Even a baby can be dangerous when given a sharp scalpel.
*NARRATOR'S POV*
It began where the conventional and cliché stories all began: high school.
Louis was eighteen and ready to graduate with a month left of secondary education books before the big leagues, aka college. He was a straight A student without nerdy glasses and the bullies.
He had a routine. He woke up at 05h59 and shut off his alarm before it went off. After a shower and brushing his teeth, he had a breakfast of Cheerios or buttered toast if he's feeling frisky that morning.
He lived alone, no parents or siblings to pester him about the lack of a partner or friends because they were dead. Tragic train wreck when they all went into a subway for the first time, that accident is also the cause of a malicious scar in his side.
Louis took the bus every morning to school or to the pet shop he worked in. He genuinely loved his school because nobody ever touched him, it was a firm 'to each their own' basis around here.
But then November 11th came around.
It was the perfect winter's day in Middleston. The snow met the icy tar and pavement like old friends after a drought. It really was a drought in Louis' mind, he's missed the snow flakes so much. He enjoyed walking extra slow to school on days like this, waking up a half hour earlier just to make up for the time.
Their school was open for today, since the snow just started, but would probably be closed tomorrow. That's great because Louis needed an extra day for his Trig test.
The principal droned on about their morning announcements that Louis didn't listen to. It would appear in the circulars they handed out at the admin anyway, so he kept his earphones in playing Ariana Grande's Santa Tell Me.
French. Algebra. English. He grabbed those books from his locker and neatly slid the excess ones back in. People called him metrosexual for being so neat and tidy, taking care of himself and never letting go. He was gay though. Happily gay and lonely.
He felt the stiff silence fall across their hallways but chose to ignore it. The Populars probably arrived. Damn idiots with money and no brain. God was giving people intelligence while they were probably eating in the back.
Taking his earphones out, he slotted them into his satchel and grabbed a blank notebook. One of five in his locker. His first class was in the building next to this one, so Louis had a six minute walk ahead of him before he got to his seat at the back of French class.
He estimates about two songs can be enjoyed that walk - maybe one and a half if you ignore the bridge and final chorus. Popping his headphones back in, Louis begins the trek to Building B. He has to cut across the parking lot to get there in time to be there before the teacher, which he does.
Halfway complete his journey, Louis decides to look up and shut out the catchy rhythm of Karma Chameleon. In the brief fifteen second gap, he catches a glimpse of a fairly pretty female exiting a Range Rover from the passenger's side. There's no smile to the hidden driver or wave, she just stomps off so that's probably a parent of hers driving.
Louis' ridiculous chuckle is cut short when the second door opens and the person previously behind the steering wheel exits hastily. Another fifteen seconds is spent observing this new person.
Definitely not her father, is Louis' first thought. He tightens his hand around the strap of his Totem backpack and takes in this perfect stranger's features.
On the outside he is less than approachable but not revolting, at least not to Louis. Louis knows revolting.
This boy - man? Maybe he's in his early twenties - is wearing a 'SWEARING IS BIG AND CLEVER' hoodie with black jeans that are ripped at the knees. Louis never understood that style. Not much can be seen of his face from this distance, except that he has perfectly pale skin and dark eyes. Louis can't see any tattoos, mainly because his body is entirely covered by cloth, but if the furious expression on his face is anything to go by, it's safe to say this individual is not friendly.
His hair, Louis decides is his favourite feature. It's straight and stopped at his shoulders but curled a little at the tips. It was damp from a fresh wash and Louis stops thinking about what brand of shampoo he thinks this stranger uses. So he's the girl's boyfriend. That would make lots of sense. He's attractive, yes, but Louis knows his boundaries.
Louis watches, forsaking another half minute and a song change, as he gives girlfriend something. Her cellphone. He says nothing to her and nor she to him. He storms back to the awaiting vehicle with powerful strides, knocking several students and a teacher in the shoulder.
Louis recognises that teacher and panics. His French teacher.
Before he can glance down at his watch and take off in a sprint that will have him shaving off free time, he manages to unintentionally capture his subject's attention. The man from the Range Rover just glances to his left, glowering at everyone and everything, and his stormy orbs get hooked on Louis' peaceful blue ones.
Louis turns pale, maybe even green, from the persistent staring and steps back like the added distance will put his mind at ease. It doesn't only because the man across the yard from him stops walking just to tilt his head curiously at Louis.
Fighting the urge to collapse right then and there, Louis swallows and lifts his fingers just a little to signal a short wave. An awkward, stiff wave that has the newest of Louis' acquaintances frowning deeper. That is the end of all Louis' courage today and he decides to quit while he's not exchanging words. His French teacher is a few feet from him so he simply turns on his heel and takes off down the open hallway to the correct classroom.
The stranger doesn't haunt Louis' mind for the rest of the day, but he regrets that he wasted so much time that morning on him. Waving at a complete stranger, officially Louis' dumbest move.
Across town, at AKA Bar where lone rangers from everywhere and cross country travellers all come to get lost in the booze of life, Harry was drowning his second Scotch - no rocks - in his usual seat. Two Scotches and two vodka shots were his limit.
Earlier that day he and Gemma had fought. It was right after breakfast when she forgot her assignment in the basement - that's where she usually did her projects even though it was Harry's room - and went to fetch it. She uncovered one of Harry's less desirable hobbies wrapped in a few dog towels and pushed under his bed.
He remained calm and asked why she was snooping around when all she had to do was get her damn stuff. She argued that wasn't the point and even shoved him a little.
Shoved.
Harry got angry then because nobody's touched him so angrily or with such intent in years. He didn't hit her, because she was still his sister. Simply, he dragged her - kicking and protesting - to the basement and explained exactly why he bashed the head of thirty-something year old man in.
It was no thrilling experience or adrenaline-induced fit. He was tightly wound all the time and felt ready to combust painfully if he didn't release some knots.
This was one way: torture. Each time he did it he felt lighter and more at ease. He visited lady friends sometimes but they didn't work out too well and neither did the slutty boy-men. He fucked the way he felt. Hard and rough, ignoring the pained protests of his sexual partners. He was merciless because nobody gave him mercy, granted him the benefit of the doubt so why should he be any better?
"Anything else, sweetie?" The kind bartender he never learnt the name of asks as she wipes her hands.
He shakes his head and drops a flap of bills before leaving. Thinking about where to go and what to do, Harry let's his mind wander to this morning at Gemma's school. Where he saw Blue Eyes. He knew they were blue because they were striking in appeal all the way from across the bloody parking lot.
It was odd, what happened then. The boy waved and ran off like he was telling Harry later we'll meet. Maybe they could, Harry would like to entertain the idea that this particular boy isn't a total waste like everyone else. He looked like someone who will make a difference, try hard to accomplish something. Yet he was swathed in sweet innocence. Nobody who has been to the dark side of life and returned looks like that, full of naivety and ignorance.
Harry liked people like that. He loved people like that.
He'd have to take care of Gemma, make sure she really followed through with her promise not to mention anything to anyone about his cravings for overkill.
So that's how it begun on November 11th.
Harry didn't stalk Louis, but did insist it was fate that made them stumble across each other almost everyday. Louis was nervous at first, blushing often uncontrollably like when they 'bumped' into each other at Tesco the day after the parking lot incident. Harry says it that way because it wasn't at all a coincidence, he had been parked outside Louis' house for two hours waiting for him to make a move.
He had underestimated Louis' observational skills because Louis knew he was there all that time, and it was oddly flattering to him. People like Louis were rare, bordering on extinct. People didn't like this kind of attention, but Louis wanted all the attention he could get from this beautiful stranger.
Harry stuck to the pasta isle when Louis was in the frozen good section. The boy knew he was there, just smirked and moved along like he didn't notice. Harry was practically screaming 'See me!'.
Eventually Louis genuinely forgot he was being watched and strolled into the candy isle for more Cadbury, when Harry decided to confront him. He always got what he wanted, and didn't bother with whether he was forward or not. He wanted to be noticed now by this pretty boy, so he'd be able to say there was some semblance of claiming.
Hello."
Harry came across as too abrupt at first, shocking Louis into dropping the slabs in his hands. It was the most uncomfortable few minutes of Harry's life, and to this day he wishes he'd have said something else or smiled at least.
He waited for Louis to pick up what had fallen, pained frown on his forehead all the while.
"Uh. H-Hi." Louis stutters.
Harry tilts his head to the left, just like he had in the parking lot. "What's your name?"
Louis was a coward, and he was playing a game too big earlier by being stupidly oblivious by act. "L-Louis. Tom..linson. Louis Tomlinson."
"Styles."
"What?"
"Harry Styles. My name."
"Oh!" Louis might have created crumbs in the pasta packet he was holding. Damn fettucini. "You have a nice name."
Harry smirks to expose one of two dimples and absorb the nerves Louis sent out in hoards. The boy's cheeks turned pink and he couldn't bite his lip to suppress his smile fast enough.
"Are you here with someone?" Harry asks for formalities.
"I think you know that answer, Harry." Louis seems to be going off some confidence reserves, dumping everything in his shopping basket gracelessly.
Harry's taken aback by that answer. "You are.....observant."
"Thank you."
There was something Harry still didn't understand. Why was this Louis so calm and not running away, piercings screams following him? He was standing in front of Harry with that permanent blush and soft smile that made Harry so fucking hungry for it.
"I don't understand." Harry keeps his gaze following Louis' even when the boy looked away. He was fully enthralled by this perfect shade of blue.
Louis doesn't say anything, deepening his smile into a cute laugh. Harry wants to grab him and do an obscene amount of dirty things to him because of that sound.
They were both too forward about this, both being such different but so similar in personalities. Harry was going to take and Louis was willing to give everything. From Day One.
"How do you go to school?" Harry blurts.
Louis frowns at the odd question but answers anyway, unable to resist the cloak of deepening hard emotions in those emerald eyes. "Bus. I walk sometimes."
Harry nods, hands shoved so deeply into his pockets that it should hurt but it doesn't. He never feels pain, never could. Never has he wished that he could though, having congenital analgesia is the best thing that's ever happened to him. Now, he's a victim of passion. Passion for pain and suffering, loves to witness it come from other people so he gets a glimpse of what it should be like. When they scream, it's a thick steam that comes out through their mouths. He lives for that steam, the moment of a person's final gasp.
Upon looking up, he sees that Louis isn't there anymore. He panics for the first time in a long time, glancing around him frantically.
What if someone else found him? Snatched up Louis' glorious attentiveness while Harry was lost in his head. He doesn't want that, not before he got his chance. He took large strides to cover the ground of the store, and found Louis at the cashier, smiling at the tired man behind the till. Harry hated the scene.
"What happened?" He doesn't touch Louis, but he still stands as close as he can to him.
Louis is surprised by Harry's sudden turn up and takes a moment after his gasp to calm his breathing.
"Louis?" Lou. Harry wanted to call him Lou.
"You uh...stopped talking."
Louis paid for his groceries and accepted the stocked packet. Harry followed suit, not done with this conversation yet after glaring at the cashier. He hated him. Bob is what the name tag read. Fucking Bob. Louis was supposed to be with him but this idiot was smiling too long, too much and it kept Louis there.
"What?" Harry let's the door hit his arm, not flinching or hissing because it didn't hurt.
"You stopped talking after I answered you. Looked like you were a thousand miles away so I left." Louis shrugs, walking in the direction of his home with Harry in tow.
"Oh." Harry curses himself mentally. "Well, I want to drive you to school."
"That's very kind." Louis smiles, a real smile that Harry commits to memory. "But we don't know each other."
"I want to know you."
"I would like to know you too, Harry."
"So let me drive you to school."
Louis actually laughs at him, not in a rude way. "You're cute."
"What?"
"You're cute. A bit hasty, but cute."
"Why am I hasty?"
"Because you're offering to drive me to school when you don't know me. I could be a kidnapper."
Harry does laugh at that, but it held too much truth on the opposite end to be funny for too long. "You're not a kidnapper."
"Yeah but-"
"Let me drive you to school, Louis."
"No, Harry."
Harry's jaw clenches up and it's an admirable feat of beauty that Louis wants to touch, caress over and over.
"Will you think about it?" Harry asks instead.
"Um....maybe."
"How long will you take?"
Louis crosses the road laughing over his shoulder. "Goodnight, Harry!"
Harry deflates from his unexplained defeat and retires to his car. He tried, and he'd try again the next day.
He waited in his Range Rover the entire night for fucking Bob to get off his shift. When Bob finally did, it was two in the morning and Harry has never had such a lazy victim before. He was almost going to give Bob a head start just to mock him as he ran.
Harry got him in the back of his van with chloroform wrapped around his mouth and nose. When he got home, he stripped down to his boxers and put the stove on. He used his special pot and filled it with water and olive oil before setting it to boil. Harry watched until the first bubble rose and popped, then he went to get Bob from the car outside.
His playroom was next to his bedroom, not hidden in anyway but always locked with a double bolt. Bob was strapped down before Harry lifted the cloth and slapped him, urging him to wake up faster. The man stirred and groaned from a heavy head.
"What- Who the fuck-"
"Shut up." Harry growls. "Open your mouth."
Naturally, Bob keeps his lips sealed and added a challenge for Harry. He used dental clips to open Bob's mouth and keep it that way.
"Know why you're here, Bob?"
Bob can't shake his head or say anything, he's already choking on his own saliva.
"You're here because I met someone today. Yesterday, actually. He's beautiful and I'd like to know him better. Me. Thing is, you were chatting him up too which isn't allowed, Bob. I don't like people touching my things."
Harry turns his back to pull out the tray of instruments he's collected over the years, humming a familiar tune as he picked up the scalpel. He rinsed it in alcohol and went back over to a squirming and sobbing Bob.
"Stop crying. Be a man." Harry rips open Bob's uniform down the center like they do in autopsies.
Cursing when he realises he's forgotten the customary apple, Harry leaves the room to check on the pot and grab one from his suspended fruit basket. He rushes back to Bob, the full-on hysterical man with tears and snot messing his face.
"Tell me, Bob." Harry straps his wrist down, aiming for that section first. "What part of you wanted Louis when you saw him?"
Harry drops the scalpel for a bigger kitchen knife, sharpened to a point and Harry's favourite instrument for times like these.
"Your dick?" He presses the tip of his knife to the flat front of Bob's underwear.
"No?" Harry laughs humourlessly when he shifts the blade to Bob's chest, digging in deeper so a couple drops of blood peak out at him. "Your heart?"
Harry drags the length of the blade down Bob's middle, leaving a bright red gash in his wake. "Your soul?"
When he gets to Bob's throat, the overweight man starts to thrash about. "Your mind then? Is that it?"
Harry sighs and thinks about making it quick for this man. Instead, he goes back to Bob's wrist and he re-uses the scalpel to slice a neat block.
"Looking forward to go home and just wank in the shower to thoughts of him?" Harry bites his lip as he concentrates, ignoring the screeches coming from this blob of prey.
"You still live with your mom, don't you?" Harry shakes his head, removing the skin skilfully to reveal the chunk of vibrant meat. "Pathetic."
Bob is a mess on the steel examination table under the harsh UV light shining on his face. The stubble on his chin is prickly and scratches his baby skin. His bottom lip quivers as he succumbs to the most embarrassing reaction to fear.
"Fucking really, Bob?" Harry shouts, voice as cold as ice. "Lucky for you bed-wetters, I had a drain installed. For now you have to just lie there."
Bob screws his eyes shut as a second round of horrid pain pierces through his body from his forearm. He screams but Harry turns his radio up to The 1975 and nobody hears a thing. Harry removes a beautiful chunk of flesh from his arm, Bob having passed out long ago from the incredulous pain.
He slapped it on a plate, easily excited by the wet slurp it makes and he cuts a piece of his green apple with the bloodied knife so the prickly sweet taste of the apple is laced with the sour hint of blood DNA.
It took two weeks for Louis to give in and let Harry drive him to school. Two weeks of the hardest part of Harry's life. There was no dating or developing relationship, just Harry being his forward and demanding self that amused Louis. It finally came to a head at the laundromat where Louis was taking care of business.
Harry doesn't know if his staring creeps Louis out even though he can't help it, so he decides to ask. Out of the blue while Louis inserts the correct amount of coins into the machine, Harry appears.
"Do I scare you?" Harry asks, not an ounce of hesitation or respect for privacy in his voice. "My presence, I mean."
"Hello to you too, stranger." Louis blows his fringe out of his face and dumps his cup of detergent.
Harry waits.
"Uh....no, you don't scare me."
"Why not?" Harry steps closer as if trying to feed off Louis' words as they came out.
"Are you trying to? You're very cryptic."
"Is that what you think?"
Louis shrugs.
"I'm sorry." It tastes bitter on Harry's tongue and surprises Louis' ears. Harry's never apologised before, it was a weakness to him. "I'm not cryptic. You can ask me any question and I'll answer it.
"Okay. Sit down first." Louis pats the empty plastic seat next to him. Harry obeys and sits with a straight back. "Do you have a job?"
That's a tough one. "Not one that pays."
Louis nods in understanding. "So an internship?"
"No. Can I drive you to school now?"
"Well, I think they closed the grounds a few hours ago but-"
"Tomorrow, I mean." Harry chuckles, effortlessly for Louis.
"Why do you want to?"
It's Harry's turn to shrug.
"Promise me you're not going to murder me and dump me somewhere." Louis sticks out his pinkie finger.
Harry can't help the pleased twitch in the corners of his mouth as he links their pinkies together. "You have my word."
On the first day Harry drove Louis to school, it was without Gemma. Louis asked where she was and Harry didn't answer, something he did often when stubborn. Louis sighed and got out of the car, anticipating eight schooling hours when Harry rolled down the window between them.
"She's out of town." Harry answered him. It was partly true. Gemma will be out of town, after Harry makes the trip today to dump the dog towels.
Louis nods and steps away from the monstrous vehicle, waving once at Harry before jogging towards the staircase.
He contemplates his life choices as he hummed to Sam Smith by his locker. This could be his worst, and he's made some pretty nasty ones. Letting a man he's known two weeks drive him to school every morning, after lying to him that he had a car pool every afternoon.
Louis didn't see any harm in knowing Harry though, as a friend or more for that matter. He's been shoved into blankets of horrid event all his life, so a little bit more sinister ruling won't do him any good or bad.
Louis was different. Not violently so or drastically unbalanced chemically but he's been studying criminology since turning ten, and fell in love with the depth of killers' minds. It was gruelling but fascinating at the same time.
That is exactly why he took Harry's confession lightly three days later. Harry had asked Louis to come for dinner, cooked by himself. It wasn't a propositional question, more like a statement.
"Do you hate me?" Harry asks as soon as Louis' ready to get out of the car. He had been doing his homework on the trip here because last night got lost talking to Harry over the phone.
"No, Harry. Do you want me to?"
No. "Yes."
Louis frowns at him. "Is something wrong?"
"I'm cooking tonight. I'll pick you up at seven."
Louis' eyebrows fly up to greet his fringe. "Do I get a choice?"
Harry shakes his head.
"Well then." Louis grabs his bag from the back and opens the door. "See you at seven."
It was a tad frustrating for Louis these days. Life in general, that is. Knowing Harry meant altering the routine had had for everyday. He still woke up at 05h30 but he had to wait around for Harry for at least an hour - during which he did the homework he'd skipped the night before because of Harry. But when Louis got horribly late one morning, he cut that schedule in half.
Now, he slept at six - no exceptions - and woke up at two every morning. He used his little gym in the attic for an early workout before showering, completing all work and getting ready for school.
The day of Harry's dinner was the day new transfers showed up at school. Louis didn't care because lots of people wanted to come here, so he put his earphones on and turned on The 1975 - Harry's recommendation. In the midst of subtly bobbing his head, someone slapped him.
He reared his head to see who the offending asshole was, a hand braced against the reddening skin of his cheek.
"Didn't see ya there, mate." An obnoxious idiot with cow-chewing methods for bubblegum was in his face.
Louis backed up and hit his head on the closed locker door. He huffed and turned back around, not at all willing to fight a hooligan with grey eyes and blond hair.
"Oye." The same intruder tapped his shoulder. "I'm talking to you."
"Still?" Probably not the best thing he could have said right then to Trevor Golding, resident bully in Cleveland who moved here.
Louis gets pushed around a lot that day, mainly to the ground before his books follow after. He picks himself up each time and walks away, just plainly irritated by the nerve of some people. He lays a complaint with the principal and Trevor gets his transfer card back after the bruises are displayed, ready to be shipped out.
Harry pulled up in front of Louis' house at 18h58 and stood at the door until it was 19h00. Louis let him, standing on the other side and smiling bemusedly at the wood. Harry knocked once and Louis promptly opened it.
"What the fuck happened?"
Harry's practised smile falls to the graveyard this neighbourhood was probably built on. He's been in the car on the way here trying to curve his lips the right way after remembering that he's never really smiled at Louis before. Absurd, he knows.
Louis didn't try hiding the bruise by his eye because why should he? Harry wasn't his boyfriend who was going to go after them and beat them in his name. Harry was the man Louis met formally in Tesco and they had a strange blossoming friendship, according to hm.
"Um..." Louis doesn't get his turn to speak when Harry's on him suddenly, examining the mark. "Get off please."
Harry let's a flitter of anger come to light, warning Louis not to protest when Harry touched him. Holding his breath, Louis holds his tongue. Harry goes on a dare and applies a light amount of pressure to the purple bruise, in awe of how Louis' face scrunches up a bit.
That evening is the most outstanding of Louis' life. He's never known about a person like he can communicate with Harry without many words. Harry cooks and Louis sits on the counter, watching quietly.
"Here." Harry was cutting a cucumber, and took two slices away from the rest.
"Thanks." Louis pops them both into his mouth and watches Harry's head shake. "What?"
"Don't eat it." Harry taps his chin with his index finger. It's innocent, Louis swears.
Louis gazes speculatively at him until Harry blows out a loud breath and drops the knife in his hand.
"Close your eyes." He instructs.
"But-"
"Close 'em."
Louis pouts but obliges, his wet bottom lip sticking out as he waits. Harry forgets what he intended to do at first, just stops to stare at the childish boy in his kitchen with small hands and a wonderful mind. He reaches out and instinctively brushes his thumb along the protruding lip, making Louis suck it back in along with a breath.
Harry memorised the little veins running along the pink cushion, entranced by the fragile patience of this boy.
Snapping back to reality, Harry clears his throat and takes two more slices to place on Louis' eyes. He adds finesse and takes a moment extra to just brush Louis' skin delicately.
"Do it." Louis whispers and Harry feels the ghost air touch his mouth.
"Do what?" Harry held Louis' neck in both his hands, not pressing but just touching sweetly.
"I know you want to kiss me. So do it."
Harry knows this is dangerous. Too dangerous. Wanting to kiss someone, just for the benefit of light affection was always a sign of emotion. Harry didn't want those. He was enraptured by a boy in high school and he wanted to know him better, make sure this boy had some flaws that Harry would hate. He was shown up when Louis possessed no such traits, and Harry began to develop a consideration for this smaller male.
"No." Harry pushed him away. "I don't."
Louis moves the damned cucumbers to look at Harry in the eye. "Okay."
Harry peered at him through frosted vision of confusion and debatable envy. "What?"
"Okay."
"What's okay?"
"That you don't want to kiss me." Louis was a little hurt but it would die off by tomorrow morning.
"But....don't you hate me?"
"For not wanting to kiss me? No, you idiot. You find me unappealing, I can't force you to change your mind."
"You're not unappealing."
"Thanks." Louis puts the cucumbers back in place. "Means a lot."
Harry hated himself. Louis was openly willing to give him something he's wanted for days now but Harry turned him down. Now Louis wasn't going to believe him. Time for Plan B then.
"Louis?"
"Harold?"
Harry didn't even flinch at the disgusting name. "I'm going to fuck you."
Louis chokes on the cucumber he'd given up on and started eating. "Uh...when you say-"
"But I want to show you something first."