When the Fox hears the Rabbit scream he comes a-runnin', but not to help.
*NARRATOR'S POV*
Louis' heart is pounding, repelling against the constricting walls of his ribcage. He's nervous, anxious and a little afraid all rolled into one fiasco. Nobody's ever told him they were going to throw him on a bed and do 'things' to him before, now it made him cheeks light up and his mind race.
"Harry-"
"Stop talking." Harry grabs his wrist and doesn't bother assisting Louis get off the counter considering the boy has short legs that weren't touching the ground.
Leading him upstairs to the bathroom, Harry flips on the light switch and never let's go of the unfamiliar closure Louis' hand-holding gives him.
"Cool." Louis looks around, never having had a tour of the apartment before starting to cook.
Harry draws back the shower glass and reveals three taps. Hot. Cold. But there's one more.
"Milk?" Louis teases and Harry doesn't understand this boy, but he desperately wants to.
Finally releasing Louis' hand after draining the final dose of comforting familiarity from the touch, Harry stepped into the wide shower section. Louis looked on with many a question lingering in his fast-paced state of mind. He chews the inside of his cheek, incidentally biting off the worn out squamous tissue.
The tap that sat hooked between the hot and cold knobs was special, tinted navy and only needed to be pulled out to function. Harry did that now with unafraid hands, but cautious fingers. The bigger part of him was a little worried, but the aggressive portion that took and claimed what it wanted at all costs set him at ease.
There was no steam when the shower gage began to release liquid. Red liquid. Louis' jaw ran agape and he involuntarily stepped toward the healthy spray out of pure curiosity. Curiosity killed the cat.
He stood staring at how the blood fell from the metal head to Harry's hair, before dripping down his body and getting washed down the drain. The glint in his eye was dark fascination, taken totally by this dicey invention.
"Blood." He seemed to mouth the word with a surprised breath.
Harry shut off the tap and stared back at Louis with contempt and interest. He was matted in blood, his hair felt caked to his skull but that didn't bother him. It was familiar, always able to soothe the raw nerve ends that drove him off a bridge. Something he's actually done in an old Ford Capri, but survived when a nosey passerby saved him. Harry thinks this is why that stranger gave him a chance he didn't deserve.
Louis had his upper lip between his molars, biting in thought. The corner was sore now from being split open by rough prodding. The rest of him was calm, no twitching or forms of anxiety. That seemed to soften the blow to a bothered mind of Harry neither knew was there.
Harry closes his eyes when he tells Louis the whole truth, giving Louis the chance to leave him without reluctance. He knows he'll just run after him and keep him by force but it's the sentiment that counts at this moment in time. Harry's never given up something he wanted before so it's blatant that he won't bloody start now.
"I kill people, Louis." He starts, his eyelids have dried to sandpaper but Harry feels nothing.
Louis' eyes dart from the shower to him, boring into his soul and putting Harry on edge. Nobody's done that before and it provides him with a loud burst of energy.
Energy to step out of the non-slip tiled floor and cover the distance to Louis, that's oddly decreased. He stands there for a short empty while, waiting for something to hit him in the face or heart.
Nothing happens and and Harry takes in the softness of Louis' blue, blue eyes. It's his favourite colour. Harry reaches out and touches Louis' cheek, bloodied thumb and all. He leaves a streak on the smooth skin where he's touched, and he experiments further by brushing Louis' feathery hair away from his eyes. More blood touches Louis' forehead and left temple.
"Say something." Harry looks pained in his expression, the way he did in the laundromat. "Louis. I said-"
"Do you now?" Louis cuts him off, having heard exactly what Harry confessed.
"Yes."
"So shouldn't you be showing me your lair and not your bathroom?"
Harry fights to keep his eyes closed even though he is certain Louis' laughing softly at him. "I bathe in their blood."
"I saw."
"You don't believe me?" Harry tilts his head to the side, trying to deliver the same sinister expression he gives to all his prey.
"No, I do."
"Then?"
"Is this your way of kicking me out? I'll leave if you-"
Harry kisses him with a hard, fervent mouth just to see if Louis' genuine about this. His wet, rust and iron tasting lips crashing against Louis' own. A kiss can tell a lot, if Louis is hesitating or just straight-out pulling away. A kiss in time can speak in abundance, just like how time can heal what a kiss caused.
But there's none of the above. Louis doesn't get time to groan from the harsh bite to his bottom lip, and Harry seems to lose himself just momentarily to this fantasy Louis renders in his world. Harry's arms form barricades around Louis' waist as he lifts him off the ground. He pries Louis' thighs apart and makes them wrap around his hips for balance.
All of Louis' clothing gets equally disturbed by the traces of others' blood that Harry's dabbed in. Neither noticed when Harry presses him against the cool wall.
Louis moans when Harry's hand floats to his bum, shamelessly kneading the flesh through his pants.
"I want you to believe me." Harry's never heard this kind of plea in his voice before.
"I do, Harry." Louis pulls back to convey the truth in his eyes.
Harry holds the basin with one hand and grips Louis' hip with the other. "Are you afraid?"
"You won't hurt me."
"Yes I will."
"You pinkie swore, Harry."
"Not in that way." Harry chuckles, already feeling at ease with Louis with no false sense of security. "I'd never hurt you in that way."
Louis' face suddenly scrunches up as he wipes islands of blood off Harry's neck and face. "Can you shower for real now?"
"Wait."
"Uh-" Louis was about to mention that he physically couldn't go anywhere, since Harry has him irreversibly pinned.
"What does this mean?"
"It means that you don't smell your finest."
Harry thinks he could finally nurture a sense of humour with Louis being as bold as he is. "You're mine now?"
"Was that your objective?"
Harry nods once only.
Louis awkwardly slides onto the edge of the sink, legs crossed behind Harry's back and hands wandering the upper parts of the man. He presses his forehead to Harry's chest - fighting to ignore the less desirable stench - when the taller places his chin on Louis' head. Louis was tiny and never felt just how drastic the difference was until now, curled around Harry's lanky frame like a monkey.
Harry's hated silence with another person all his life, pregnant pauses that held depth he couldn't reach. He clenches his jaw and tries to find the will to pull away.
"Louis."
"Hmm?"
"You're mine now." It's decisive, no longer a question. The time for turning back - or the illusion of turning back - is long fucking over. "You cannot run, Louis."
"I play football, 'm pretty sure I can run."
Harry realises that he's going to have to get used to this customary sass that Louis exudes by the gallon. "You run away from me, and I will find you again."
"Flattering."
But, like every other man Harry had a breaking point. Louis was making one too many poking jokes at his methods, and he wasn't going to stand for it.
He storms out of the bathroom, rage evident on his face as he hauls Louis with him without strain. Kicking the door to his bedroom open he drops Louis carelessly onto the high mattress before crawling over him.
"Stop that." Harry attaches his teeth instead of lips to Louis' neck, making the boy buck his hips and groan loudly.
"St-Stop what?" Louis is already panting, chest rising and falling shallowly.
"Laughing at me. I don't like it." Harry kicks off his own shoes before prying Louis' off immediately after.
In a half arsed attempt to keep the glorious maroon stains from tampering with his black bed sheets, Harry strips down to nothing and flings the items of clothing across the room. It gives a wet echo when colliding with the wall. Louis admired Harry's perfect physique, eyes trailing along every expanse of skin he hasn't seen already.
Harry corrupts the vision by shoving Louis back against the pillows and kicking his legs apart with his knees. Louis' body shudders with arousal, quick and desperate as Harry undoes his pants. He ends up the way he entered this world before Harry comes to hover above him.
There was power, dominance about Harry that made Louis dizzy and forget he's about to have sex for the first time in his life. He's afraid to even think the wrong thing with the man above him looking at him that way, hooded plans and reverent intentions.
Harry's hips dug down on Louis' mercilessly as if demanding he surrender every private moment and intimate act. His body was damp from the shower escapade but Louis' too distracted to mind the smell anymore.
Having had plenty of experiences in sex, Harry still feels unsure of what he's supposed to do here. It's different this time but he forgets that in a moment of blindness, erasing all premeditated action of foreplay to stick a pillow under Louis' behind and hold his legs at an eagle's spread.
Louis' breath is rapid and he clenches the bed sheet in small fists, expecting severe attention to a region most guarded to him. Most untouched. What he gets is a spray of saliva and the gutwrenching screams of his own when Harry plunges in. No prep, no mind.
He claws at Harry's back and biceps, not enjoying this at all even with his half hard dick slowly deflating now from the pain.
"Stop, Harry." He sobs, pushing Harry away when the man bottoms out.
Harry isn't totally heartless - for Louis, just Louis - and immediately freezes to take care of him. The boy under him was tight and warm, with velvety insides that begged for Harry's pounding.
"Lou?" Harry finally got his wish of calling Louis that. "Can I call you that?"
"Get off, Harry!" Louis thrashed about in opaque agony until Harry pinned his arms above his head and rested all his weight on Louis'.
"Shh." Harry's never kissed any part of a person other than their lips to get them going, but now he peppers light ones all over Louis' neck, face and collarbones.
"Hurts." Louis blinks rapidly to ruin his tears and gets his hands free of Harry.
Harry doesn't retract himself, nor does he move one bit. He simply lies there, feeling Louis' bruised walls clench around him in a brave crescendo of rhythm. Harry's arm wrap around Louis' body as little hands fist his still wet hair, both of them ignoring the squelch of moisture.
It takes a good few minutes of waiting, Harry rock hard and Louis speedily approaching the same state.
"Better?" Harry kisses Louis' lips and decides and it's his favourite thing to do in the whole world.
Louis nods and carefully shifts his hips to test the waters. He learns to love the pain as it sends delicious sparks up his spine to his brain, instructing him to moan unashamedly as he ground against Harry's member.
"You have school tomorrow." Harry grunts, starting to move and relishing the sounds from his lover.
"Yeah." Louis' voice is blissed out, eyes rolled to the back of his head and neck exposed for Harry mark up.
"Gonna limp around all day." Harry lifts Louis' legs to wrap around his hips and picks up his speed gradually.
Louis' body shifts further up the mattress with every thrust, creating such beautiful imagery for Harry to memorise. He lifts up onto his forearms, before starting to really move and make Louis shriek. His hips pivot relentlessly upward, slamming against Louis' and stinging the sensitive skin. He groans often, genuinely enjoying the squeeze Louis gives him on each shove and pull. It's wonderful and Harry never wants to stop.
His teeth clamp down on Louis' skin, fucking harder and faster for a short minute before filling the boy with his warm seed. Louis comes shortly after, not for the first time but definitely for the best. He stares at the ceiling as Harry pulls out his softening length and collapses right on top of him.
"Louis?" Harry sticks his fingers between Louis' quivering thighs and prods at his entrance, grinning devilishly when the boy grumbles at the leaking feel.
"What?" Louis didn't mean to snap but he's so sore he can't think normally.
"You didn't answer my question."
"Yes you can call me Lou."
"We need to clean up."
Harry rolls off him even when Louis whines at him to stay. He makes a questioning face at the boy.
"What?" Harry is comfortable enough to stand in the bathroom with the light on, butt naked.
"Where are you going?" Louis' eyes are closed and he's already giving in to the folds of sleep.
"Get up." Harry slaps Louis' bare behind, trying not to smile at the very faint ripple. "Go get clean."
Louis' already fallen asleep, face buried in Harry's favourite pillow - not that he knew that - and snoring softly. With a heavy sigh, Harry gets a warm wet cloth and wipes down Louis' entire body. He took extra time where the leaking was concerned but no one needs to know that.
Harry didn't know what to do after that. He stared at Louis' sleeping form for a good ten minutes - still naked, mind you - until he grabbed a comforter from the closet and headed downstairs. He used the sink to clean his hair and took care of the meal they were supposed to eat before trying to sleep on the couch. He failed, because he was still buzzing from sex with Louis and wanted to have more except Louis was knocked out.
Using the smallest knife in his collection, Harry sat on the couch with The Jetsons on and carved little things into his palm. None of it hurt, so he just carried on until he got bored and fell back against the couch. He felt slight pokes but it didn't hurt so it didn't matter. The clock said 21h54.
Louis woke up with a start at ten that night, gasping from the pain that shot up his back and swallowed back a cry.
"Harry?" Louis called into the empty room after feeling the cold sheets and examining the blank spaces. "Harry?"
Harry was downstairs and closed his ears to the calls. He turned on his side, and fought to find sleep even with the pungent regret residing in his chest. Sleeping with a person, literally, was too intimate for him.
Louis called three more times, voice cracking at the last attempt before giving up and going to sleep. He set a pillow down on the empty half of the bed as a signal. If it moved by morning then Harry had come.
The pillow didn't move all through the night.
Louis wakes up at seven the next morning, bit his lip and blinked past blurry vision to look around. He noticed the pillow and slipped out of bed with more pained sounds than necessary. Harry still didn't show up. He had gone out for a run at six and didn't tell Louis or leave a note. The door was open so Louis got dressed and dashed out of the apartment.
Harry got back at 07h15, bearing goods from Starbucks as breakfast. He was quite proud of himself for thinking up the idea by himself. That friendly heat fills his chest when the apartment is empty. He tries to control the remnants of his willpower but he fails and storms out of the building after capsizing the coffee table in rage.
Louis took the subway home, standing on purpose because sitting would feel like torture. He made tea in an actual mug and just took it with him on the brief walk to school, along with a chocolate chip muffin.
There wasn't much time to ponder his hurt feelings over last night, because he's late when he gets to school and immediately sits down for class. Sitting was the hard part because although Louis favoured some of the pain and the memory of how it originated, sometimes it played a bitch and he almost chipped his tooth with all the grinding. Nobody notices the mug and nobody says a thing.
That is, up until his Religious Studies class door swings open on squeaky hinges and standing before the class is a not at all pleased Harry. Louis had been trying to toss the muffin's paper wrap with easy calculations, but now goes off by a meter and hits the back of a student's head. He looks down quickly, starting to scribble in his notebook - quotes from Seven Psychopaths - while the teacher talks to this visitor.
"Can I-"
"I need to see Louis." Poor Mr. Jenkins. Harry can't be looking humble or polite right now if the hard tone of his voice is anything to go by.
Everyone looks at Louis, who cannot shrivel back into his seat anymore than he's already tried. Their eyes are curious, but none burn the way Harry's do. Louis gets up, mug in his hand because he's still thirsty and doesn't give a flying fuck, and walks out the door with a nod to his flabbergasted educator.
If Louis hadn't set the mug down on a bench, his favourite one of his collection would probably have shattered when Harry cornered him by the lockers.
With two large hands matching the size of their owner pressed against locker 325 on either side of Louis' head, he definitely wasn't going anywhere.
"You were gone. Tell me why." Harry's admirable green orbs have melted to black. Those eyes were cold and void of empathy.
Louis wasn't scared though, never was. "Yeah? You noticed?"
Harry tightens his jaw until Louis can trace the strong bone itself. "Tell me why."
"It's a two-way street, babe. You were gone too."
Nothing about Harry's composure changed. "I went out."
"Ridiculous." Louis wet his lips and shook his head, forcing Harry's arm out of the way so he could side step him.
"Louis!" Harry calls after him, voice thick with irritation. "Don't walk away from me."
Louis says nothing and keeps going. Harry took two big strides and tried to be gentle about shoving Louis against the locker that was now open. Louis' locker.
"I said don't walk away from me!"
It was driving Harry mad, feeling this boy sink his claws into him and have control over the way he acted. Harry was slowly losing his hard-earned composure to Blue Eyes who he's known almost three weeks. Louis' not scared, but if he is he's the best at hiding it.
Harry retaliates with physical rage, something he understand and something that puts him in total control. He slams Louis' locker door shut right beside his head, with Louis' precious hand still holding it. Harry's not irresponsible and still cares - he will never verbally admit it - about Louis no matter how infuriating he is, and so covers Louis' hand with his own just as the ancient steel comes to a stop.
Louis' chest is rising and falling like that of a racing animal. He's never witnessed such a stormy emotion flood Harry's gaze and inhibit his body that way. He wasn't hurt at all by stubbornly holding the locker door because Harry covered his hand and took the harsh blow without a mewl.
"How does it feel?" Is all Louis can say, heart still in the lurch about where they stand. "Being left behind?"
"I didn't walk away from you." Harry shakes his head, convincing nobody but himself.
Louis didn't want to mess with this Harry but if Harry hurt him against their pinky promise, he'd cross that bridge - or burn it - when it arose.
"Then what do you call leaving me to spend the entire night alone in your giant bed after we did the most intimate thing two people could ever do?" He was kind in words but the diction was less so.
Harry drew back and let his arms fall into his sweaty hoodie's pockets. The blood from an injured fist was soaking the fabric but he didn't feel a thing.
Louis was right, and it made Harry annoyed. Sex was intimate especially for Harry and Louis, not Harry and anybody else, this is something he admitted to himself last night. What he did was lousy, he could have asked Louis if he wanted to be alone or not. But he didn't. He assumed and now Louis is angry with him. Knowing this fed a deep pit of insanity, plagued with beasts that made Harry itch and want to scream.
He was so lost to himself that he didn't hear the bell go and see Louis leave. When he sunk back to Planet Earth, the boy he had so many things to say to was gone and still upset. Upset with Harry. Harry made him upset, and it was already killing him from the inside.
Louis went straight to cover his shift at the pet shop after sixth form, at three. He had a two hour shift and chose to blatantly ignore the navy Range Rover across the street.
"Hey, Lou." The always friendly manager, Delilah, greeted him.
"Hi." Louis dumped his bag in the back room and rushed to put his employee jacket on. "How was today?"
"Busy." She blew her blonde fringe out of her face. "Donny and Cash are gone."
"Aw. That's good then."
Louis couldn't help the smile that crept onto his visage. Donny was a handicapped dog and Cash was a bird with no feathers on his tail. This pet shop took in strays and did the occasional breeding session, but it was the only pet shop in town so everyone knew them.
Grabbing the dog treats from the storage room, Louis went to take care of the puppies at the front of the store. He pointedly did not look up at the street as he giggled at Furry the labrador who tried licking him.
"Naughty." Louis held him close anyway as he fed the others and Furry wagged his short tail at the little girl who walked past.
Louis loved all his animals, but his favouritism went straight to Bolg the turtle. He had little red streaks on his pointy feet and always knew when Louis was coming to see him. He'd stick his head out of that shell - the only time he ever did - and accepted the lettuce offering.
"How are we today, Bolg?" Louis picks up the reptile with one hand and fed him the lettuce with the other. "I think I'll take you home today. Just don't tell Delly, okay?"
"I heard you!" His boss shouts from the cash register. "But you can take him today, he only likes you."
Louis had enough money to buy Bolg but never really took that option seriously. He didn't want to leave him unattended while Louis was at school - or college - and risk it getting hurt. It's better for him here where Louis knew he was safe and monitored. Someone could buy him though and take Bolg away from Louis for good.
"Hey Delly?!"
* * * * *
Louis ran upstairs to his attic and dropped his bag at the desk, then took Bolg's box and opened it into the neat all-natural reserve Louis' been preparing since he was sixteen. It's on the floor so Bolg won't fall from high tables.
"Your new home." Louis announces. "Like it?"
Bolg seems to because he's already munching on the lettuce - greedy fellow - that's been arranged like a artistic tree. There's a knock on the door downstairs and Louis kisses the turtle's shell before closing the attic's door soundly and jogging down the staircase.
"Coming!" Louis shouts when the knocks get harder.
He yanks the door open and stops short, breath mingled with his heart as it clogs his throat. "Harry."
The man who Louis last saw hours ago is blocking the entire doorway, massive height towering over Louis. He's wearing a thin black shirt with buttons at the top, those trademark skinny jeans and a useless beanie. His right hand is also bandaged.
Louis didn't look to Harry's left, but he does now and standing there is a girl about a foot shorter than her escort. She's blindfolded which is odd.
"Latest conquest?" Louis only knows retort and no remorse. It's how he reacts to things that hurt when they shouldn't.
Harry's nostrils flare but he swallows a smart remark, the unknown feeling swallowing it and him bit by bit already. He pushes the girl inside and Louis isn't sure how happy he is about this but closes the door behind Harry anyway before crossing his arms. In his own mind it creates a little support for the threat that was shoving his heart out of his chest.
"I need to sleep so-"
"Forgive me." Harry says, eyes locked with Louis' and his hand digging imprints into the girl's arm. "Louis please."
"Harry, I don't-"
"Or I'll kill her."
Louis' half opened mouth pauses for a minute in disbelief. "What?"
That's when the girl starts crying and Harry brings her to his chest, a slightly hidden blade that Louis didn't notice becoming so against her throat. She doesn't say anything, or do anything besides cry.
"Harry, are you crazy? Let her go." Louis' arms drop and he steps forward.
"No, Louis. It's your fault. I can't...I can't keep feeling this way. This horrible. I need you to forgive me and- and take me back so it can stop. I hate feeling this way. Say it. Say it so we can go back to before."
Louis' gobsmacked and fishmouths from apparent shock, but has enough sense to nod vigorously. "Yes. Yes, I forgive you. Harry, it's okay now."
Harry may be a killer but Louis wasn't going to have it on his conscious that a person died because of him. He watches Harry drop the knife, and releases a breath he didn't know he was holding.
But as a last accomplishment, one more reward, Harry squeezes his eyes shut and grants this bar hopper mercy by snapping her neck. It was the final signature at the end of a contract, the last gulp before his cut-off drink.
The deep breath before the plunge.
He doesn't open his eyes until he's stumbled over to a stunned Louis and drops to his knees. Harry hugs Louis' middle as if to say thank you and Louis runs a hand through his damp hair that smells of mint, saying you're welcome.