment, and I wouldn't feel at peace until Harry was at the base, safe with Liam by his side. I knew that Liam would keep his promise to protect him while we went out to finish the job. I trusted him with Harry.
"I will keep you safe," I vowed to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I... I think I love you, too."
I shifted slightly, careful not to wake him, and I rested one of my hands on his shoulder and then leaned my head on the back of the sofa. I stared at the ceiling for a moment, just thinking of how different my life would be if the gang wasn't a part of it.
It was a bit of an unsettling thought, but it also broke into a million wants that I've never had before.
I knew it all stemmed from experiencing the emotions only Harry was ever able to bring out in me.
I allowed myself to indulge in the thoughts, even if they were all wishful thinking, and I closed my eyes, falling into a deep sleep where blood and terror and murder were inevitable parts of life, but...
Love and care persisted.