*NARRATOR'S POV*
"Boo."
Louis' automatic reaction - as is the nature of any human who is caught by an unknown person with force - is to push free of this muscle cage. He's nowhere near the amassed amount of strength needed to break free and ends up fussing in futility. His chest cavity tightens with horrid fear clogging his trachea and his fingernails are close to tearing holes through the fabric of his own sweater.
"Get off!" He squirms and tries twisting himself out of the second brother's hold desperately.
Suddenly the arms are gone and he's falling to the ground in a tumble. His skull is almost beat open with a severe impact with the concrete but his hands brace his fall so he ends up with mere scrapes on his palms. His fringe gets in his eye and he sputters a bit from the lump in his throat finally releasing him.
The laughter doesn't ease up though. Two deep voices are contributing to the same hoard of amusement and Louis feels his resolve get a little hotter.
"What kind of game was that?!" He stands up quickly, dusts off his knees where he's certain there are painful scrapes.
His form was shorter but is anger made him noticeable enough. One of the brothers pauses in his cackling - the one who captured Louis with dark brown hair - but his amusement stayed predominantly on his face.
"The world is uptight enough, darlin'." He says, voice like warm honey with the hidden threat of rose bush thorns when you drank it in. "We've been looking forward to meeting you."
Finally the blond one moves away from the window with a smirk hailing from the seventh pit of Hell that made Louis' tummy swoop. He sits in one of the two chairs opposite a single one, drumming his short fingernails on the steel table patiently.
"What were you hoping to achieve by scaring me?" Louis is certain he's red in the face, not as a result of the two sets of deep green eyes staring at him or the flexing of artful jaws beneath pale skin.
"One of two things." The darker haired one sits as well except he takes the seat Louis is supposed to have, leaving the only available chair next to his deranged brother.
Louis sucks in a sharp breath and steels himself. He will not be intimidated. "One of those two things has to be an extra week in this Hell because that's exactly what you're getting."
The blond one - Louis really has to learn who's who amongst them - smirks with the exposure of two alarmingly sharp teeth. Louis now feels the shiver he neglected to experience with Nick.
"I like him." He says, steeped in humourless appraisal.
Brother Dark Hair - nicknames Grizzly in Louis' head - regards Brother Blond - nicknamed Stark in Louis' head - with a little surprise. Stark says nothing to his brother but that seems to be exactly what Grizzly is expecting. Louis decides this meeting is over.
"I'll file your paperwork then. Have a nice day."
He never should have turned his back on two crazy people in an asylum.
The realisation strikes him the same time as the wall collides with his back harshly. He hisses and surely heard a crack of knuckles somewhere above the blood thumping in his brain. His struggle is made silly by Stark's abrupt appearance.
All the light is blocked out by the taller man's shadow, looming over Louis like a formidable tower. He takes Louis' wrists and pins them to the wall behind his back, creating a painful surge of energy through his veins. Louis opens his mouth to scream and a hand closes over his mouth, crushing that hope.
Stark stares into Louis' wide and terrified eyes like he's playing a mental game with the smaller male. "I'll have to give you something to remember us by for this extra week then, huh darlin'?"
His voice had a strange lisp to it and only when Louis started paying attention to the movement of his lips did he understand why. The cherry plumpness of Stark's lips shifted when he spoke but only minutely, and only so was Louis able to see that all his teeth were filed to a sharp tip.
Louis' fear engulfed him and he tried screaming again but Stark made a ticking sound with his tongue and pressed himself up against Louis' rapidly shuddering body.
"You have a-" His ocean of dark emerald eyes raked down Louis' body. "-tantalising little body, petal. I bet you're as soft as silk under all these clothes."
Just like the shiver from Stark's smile that Louis failed to experience earlier in the day, his life now flashed before his eyes like he thought it would when he walked in here.
"If I'm right-" Louis' shriek was muffled when he felt a cold, calloused pair of hands rub his sides. "-I'll leave a mark that I can claim a week from now. If I'm wrong....-" Stark smiles at the glistening tears at the corners of Louis' eyes. "Well petal, if I'm wrong we'll just have to make the most of what we have here."
Grizzly did the feeling up of Louis' delicate body. Louis has never felt so humiliated or violated even though none of his clothes were removed. He turned his head away when Stark's lips brushed his cheek, the dagger characteristic of his teeth scraping Louis' skin.
His heart was jackrabbiting in his narrow chest cavity, the childhood allergies he had closes up his air pipes so he can't breathe without sounding like a nail scraping a chalkboard. The fear is that powerful, that much more electric when it's all you can feel.
Something about the flesh of Louis' hips caught Grizzly's attention because he grunted and took Stark's hand to the spot as well. Louis felt absolutely disgusted by the greasy palms squeezing the part of him with faint stretch marks and otherwise unveiled soft skin.
He mewled helplessly and got gripped tighter when he tried to break free.
"Guess I was right, darlin'. Look at me!" Stark's hips hurt Louis' pelvic region with the painful amount of strength he used to keep the boy pinned up. His fingers brushed Louis' hair aside, caressed his cheekbone and thumbed at his clavicle. "The most glorious body belongs to someone right under my nose."
Grizzly whispers something that's hardly English to his brother, neither of them looking away from Louis while they communicate. Stark's horrifying teeth come into clear view when he smiles and his brother frowns.
"Don't get greedy, Harry." Stark warns Grizzly. Louis hardly finds the name revealing to be easing on his nerves. "We've got to wait a week before darlin' here sees us again."
Harry continues whispering, this time louder and more urgent like he's personally afraid of losing an opportunity here. Edward - Louis can deduce that Stark is Edward - snaps at his brother for not listening the first time.
"I believe he's too impatient." Edward steps back, taking Louis with him so the boy is practically being dragged. "Sorry, darlin'."
Louis starts to kick up a fit again but once again a whirlwind of strength overcomes him and he is back to being helpless. He screams into Edward's fist and God knows how the guards hear fuck all of his protests outside. He blames the soundproof foundation and windowless door that will now get him raped or murdered by two sadists.
"Hush, sweetheart." Grizzly tells him, seemingly obsessed with Louis' sides as he soothes the goosebumps there and chuckles at Louis' squirming.
"Stop it." Edward throws Louis over the table's surface and Harry holds his hands down. "We have approximately three minutes before the bastards outside come to check on us. If your screaming gets them here earlier, our meeting a week from now will not be pleasant."
Louis gives up hope at that and puts all his faith into the countdown of three minutes. He stays quiet behind Edward's hand and his vision becomes frantically blurry from tears. A shadow cloaks over him and his skin becomes wet at his neck.
He starts to squirm again when he figures out what Edward's doing. He struggles under the weight forcing him into submission, hands scratching at anything he can to get some freedom. Edward is undeterred by all the protests and continues to work his mouth on one spot of Louis' neck.
It's just his lips sucking hard on the sweet-smelling skin, making blood flow faster and more heatedly. When he's satisfied by the swelling and crimson red tint of Louis' skin, his teeth dive in on the same spot.
He hesitates, tips of his sinfully sharp molars hovering over the bruised skin. "My name's Edward, darling. You scream any other name while I do this, and I'll bite harder."
Louis' mouth is released as the hand over it like a forbidding cloud disappears. He forgets about how dirty he feels and releases an ear-splitting scream when half a dozen daggers sink past his skin. They're small and causing that much more pain. The agony increases drastically when no name escapes his lips and Louis chokes on Edward's name as he tries to force it out.
Immediately there's shuffling outside and some shouts from officials. Edward doesn't let up and Louis feels the drip of his blood flowing down his neck.
"Well done, darling."
The monstrous man finally let's him go but his presence is not forgotten because as soon as Louis' let Edward's biceps go, Harry's are there to cover for him. The throbbing hurt in Louis' neck extends towards his heart where acid travels through his veins like lead, and all he can do when Harry leans towards him is hold his shoulders.
In quick succession, the door flies open and bangs against the hard stone walls. Louis' head turns in that direction but Harry's lips are at his neck, gently grazing the mark his brother left and getting blood smeared across his mouth.
"Don't forget about us, petal."
* * * * *
"I swear to fucking Zeus, Louis! You are not going back there!" Niall shouts at the top of his lungs while Louis lies across his own sofa, a quilt over his curled up body and a bandage on his neck.
A thumping from above ensues, from Louis' neighbour recently disgruntled by Niall's hooliganism. Niall yells at them to shut up and sits down next to Louis with a sigh.
"It's not infected, is it?" Niall asks, touching the medical tape gingerly. "Who the fuck knows what those people are carrying."
"It's fine, Ni." Louis assures him, as the paramedic had.
Niall makes an effort to get under the heavy quilt with Louis and cuddle his best friend. Louis groans and turns over so his back is to Niall, but the Irishman is persistent and spoons him from behind anyway. There's a small silence where Louis manages to stop his shivers and feel the cool antiseptic on his neck.
"How far out of line would I be to say I think this is a romantic gesture?" Niall breaks that wonderful silence to prod at Louis' neck.
"I'd say I will introduce to them on the day of their release." Louis elbows Niall's rib but it's harmless because he's too weak for much else.
There's nothing scarier than being caught between two cruel strangers in a room where no one can hear you and you won't be helped. Your screams will be drowned out by their laughter and eventually you'll become paralysed by their dark, sinister gaze.
Louis can still feel their eyes, like they're watching him so intently even now that his back burns from their stare. He shudders and can't help a tear or two from slipping out. He could have lost his dignity today, along with the time left he had in this life of his.
"It's alright now, Lou." Niall holds Louis while he cries and tries to crack some idiotic jokes in the process. "You're not going back there. I won't let you."
As wished upon the stars by both best friends, Louis doesn't need to go back to the Madhouse. Infact he even avoids the off ramp he usually took to get there for the next three days while he goes about his errands.
The first day is the hardest because Louis has to see Nick, deal with the simpleton's inquisition about why the police arrived in a swarm and an ambulance was called twelve minutes after Louis went into the room with the Styles brothers.
"Where are you going?" Niall asked from behind the kitchen counter, an empty bowl of cereal in front of him and a mug of steaming ginger tea in his hands.
"To meet someone." Louis answers briefly as he swings on a sweater and pauses for a beat to hear the rustle of wool on the bandage on his neck. He ties a scarf carefully around his neck to conceal it.
Middleston is a very small town with a population of less than five hundred, where the weather was pathetic and small minds bred like rabies. Louis knew a handful of intellectuals in this town and that's only because they were here to waste away their retirement days.
Everyone knew about the incident at the Madhouse. The Middleston Daily printed three articles from three uninformed, biased journalists in one issue. Louis was either approached by reporters for a photo or comment, spat at behind his back because they thought he was an incompetent homosexual, or fawned over by extremists who wanted to know how the Styles brothers ever let him go.
The walk from his complex to the cafe he is scheduled to meet Nick at is slow and many people stop their loud banter to point and murmur. He stares intently at the ground while he walks. The fog of an early morning is still lifting and not many kids are out on the streets yet, so Louis can go to his destination without being hassled for some treat or the other.
"Lou!" He is greeted by an excited but seemingly concerned ex-colleague as soon as he walks into the coffee shop.
Next, Nick is embracing him and Louis winces from a too tight squeeze. He smiles emptily and slides onto a stool where his feet dangle off the sides.
"How're you doing?" Nick asks, rubbing his thumbs over his double cappuccino cup.
A waitress comes to take their food orders for this chilly morning and she avoids all eye contact with Louis. He's become a kind of revered outcast - the paradox is not lost on him - because of his recent tragedy.
"Bacon, egg and cheddar wrap with Kamikaze Latté." Louis says his order eloquently, as he has been for a year now.
Nick orders some kind of breakfast omelette with creamed mushrooms and Louis just gathers foam off the top of his hot beverage with a plastic spoon.
"I'm doing fine." He manages to lie fluently. "How about you, Nick?"
"Okay, I guess. I'm a little worried to be honest." He admits, blooming colour reaching his cheeks.
"They're in solitary lockdown, aren't they?" Louis refers to the pair of criminals who had him at his weakest. "You'll be fine."
"I'm worried about you, Lou."
"I'm fine, Nick." Louis picks up his stainless steel fork and begins the process of picking at his food. "Thanks for caring."
"If you need anything-"
"I have a best friend for that." Louis snaps rudely, cursing himself mentally when he sees how Nick's face falls.
His fingers start to twitch again, the scars on his pale fingers being relived.
"I'm sorry, Nick. I just....-" Louis searches for a way to make this right. "Maybe I do need that visit to the fair."
It's a magical transformation the way Nick's smile picks up. A recovering mental patient should not be continually shot down when all they deserve is a fair chance. Nick's not that bad of a guy.
"You don't have to, Louis." Nick shoots himself down. He hates promises made on pity.
"I know." Louis makes an effort to smile. "I'm still asking."
Nick and Louis chat about a small circle of topics for another fifty minutes at the breakfast counter. They eat savoury croissants and plan a trip to a bookstore downtown tomorrow, while their fair date is scheduled in Nick's little brown journal for later in the week.
"I'm gonna go." Louis states softly, getting off his high stool with his coffee travel mug in one hand. "I have some stuff to do for uni."
"Oh yeah. Sure, okay. Can I walk you?" Nick got up too, standing a few inches taller than Louis.
"I'm alright. Thanks though."
Louis sips from his travel mug on his walk home from the coffee shop. The fog has lifted to reveal a healthy bout of sunshine falling over their cosy town. Every shop was open and children were out everywhere, a few smaller ones bumping into Louis in their haste to have fun.
He reaches the apartment complex after six minutes of walking on a pale white pavement. His fingers shake a little while he jiggles the keys of his flat, feeling the cold streak of his back. He doesn't realise he was running to get away from vulnerability until he fell to the linoleum floor inside his home, head in his hands and legs folded.
His shaking form was wrapped up in Niall's arms after moments of being alone. He babbles about never forgetting what they felt like against him, holding him helpless.
"Let's go for a nap, Tommo." Niall helps Louis to his feet and takes him to his bedroom, pulling the covers over his best friend so he was comfortable.
Louis got through a two hour nap before waking up feeling less terrified and more unresolved. He was not going to let this horror haunt him for the rest of the week until he was once again caught in the threshold of two criminally insane dominant males. Society's screwed him over too many fucking times so he does what Niall will slaughter him for doing.
"Hey, Eleanor?" Louis holds the phone to his ear while he shuffles through some of his patient files.
"Hey, Lou. How you doin'?" She asks, concerned to a mild degree.
"Fine." He sips from his tea mug. "Patients in solitary get visiting hours, right?"
"Louis-"
"I want to make an appointment."
"For anyone but the Styles brothers, sure."
Louis stops his shuffling and folds his knees up to his chest. "I want to see them, El."
"I don't think that's wise, Lou. Dr. Murs is in charge of patient visitation and he's stressed out about losing you as an assistant so-"
"Is he in today?"
"Well, yeah."
"Put me through to him." Louis bites his thumb nail. Niall is going to drown him in ginger tea before slaughtering him. "I want to apply for a permanent post."
Louis has to spend a period of thirty minutes convincing Eleanor that he's not reacting out of PTSD. He also stares at the same reflection on his faded laptop screen where his neck's bandage was visible in epic clarity. He chews his lip while he forces himself to decide that this is not a bad idea.
"Louis?" Dr. Murs comes on the line after Eleanor changes a dial on their massively hideous switchboard.
"Hey, Dr. Murs." Louis sits forward in his chair at home, pen twitching in his right hand. "I have a request. Two, actually."
"Go ahead."
He tells the doctor the lighter of the two propositions. The job offer is easier to swallow and Dr. Murs asks a series of questions about whether he's certain this is what he wants.
"Yes, Sir. I've been an intern there long enough to know all our patients." He assures the worried doctor in charge.
His visit request is less desirable and he spends two hours telling Dr. Murs that he is perfectly healthy and will agree to security terms. He ends up getting the visit for two o'clock the next day and that's an hour before his contract is signed at the Madhouse. As an intern he got no money but his salary will be decent, coupled with the allowance his rich CEO dad gave him monthly he will manage a decent life here.
"What you doin' up so late, Lou?" Niall walks in from the hallway of bedrooms in boxers and socks.
Louis decides to keep his latest decision and employment a secret from his best friend until he's sure Niall isn't going to drown him in ginger tea before slaughtering him.
"Got some stuff to complete for uni." Louis clicks the button on his pen.
"You've been at it for a century now, Lou. When do you graduate?"
"I have a thesis to write and an exam to ace first, Ni."
Niall hums, plonking down on the couch violently enough for the entire contraption to shift backwards. "How was your date this morning?"
Louis stops scribbling notes down from his laptop screen in the dim light of his desk lamp. "It wasn't a date."
"Alright then, how'd it go?"
"Fine."
"That's it?"
"Yeah." Louis nods. "We're going to the bookstore tomorrow."
"Very sexy."
"Niall." Louis throws his hands up with a sigh. "Not everything is about dating, you know. He's a nice person and-"
"Is he the creepy guy who-"
"Yes but he's not creepy anymore."
Louis is left alone after Niall finishes a plate of Oreos and squeezes his shoulders in a brief hug. He falls asleep at the brink of dawn at his desk, pen marks left on his cheek and worry lines from his disturbing dreams leaving creases on his forehead. He wakes up to an empty flat and a note stuck to his arm from Niall.
'Your mom called yesterday. Call her back, Lou. - Niall'
Louis knows exactly why Niall decided to leave a note and not tell him this in person. He hasn't spoken to his mother in months, and couldn't stand being around her for years before that when she started bringing strange men home. She got custody of Louis in the divorce but he always found reason to live with his dad instead.
"Shit." He rubs the palms of his hands on his face and brushes his hair back with shaking fingers.
The silence of his apartment is begging him to pick up the answering machine and find out what she wants from him now. Money? A place to live? Protection from a drug lord? Who knew and he planned to turn her down no matter what it was.
Since it was that simple, he got himself up and dialled her number on his handheld. It rings for five rounds before someone picks up, enough time for Louis to take three long breaths and circle his small table under an antique mirror three times.
"Louis?" Her breathless response annoys Louis to multiple conclusions that whatever she was doing isn't something reputable.
"You called yesterday. What did you want?" He gets straight to the point. Any prolonged communication with his mother was bound to have a sour ending.
"Son, not everytime I call is because I want something from you."
"Then why call?"
There's some loud rustling, possibly of paper or cheap clothing, before she speaks again. "Middleston's town asylum, the Madhouse to its local residents, has seen some riveting news events in the past two days. Resident psychology student, Louis Tomlinson, was-"
"Stop it." He's forced to make her end her reading once he gets what she's playing for. "Did you tell Dad?"
"No." She immediately quips, voice shaky like that of a heroin addict who has gone a day too long without a fix. "I won't if you-"
"I knew it!" He shouts, aggravated and the prickle of tension makes his neck itch. "You always call when you need something."
"Lou, son." She begs of him slowly. "This is different, I swear."
Louis holds back any cunning and smartly ruthless comments he has for his mother. He doesn't need this negativity right now. "What is it?"
"I'm leaving the state for a new place upstate." She explains, hushed and low-key. "I need a place to sleep for two nights."
He's at his end with his mother but if she's moving upstate she's further away from him and his father so helping her get there can't be a crime. Plus, her use of 'sleep' instead of 'stay' or 'crash' has the ability to tug on the strings of any child's heart.
"Yeah, okay." He nods even though she can't see him. "When are you arriving?"
"Friday." She smiles, breathing an exhale of relief at her son not shunning her entirely. "Thank you, Lou."
"I'll pick you up from the train station at ten?"
"Yeah."
"Alright. Bye then."
After slamming his Samsung handheld cordless phone into the wrong slot three times, he finally gets it right. Louis releases a frustrated groan and goes to take his shower, hopefully to get his thoughts in order before he takes on the day.
He grabs his Radox shower gel that smelt of mint and vanilla, medical aid bag for disinfecting the injury on his neck through ver batim of the paramedic's directions. Standing in front of the brightly lit bathroom mirror, he peels the tough piece of white bandage off his skin and flinches whenever crusted blood stuck to either medium.
The hickie is a brilliant red and if it weren't for the teeth marks, it would have been passed on for an overzealous intimacy act. Unfortunately for Louis, when he pressed down on one of the puncture marks a rivulet of red rolled down his neck. He watched it soak his shirt and one more fall a little further.
In the shower, masked by scented steam blowing up around him and steaming up all reflective surfaces, Louis scrubs the mark on his neck. He hopes to get the vindictive traces off it, the awful feeling off creeping up his body and the shivers of a monstrous man to disintegrate.
He can see those stormy, broken dark eyes brimming with an irreparable soul staring down at him like he was an object of prey. He felt Harry's hands on his hips and the rough glide of inexperienced fingers squeezing his flesh.
By the time his shower is complete he's effectively scrubbed off a good percentage of any healing scab formation on his neck and turned his skin to a flushed pink shade. He redresses the gauze on his neck carefully and as instructed for whenever leaving his home, wraps a cotton bandage all the way around his neck like a medical necklace.
In his bedroom he dresses for a cold day out with unappealing jeggings, a loose white long-sleeved shirt that met his thighs and black denim jacket. He wore a scarf to hide the bandage party around his throat as he was in no mood to deal with enquiries about it.
First was his meeting with Nick at an old bookstore where the owner sang pirate songs and preached about the end of the world. He got in his Audi and drove down the streets towards the quaint building squashed between a pub and Sunday church.
"You're the kid with the vampire bite, right?" The aged but definitely not senile male owner told Louis the second he walked in.
Louis walked away down the nearest isle in the hopes of escaping such an inquisitive and ill-mannered elderly.
"Hey!" No such luck for him as the crone followed him past the Religious texts down to Recipe books. "I'm talkin' to you, boy."
Growing sick of this man's game, Louis decides to give the townspeople of singular thinking what they want. "Yes, I'm the one with the vampire bite."
The older man with a greasy white vest, sauce stains down the front and foul-smelling pair of joggers on. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and makes a sick nasal sound. "Really?"
"Yeah." Louis knows men like this and takes a step forward to assert the fact that he's not in for this bullshit. "Didn't even hurt. Wanna know why they let me live, Arnold?"
The greaser's face falls when he hears his name from the boy he's never met before. He doesn't remember that his name tag is stuck on the back of his cash register and Louis took a free wild guess that it would actually be his and not an employee. Arnold starts to believe that Louis' actually part of some bloodthirsty cult, such blue eyes can't exist on a regular joe.
Arnold moves away immediately after the bell above the door jingles from another customer entering. Louis laughs to himself while he browses some titles of faded book spines, at last distracted from the horrid feeling welling in his abdomen.
Old Latin music played through the PA system, a taste Louis hasn't been in the presence of for a long time. He moves further into the store and pauses by a Criminal History isle that seems to disappear into more shelves. His height is his disadvantage as his attempt at taking one book titledMiddleston's Murder Archive, he ends up toppling over three other irrelevant novels.
Arnold gives Louis a very disapproving glance but doesn't have the guts to warn Louis about anything. He stays stationed behind his cashier's till with a crucifix nailed up beside the clock on a mantle.
"Hey, Lou." Nick pitches up just after Louis manages to reshelf the books he dropped.
Louis glances over his left shoulder, scrunching up his nose when a nauseating feeling jolts up to his brain from the mark on his neck. "H-Hi."
"Are you okay?" Nick takes the book from Louis, the one he intends to purchase and immediately drops it at the feel of dust. "Ugh."
"I'm fine." Louis picks the object carefully and refrains from holding it against him. "It's not all that pleasant to be vertically challenged."
Nick's laughter bounces off the rickety shelving and he follows Louis towards the ancient languages section. "Who told you vertically challenged was a term?"
"My high school Math teacher." Louis just notices the basket in Nick's hand, dark purple and scraped at the edges. He also notices that Nick is holding the basket with a tissue. "What's with the basket?"
"Felt bad not to take one." Nick holds it out for Louis to put Middleston's Murder Archive in it. "Lou, can I tell you something?"
His tone of the question is a bit doubtful but Louis' as curious as it gets so he nods and makes sure to meet Nick's eyes to convey that he's sure. "Okay."
"I worked the night shift last night." Nick says as a start, a weak one where he bites his lip to keep out his need to just stop. "Dr. Murs sent me to the um....solitary unit."
Louis knows immediately where he's going with this. Half of him wants to beg Nick to just stop because he already has to face the demons in his life today, but the other half (and maybe a bit more) wants to hear what happened after his police statement was given in.
"They asked for you." Nick knows Louis is looking at him but he can't bring himself to return the gaze. "Not very nicely either."
"How do you mean?" Louis tries to make himself appear otherwise occupied by thumbing the ragged edges of a book about sea monsters.
Nick shakes his head and starts to walk away. It would have stunned someone who didn't know that, like the finger twitching, this was another one of Nick's nervous ticks. Louis sighs and jogs after him, halting the fleeing individual by stepping in front of him.
"Tell me." Louis demands.
"Uh.....-" Nick scratched the side of his head. "Th-The big one?"
Louis held his breath, eyes searching Nick's in his study of this man's information. "Harry?"
Nick nods vigorously, then slows down until it looks like a badly oiled machine. "He asked for his petal and I asked what he meant. That was stupid, I know. I was just curious-"
"It's okay, Nick. I understand." Louis tells him, the word 'petal' reeling madly through his head.
"So um....he said his petal had the best taste in the world and the um- the other one?"
"Edward."
"Edward. He said something in Harry's ear that made him really quiet. Edward told me to tell you that he's looking forward to seeing you again."
"How'd you know Harry was talking about me?"
"Who else would they be talking about?"
Louis adds another con to his list of pro's and cons regarding being re-employed at the Madhouse. He also doesn't understand what was 'not nice' about the way Harry asked for him, unless Nick was leaving something out. In that case, he doesn't really want to know anymore.
He manages to steer their future conversation topics towards things he's comfortable with. Certain sports, foods and antiques all make that list. Soon, it's thirty minutes before two and he has to build up the nerve to once again step into the Madhouse.
He's not so sure of himself once he's parked outside in his usual spot, gripping the steering wheel of his car until his knuckles are page white. Lip bitten raw and thumb nail worked down to a stub, Louis gets out into the damp atmosphere. He's a damn psychology student, and he should be able to put up a front.
Walking up to Eleanor's desk is not the same. He doesn't go to the white cubicle with his name on it and doesn't get to take a mug from the staff lunchroom. He just about manages a wry smile for the receptionist who looks at him sympathetically, before making him sign the visitors' form.
"Dr. Murs wants to see you first." She tells him once the sheet is signed and returned. "In his office, please."
Louis holds the lunch bag with Dr. Murs' wife's casserole dish tightly in his left hand, eyes glued to the ground so he doesn't step in any undesirable substances as he did in his first week here. He's mastered many dissuasion, persuasion and escape skills because of this place.
"Louis? Have a seat." Dr. Murs let's him in and gestures towards a plastic-covered seat in his closed office.
He knows what's coming and he'd like to have the first say. "Please don't try to change my mind."
"Are you afraid I might succeed then?"
Louis scowls at his mentor. "No. I'm sure you, along with every news reporter in town, doesn't understand why the Hell I'd go back in there but this is something I need to do."
He's not lying at least. He needs to know why he isn't dead, why he's called Petal and why there's only a mark on his neck. If he has to fake a thousand smiles and become a whole new person in that meeting to get his answers, so be it.
"You're a strong mind, Louis. That's why I'll okay this." Dr. Murs gets up and slides a dusty brown folder towards Louis. "If you feel the same as you feel now when you get out, the job is yours."
Louis doesn't breathe his sigh of relief too quickly.
"This time there'll be security guards in the room with you." Dr. Murs is walking alongside him towards the staircase where they'll travel four floors underground to the solitary compartment. "There are cameras and voice recorders already installed. Two guards in and two out, you'll be able to see them through the bars."
Well, if he's getting this meeting by bending people's expectations of him, the least he could accept is their terms. He's honestly grateful for all this protection. The Styles twins tried something before they even knew his last name, now that they've got a good look at him he's horrified to imagine what they're capable of.
"Here we are then." Dr. Murs puts his hand on a solid steel door with a clear glass pane through which the two guards standing outside can see through. "They're in here. Be careful, Lou."
Louis gives him a short-lived smile and let's one of the African-American guards unlock the heavy latch. He stays close to one of them and can't help closing his eyes to take a deep, shaky breath when the lock slides smoothly out of place.
This is it, he thinks to his racing mind that's beginning to pulsate with tension. I'm already crazier than the people in here.
Guard Number One walks in ahead of Louis and the blaring fluorescent lights are buzzing vengefully above their heads, contributing to Louis' headache. The second guard walks in behind Louis and once the one in the front moves aside, he gets to look up at those awaiting him.
Louis prepares himself for the performance of his life.
"I missed you, Petal."