"Jason!"
Harry heard the nervousness in his father's voice. He had been home for a few weeks now and had just gotten back from therapy about an hour ago, which meant he had been sitting in his father's office drinking tea and talking with him. Talking about nothing and everything at the same time; about life, death, about his mother and about his father's youth. It was what they had been doing every time after Harry got back from his therapy sessions, and Harry enjoyed it. They had just been in the midst of discussing whether religion had had a positive or negative effect on humanity when they had been interrupted by a knock on their door, and Jason came in.
They hadn't heard anything from him since Harry was back. Not a word. Not even a call, an email, a text. Nothing.
Harry turned around and looked at his older brother, feeling no love nor hate towards this stranger in the room. Jason was wearing a black leather jacket and still had his motor helmet in his hands.
"Hello old man. Hey Harry," Jason said with a separate nod for the both of them. "What's for dinner? I'm starving."
"Well..." Samuel looked at Harry, scratching the back of his head. "I guess we were about to order some pizza, right son?" Harry nodded. "I suppose you could join if you-"
"Great! I'll just drop my stuff in my room. Margarita for me. Call me when it has arrived!"
Samuel sunk back in his chair and sighed, shaking his head. "Could the both of you have turned out even more differently?" Harry smiled softly. "Well, I suppose I'll order us a pizza then. Which one do you want to try out this time?"
Harry got up out of his chair and walked around the desk so he could look at his dad's laptop screen, which had a tab of Square pizza's open. He skimmed trough the images and names of the different kinds of pizzas quickly, and then pointed at one he knew for sure he hadn't ordered before.
"Alright," Samuel said, adding it to their cart. "You go read for a bit or something, son. I'll let you know when it's here." Harry nodded, smiled once, and went to his room where he had the fourth book of Wheel of Time laying on his bed. He laid down, checking his phone for any missed texts. There were only a few of Gabe, asking him if he wanted to grab a cup of coffee. He ignored it for now, deciding he wanted to read instead.
It wasn't like he didn't want to go with her. It was more like he was sick of 'grabbing a cup of coffee' with someone. He had done it too often - four times last week alone already - and he didn't even like coffee. He felt like he needed his time alone. It was exhausting to go from only seeing one person for such a long time to spending his afternoons in crowded coffee shops and busy streets.
Or, perhaps it was more like no one's company could really compare to one certain someone's company.
The past few weeks had been difficult for Harry, and strange. For some reason he still waited for someone to wake him up in the morning, and usually got disappointed when it wasn't Louis. In the evening he watched Disney's The Little Mermaid every time before he went to bed but he knew it just wasn't the same as it could have been.
He missed Louis. He actually missed him.
He had never exactly told the police what had happened either. He had never told any names, and said some of them wore masks all the time. One time he had to go and see if he recognized any of the men they had taken into custody he had indeed vaguely remembered most of them. When they had given him Louis' picture however, Harry had felt as if he would almost faint.
Louis Tomlinson, the card had read. Harry had stared at the boy's picture for what felt like hours, drinking in the curves of his nose and the soft fall of his light brown hair, studying his lips and wondered how they would've felt if they would have been pressed against his own...
He had convinced the police to let him go, because he had been sure this boy was nothing more than an unlucky standby who had been taken into custody because of, well, bad luck. He still wasn't sure if they believed him, but for as far as Harry knew they had done as he had asked - more like begged, actually - them to do.
His therapist had described the way he felt as something called Stockholm Syndrome, or capture-bonding. The victim would, as she explained to him, develop positive feelings towards his or her captor, sometimes to the point of defending and identifying with the captors. These feelings were generally developed in light of the danger or risk endured by the victims, who could mistake a lack of abuse from their captors for an act of kindness. A person who was the victim in a hostage situation like Harry had been could develop this, but also people who were for example in an abusive relationship, cult members, incest victims, and even concentration camp prisoners could depict signs of this Syndrome.
This syndrome had found its name in Stockholm. There, during a bank robbery, several bank employees were held hostage in a bank vault while their captors negotiated with police. During this standoff the victims became emotionally attached to their captors, rejected assistance from government officials at one point, and even defended their captors after they were freed from their six-day ordeal.
Harry thought back to when he first heard of this. He was shocked. Could his feelings for Louis actually be possibly described as this - as a syndrome? As a way for him to survive? He had been struggling with it a lot lately, as he had first planned to reach out to Louis after all of this would be over. However, if these feelings he were feeling were merely an act of survival... Would he have felt the same thing for Louis if they would've met in different circumstances? Harry would never know, and it drove him mad. Often, late at night when he was ready to fall asleep, he would imagine different scenarios in which they could've met each other. Perhaps they could've gone to the same school, or gotten adopted by the same family. Perhaps they could've been co-stars in a movie, or been two famous youtubers who would become best friends later on. Maybe they could've both been famous artists or met at a certain festival - there were so many options. However, for now Harry had to listen to his therapist and not reach out to Louis the way he wanted to. He had promised her he wouldn't get in touch with him, but that didn't mean he couldn't visit... Harry closed his eyes and thought back to last Wednesday.
"Bas, could you help me with something?" Harry had asked softly. He did everything softly now. He was still scared sometimes they would know where he was if he wasn't careful. And that if they found him, they would take him back.
"Sure thing boy, what's up?" Bas, his driver and bodyguard said.
"You know your way around London, right?"
Bas nodded.
"If I gave you an address, could you.. Take me there? And not tell dad about it?" Harry bit his lip. He knew Bas was to report everything peculiar back to his father, but he really had to do this. Just this one thing.
Bas had sighed deeply at Harry's request but then he smiled fondly. "Just for this once, alright? Tell me the address." Harry handed him a small piece of paper and gazed as Bas hopefully, frowning however when he saw the other one's smile falter.
"What's wrong?"
Bas licked his lips. "Why.. Why do you want to go here, son? This is a bad neighbourhood, I'm not sure if it's safe. Especially not with your father's car. We'll stand out too much."
Harry look at him, feeling quite hopeless. "But I have to go there! It's... I have to visit someone. See a friend." He bit his lip again. "We don't even have to take the car. We could take the tubes instead." He knew Bas' answer before he even heard it.
"No. Too dangerous. Besides, the nearest station is too far of a walk for that address. We'll just.." Bas sighed. "We'll take my car, alright?"
Harry's eyes lit up and he nodded.
"The pizzas are almost here, I think."
Harry was pulled back from his memory. "What?" he asked his dad who was standing in the doorway.
"Pizza is almost here, 'bout ten more minutes."
"Alright, thanks dad." Samuel nodded and walked away again, softly closing the door behind him. Harry sighed and closed his eyes again.
He had never really thought about Bas's life outside of work. For Harry, Bas being around didn't count as a man doing his job. It counted as someone in his life whom he could trust.
This explained his shock when they walked to the garage and Bas opened the doors of a tiny, worn out car. He didn't say anything and flashed Bas a smile as he got in.
"I know it isn't much," Bas said as he got in himself. Harry wanted to protest but Bas wouldn't hear it. "It's a 2002 Mazda 121 and it's my baby. Had it for eight years already." He patted the dashboard and started the car.
"It's a good car." Harry looked around and fell a smile creep to his lips.
"What are you thinking about?" Bas asked him.
"About how cool it would be to drive a car like this with my self-made money," Harry replied. Bas laughed.
They drove on for about thirty minutes, laughing and talking. Bas told Harry about his wife and two kids, aged seven and ten, and how difficult it had been for them at first to move from the Netherlands to England. They had done this because of Bas his job, but then Bas lost his job. He couldn't go back however; they had just sold their house and got their kids in a good school, so they had to build their life up here, get new friends, get money from... Somewhere. Harry had asked him if Bas could teach him the Dutch language and Bas said he was fine with that. They started immediately, by talking and sometimes translating small sentences and words. Harry was a quick learner.
Harry told Bas about Wheel of Times and how he had been reading non-stop since he had been home. They didn't talk about heavy topics. Harry's kidnapping and their destination were carefully avoided.
Under the surface and though their jokes, Harry felt nervous. What kind of neighbourhood would they end up at? Why was Bas getting more and more nervous too as they got there?
"When we get there.. Do you really want to get out of the car, or can I deliver a message for you?" Bas suddenly asked. Harry looked at him, confusion evident on his face.
"Why wouldn't I want to get out?" he asked Bas.
"Because of your look, Harry. You look like a typical rich boy. They don't get rich people in these streets very often."
Harry felt taken aback. "Oh. Yeah, we'll see, I guess."
Bas stopped the car. "We're here."
"Which one is it?" Harry scanned the street and was startled as a black cat suddenly screeched and ran over the street.
"No, kitty!" A little girl with soft brown hair ran after it. Her hair looks just like Louis' does, Harry thought.
"That one over there," Bas pointed across the street.
It was a shaggy building, dirty and covered in graffiti. It pained Harry's heart to see the building, and he felt guilty as he saw the little girl run inside, sniffling softly because of her cat. She would have to grow up in this... world, while he had been living in his, unaware of the difference in people's lives just a few blocks over.
"Let's go," he said in a stern voice.
"But.. Are you sure? Didn't you want to see someone?" Bas sounded surprised.
"No, I..."
"Where did it run off to, Phoebe?"
That voice.
Harry opened his eyes. He would have recognised that voice anywhere. Phoebe. His little sister's name. He had quickly ushered Bas to drive off after hearing that, and didn't dare to look over his shoulder because he was afraid they would look each other straight in the eye. He knew who was behind him though, in the same street, holding a little girl by the hand while searching for a cat.
He got up from his bed and started pacing the room. He had to do something. He couldn't just... Leave him there. With nothing. He had to help him. Then he stopped in his tracks. His therapist had explicitly stated that he could not, under any circumstances, get back in touch with Louis. Not if he ever wanted to get out of his victim role. Harry started pacing again.
So, all he had to do was figure out a way to help Louis out without getting in touch with him. He needed someone else to be an in-between man. But who could he ask? Who could he trust to help him with this?
Harry stopped walking again. Of course. The answer had been right in front of him all along.
Bas.
Harrysmiled as he walked out of his room to his dad's study, already smelling thepizza. Hm... He was hungry.
---
[A/N:]
*Does happy dance* I am finally back!
Yes!
And I have some better news.. I completely finished writing the story! :D When I have time I will still have to edit the last few chapters though, but at least you wont have to wait ages anymore. God. I feel proud of myself for finally finishing this, but also kind of ashamed because it took me so long. Stupid writers block, I just couldn't get myself back to writing this story for a while. I don't know man.
But yeah, tell me what you thought of this chapter! And stay tuned!
See you next time,
Xx.~
Mirthe