At the age of fifteen, Louis realised he was different from other boys. Up until then, he had only ever really known and spent time with his older brothers William and Albert, and because of his illness, Louis’s social interactions and experiences had been very limited, so the thought that he was different from others - not in the sense of class, but in nature - had never occurred to him before. But in the prestigious world of young nobility at Eton, even after proving his worth by winning a scholarship alongside William and Albert, he felt like an intruder.
Inferior, even. It didn’t matter, that he wore the same school uniform tailored perfectly for his size as everybody else, or that he had the highest grades in his year (it wasn’t a challenge for him really, the classes were surprisingly intriguing), earning him the favour of even the strictest teachers in the school, he knew he had no place there. Louis felt as if he were a shirt turned inside out, the same as everyone else, yet still an outcast.
Despite the long nights Louis had spent with Albert and William, practising the etiquette of high-class society, in his heart he was only a poor, sickly orphan. How could he ever fit in with the sons of counts and dukes, whose core belief was that they were inherently better than everybody else? How could he disregard his own past, pretend like he didn’t still feel the fear in his bones at the sight of violent drunks, or at the sound of children crying, reminding him of the screams of little girls who were taken in the dead of night?
Still, every day Louis kept his perfectly carved facade of a nobleman on, walked through the halls as quietly as possible, with his head down and eyes strained on the clean tiles as he hurried to his next class, where he sat in the corner, as far away as he could without seeming rude or strange (and as the social rules let him).
He only talked if he was spoken to, and never once tried to make friends. It is better this way. No one would like me anyway. But unfortunately, staying quiet and keeping to himself was not equivalent to being invisible; in fact, his silence and shy nature in such a place as Eton where the norm was to be loud, pompous and arrogant only drew unwanted attention to him, the same uncomfortable, prying attention he was trying so hard to avoid.
It started with small accidents, like a classmate bumping into him, or knocking the books and papers out of his hands in the hallway. Although it was annoying, Louis paid it no mind most of the time; still, there was that bugging feeling in his chest that told him something was not entirely right, but he brushed it aside.
'Stop overreacting! It’s nothing, you’re just paranoid.'
Then his homeworks started disappearing. At first, Louis thought he had just misplaced them, or left them in one of his books, but no matter how much he searched in his room, bags and notebooks - he even checked the closet, just to make sure he didn’t miss anything - he simply could not find them.
The first time he went to history class with having only a half completed assignment to hand in (Louis had stayed up all night trying to rewrite it, still he couldn’t finish it in time) his teacher, Professor Morrow not being one to excuse any student lacking in his class, whipped his palms and told Louis to write an extra five pages long essay in addition to the homework they were assigned that day.
Louis gave the academics his all, he really did. He didn’t necessarily like studying, but he enjoyed learning about new things, a trait he had his brother William to thank for. Louis knew he too, had to be more than perfect for the sake of his brother’s plan to work, and the thought of disappointing William, who was so out of his reach, so beyond perfection was enough to form a lump in his throat and send his heart racing with panic.
Each day became harder to bear. Despite Louis’s best efforts, his grades dropped from excellent to barely passing. During the breaks in between classes, the other boys would sit down next to him, asking questions like
“How do you like Eton, Mr. Moriarty?” or “Why do you hide your face, I am certain any six year old would be charmed by your chubby cheeks!”
They would sometimes poke his thighs and stomach or wrap their hands around his biceps, laughing at how skinny and small he was. Louis had never really cared about his appearance for the sake of aesthetics - he knew his looks were mediocre at best. And the fact that he looked significantly younger than other boys his age did not help his feelings of inferiority; but no matter what he did, his body just couldn’t seem to grow into his age.
Louis knew it was not his fault, it was merely the aftermath of years of starvation and an illness that had left him bedridden, sometimes for days, yet whenever he looked into the small, worn down mirror hanging on his plain dorm room wall and saw the purple, almost black circles under his unnatural crimson eyes, or the bumpy scar stretching on his face hidden beneath long, nearly white locks of hair - Louis couldn’t help but frown.
Many people used to tell him how much he resembled his older brother;
“Almost identical to his adoptive brother… How peculiar!” is what bored Ladies hungry for gossip would whisper to each other during tea parties or the occasional balls Lord Rockwell had hosted.
But the longer Louis stared at his reflection and picked it apart piece by piece, searching in it for the familiar, lovely face of his brother, the more he realised: he was not identical to William - he was his ghost.
If William was the illuminating sun, the centre of all that existed then Louis was the moon. Only shining, only seen when the sun disappeared, reflecting back the light, but never having its own.
If that was indeed his destiny then Louis was more than happy to be his brother's ghost. He would gladly give his own life for him, if William asked him to.
On especially boring days, the boys would drag him into a hidden hallway where no one could stumble upon them, and take away his books, rip his papers or kick him in the stomach until he dropped to the ground, his weak body shaking as his heart raced violently in his chest. One of them would take off his glasses while two others held him down. A tall, lanky boy with the looks of a cow - Edward Kingsley, if Louis remembered correctly - was especially keen on pulling his hair and flicking it aside, asking about his scar.
At first, Louis had wondered if he had ever done anything to wrong the other boys for them to act this way, but soon he had to realise that the only reason for the increasing frequency of their violence was that they found his torment amusing. Fun, even.
One time, Kingsley managed to get hold of his diary. Louis had no idea how he could have found it, but as he remembered all the scandalous, disgraceful secrets written in there, Louis’s body froze. He watched, shoulders tense from the breath stuck in his lungs as Kingsley pulled out the small leather bound book from his bag, and swung it tauntingly in front of Louis’s face.
“The boys and I have found something very interesting today… Wonder if you can recognize it…?” Louis remained silent, but inside, his heart was racing. Kingsley snickered. “No? Well, let me read some of it to you, perhaps that will spike your memory.” The tall boy cleared his throat theatrically, then started reading.
“Today was uneventful, as my days usually are. Although the classes are fairly interesting, the more time I spend here, the more I hate Eton… I just wish I were back home, spending my days with brother William and Albert…” He stopped to look at him, a derisive smile stretching on his unattractive face.
“Shut up!”
Louis couldn’t take it anymore. Those thoughts were his deepest, most carefully guarded secrets, not to be known by anyone.
Tears welled in Louis’s eyes as he watched Kingsley reach into his pocket, pulling something small out. The second he saw the glint of silver metal, his instincts kicked in. His body seemed to remember Jack’s training before his mind did, and in the blink of an eye Louis twisted his hands free of the two others’ painful, but weak grip and lunged forward. He reached for Kingsley’s shirt to hold him back, and landed an albeit weak, but effective punch on his left eye that - fortunately for Louis - left the boy distracted.
Louis heard the other two charging towards him from behind, so he quickly grabbed the knife from Kingsley’s hand, who was sitting on the ground, clutching his slowly swelling eye while yelling atrocities at him. In a flash, Louis turned and swung his arm. He couldn’t see properly without his glasses, but the wet sound of a slice and the crimson liquid blooming on the other’s shirt told him all he needed to know.
“Benedict! Are you okay?” the third, smaller boy yelled, but the worry in his eyes soon turned to hatred and he grabbed Louis by the collar, pinning him to the wall. Louis’s head hit the bricks with a loud crack .
“You disgusting degenerate! What have you done to Benedict?! Your so useless, no wonder your brother's don't care what happens to you”
Louis had no time to answer. He felt the air squeeze out of his lungs as his body hit the ground, and a hard, perfectly polished shoe kicked into his ribs forcefully. He covered his head with his arms and tried to curl his body up to block the never ending shower of kicks and punches.
So this was it. Louis shut his eyes tight as his throat tightened in resistance, flashes of light dancing behind his eyelids as he waited for the nightmare to be over. But suddenly, the sound of a distant shout rang through the hallway.
“Someone’s coming!”
“Shit! Kingsley, come on!”
“What about him?”
“Who cares? Just leave him and hurry up!”
The sound of quick, retreating footsteps filled his ears, then it became quieter and quieter, until there was only silence left around him. Louis blinked his eyes open. He sat there for a while, staring at the brick wall in front of him, a thick curtain of fog blurring his senses, then scrambled up onto shaky, unsteady legs. He took a few steps, but his feet stumbled and he fell back down. At least his glasses were within reach. Louis examined the cracks on the lenses then slowly, careful not to cause any more damage, he put it on. Along with his impaired vision the world around him seemed to clear a little bit as well, as he glanced at the floor. He saw smudged streaks of blood, books and torn papers scattered all around in a mess, and-
His diary. That treacherous thing that he should have had burned a long time ago. Louis scoffed, a humourless little thing. It was funny, how fast one thing once so loved, so precious could turn into the object of relentless, all consuming hate.
A teardrop ran down his scarred cheek. God, he was so stupid. So incredibly stupid… Louis hung his head low, hiding behind his long hair as he sat in the empty hallway, the cracks on his spectacles turning the dark building into a scary and distorted fusion whenever he glanced up.
His body was still shaking from the shock and pain of it all, but his brain was too blank, yet too loud at the same time to register anything outside of Kingsley’s words echoing in his mind. Degenerate.
Louis shut his eyes and tried desperately to get it out of his head, but he felt like the word was engraved into his skin, his whole being, out for everyone to see. It hurt. It hurt so much he couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t enough that he was sickly and weak, he had to be, to be a–
“L-Louis?”
William and Albert stopped in their tracks and stared at the familiar mix of black and blond, the boy whom they knew sitting on the black and white tiles in front of them. But instead of the happiness they felt whenever he looked at their little brother, at the sight of his small, trembling form, messed up hair and dishevelled clothes - and God, was that blood on his face? - the only thing the two brothers felt in was an overwhelming sense of panic.
“Louis?” Albert called for the other weakly. “Louis, what’s wrong?”
But his brother did not answer. He just sat there, shaking, tears streaming down his face from those brilliant blood red eyes as he sobbed through ragged breaths.
It took all of William’s willpower not to rush to his brother’s side, but despite the aching alarm in his own heart, he knew he should be careful not to scare Louis.
His mind was racing with all the possibilities of what could have gotten his brother to be in this state, but the overwhelming worry bubbling inside him faded every single thought his brain tried to come up with.
William took a deep breath to clear his head. He had to help Louis and him driving himself mad with worry was not exactly helpful. After looking at his brother for a few seconds William noted the signs of a panic attack, so after a few cautious, but hurried steps he kneeled down and reached out to touch Louis’s shoulder softly.
“Louis, can you hear me? It’s me, William.” The older boys watched as their brother blinked slowly, gaze still far away and hazy with tears, but William knew by the slight furrow in his brows that he managed to catch Louis’s attention. 'Good, I just have to keep talking to him.' William thought.
Louis parted his chapped lips and muttered a quiet “William?” through shallow breaths. William nodded and brushed the light, almost white hair out of his brother’s face, gently caressing his scarred cheek and couldn’t help the relieved sigh that escaped his lips. He was still worried beyond measure, but if he could get Louis to calm down and talk then that was a victory on its own.
“Yes, Louis, it’s me. Whatever happened, you are safe. Me and Albert are here now, alright?” Louis nodded, but it was unsure, his mind still stranded elsewhere, so Albert took his hand and as carefully as he could, wrapped his arms around Louis’s trembling form. They had never seen their brother so out of it before, and it scared William - the thought of Louis slipping into a place so far in his mind where William could not follow.
Louis’s breath hitched and after a few seconds William felt slender fingers grip the back of his shirt as Louis buried his head in the crook of William’s neck. His heart melted at the contact.
“It’s alright, Louis. Everything will be alright, I promise. We're here now.” William whispered into his brother’s hair and let his eyes drop close as a wave of calmness washed over him.
They stayed there, arms wrapped around each other in a tight, comforting, brotherly, embrace, and after a few minutes Albert felt Louis relax into the hug, his body leaning more and more into the older’s.
Slowly, William pulled away and they helped Louis up from the floor. They held onto him until they were sure Louis could stand on his own and even then, William kept his hand on his brother’s arm.
Now that they had a better view of their younger brother, William took the time to examine him and search for injuries that might have needed immediate attention. His eyes scanned Louis’s body slowly: he made note of the clotted blood on the back of the smaller boy’s head - a strong contrast to his light blond locks, and a sight that William knew would haunt him in his nightmares, - the cracked spectacles sitting tilted on his nose, the bruises on his body.
“Louis,” he called for his brother quietly, but it was enough to send an echo through the eerie hallway, “can you walk?”
Louis seemed calmer now, but he was still shaking. His breathing evened out, although Albert guessed he did not trust his voice enough to speak yet, because he only nodded and took a small step, but his trembling knees buckled and he stumbled forward, his head hitting Albert's chest. The older boy grabbed his brother’s arms to steady him. Louis blinked rapidly and his eyes shifted around nervously, looking at everything but his older brothers.
“Ah… I-I’m sorry.” Louis tried to pull away, but Albert didn’t let him. Instead, he grabbed the younger’s arm and swung it over his shoulders. He wrapped his own arm around his brother’s waist softly but firmly, careful not to hurt the other. Now that Albert could touch him, he realised how skinny Louis was. It worried him.
Was he eating properly? Did he sleep enough? A simple glance at Louis’s sickly pale face, dry lips and the dark circles stretching under his eyes answered his question perfectly.
“You don’t owe an apology to anyone. Especially not to us.” William said as he looked down to face his brother, but Louis was still staring at the ground, refusing to meet the older’s gaze. William let out a silent sigh. “Come now brother, let’s get you cleaned up.”
Together they made their way down the empty, rigid corridors, they stopped whenever Louis needed to catch his breath or his legs started shaking again - much to Louis’s disdain who insisted he was “ Just fine.”. When they finally reached a bathroom nearby, but faraway enough not to be seen by anyone, the three boys stumbled inside, and after some fumbling and hushed words they managed to sit down side by side, Louis leaning on the wall for support.
Sunlight shined through the small window above them, making the swirling dust in the air visible and the bleak, dark room a little less unbearable.
For a few minutes it was just the three of them, for the first time in what felt like years. Albert had always kept an eye on his brothers, especially Louis, since they never had time to meet anymore, and because he was worried that his brother would be having a hard time all alone. And he was right. “ Like always.”, a bitter voice in his head said.
Although Albert wished he were proven wrong, he had known even before the school year had started how stressed Louis would be because of the new environment, and the fact that he would be separated from him and William. The thought of their adoptive brother brought a small smile on Albert's lips.
It had taken them both by surprise how fast Louis had warmed up to him after that fateful night when they lit the Moriarty manor up in flames. So much so, that his little brother would sometimes go to him instead of William after a nightmare had roused him from sleep. (Which, if William were to be honest, had made him incredibly jealous.)
But now, as William carefully cleaned Louis’s quivering lips with a wet washcloth and looked at the broken expression on his sweet face, he knew the one his brother needed was not a kind teacher, or Jac, or anyone else. It was them.
“Louis,” he started, making his voice soft as he continued to swipe the blood and dirt off his brother’s face.
“Can you tell me what happened?” Louis, who had finally calmed down enough to speak, pressed his lips into a thin, nervous line, but nodded.
“I-it started a few months ago… there are these boys in my class who, um- stole my homeworks…” William felt his blood begin to boil at how fragile Louis’s voice was, but he stayed quiet, letting his brother, who was usually so reserved, finally share his burdens with someone. “And they would say things to me and, well…” Louis dropped his gaze to the ground, staring at his shoes to hide the welling tears in his eyes.
William sighed. He knew what Louis was keeping from him. It was obvious: the slight limp in his walk, his broken glasses, the footprints on his messy clothes, the bloody scar on his head… It broke his heart. 'And you weren’t even there to help him…' William clenched his fists, the wave of pain in his palms sharp enough to silence the voice in his head.
“Those boys… they hurt you.” It wasn’t a question. Louis nodded. “And they said things to you. What kind of things?”
Louis’s shoulders tensed and he pulled away.
“Louis, what did they say to you?” Albert asked again, softer this time - fearing that his brother might misunderstand their frustration and think it was directed at him - and put his arm around the younger’s shoulders, pulling him back close. Louis looked down to hide behind his long fringe, but William was not having that. He once again brushed the white-blond locks out of Louis’s face, but didn’t try to force him to make eye contact. If Louis wanted space, then William would let him have as much as he needed.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I can only help if I know what happened.” Louis pouted.
“But you always know everything, even before it happens…” The childish tone in his brother’s voice made William’s lips curl slightly as he hugged the younger tighter and a protective urge filled his heart.
“I might have an idea, but even if I am right, I want to hear it from you.” Hearing Louis’s soft gasp, William stroked his hair fondly.
“When it comes to you, dear brother, I don’t want anything to be a guessing game.”
And it was the truth. While William suspected - no, knew - what had happened to his brother, he wanted Louis to be the one to tell him. He wanted to know not because of his observant mind, but because his little brother trusted him enough to confide in him.
One of the first promises William had ever made on the dirty streets of London was that he would never, never let anyone hurt Louis - including himself. So he waited patiently for an answer, because he knew if Louis wanted to share this with him, he would.
The other boy sighed, but turned to rest his head on his shoulder.
“Do you promise you won’t hate me?” Williams and Albert’s heart clenched at the quiver in Louis’s voice.
“We could never hate you.” William shifted, so he could look at Louis properly. He needed him to understand he meant it. Gently, he touched the younger’s chin and tipped it towards him, and when his eyes met those ruby eyes.
After a few seconds of silence, Louis drew in a deep breath and glanced away to look at his perfectly polished shoes.
“At first, they just teased me about… well, my appearance.” Louis started. “They said I look like a child, and that I am ugly and w-weak. And they-” Louis’s breath hitched. “T-they touched my scar- They called me u-useless- and said you don't care abou-about me”
William couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled his brother into a tight embrace and wished he could just erase all of that hurt and cruelty Louis had to suffer, even if it meant he had to dirty his own hands. He will have to, one day anyways.
"You both will hate me"
“Louis, we could never-“
“If I say it out loud… it will become real.” Sadness sweeped from Louis’ voice and when their eyes met, William understood it all. In the midst of all the baseless insults those boys had thrown at him, one stood out. One that was true.
“Is that why you did not fight back?”
“I started believing what they were saying-.”
The two older brothers heart froze. The sudden rush of anger inside them almost made them dizzy as Albert and William stood up, but they didn’t care.
“This is it. I’m going to kill them.” William took a quick step towards the door, but the soft hand grasped around his wrist stopped him. William looked back at Louis who was staring at him, desperation and confusion written all over his pale face.
“William?”
Suddenly, every drop of the fury that boiled inside him all but a minute ago drained, and all that was left was aching sadness. As if the weight of his heart was pulling him down, William sat back. For the first time in a long while, he had no idea what to say, how to comfort his brother. What could he have possibly said? That it was okay and everything would be alright? That it didn’t matter?
No. William could never say those things to Louis, because he knew all too well. He knew the anxiety, the shame that followed wherever he went, the crippling paranoia each time someone looked at him for a little too long, and the thoughts that followed.
In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to have something clever and hopeful to say. But he had nothing.
“I’m sorry, brother.”
Even from behind his knees where his head was buried, William saw the surprise on Louis’s face as he turned towards him. “I am sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me most. I am sorry I- I had no idea you…” Tears welled in William’s eyes as he whispered.
In the silence of the small, sunlit bathroom the only sound filling the air were the soft breaths and anxious heartbeats of the two brothers sitting side by side, both of them too overtaken by the revelations about the people they had thought they knew better than anyone in the world.
Slowly, a two familiar hand grasped around William’s, and just like that, a wall in his heart crumbled. He raised his head and turned to face Louis and Albert, but they were already looking at him.
“Louis, Albert I-“
But Louis and Albert just shook their heads lightly and with a slow, careful movement leaned in for another group hugg
“If I can stay by your side, if you allow me, that is,” Louis started, a shy expression painted on his face. “Then I know everything will be alright. That is all I’ll ever need, brother.”
And inside his burning heart William felt a familiar feeling bloom, although this time, there was something different about it. A difference he did not quite know what to make of yet, so he closed his eyes and moved to rest his head on Albert's shoulder, and with a small smile in his voice whispered:
“Then stay, Louis… That is all we ever needed, all I ever needed.”
A/N- Sorry if this wasn't exactly how you wanted the story, the ending was really rushed.
Words-4589