Harry wasn't sure if his father would've actually killed him. The scariest thing was that he was actually thinking about it. Harry could see it in his eyes.
Before he got the chance to decide, both his arms were grabbed from behind him, and he was restrained. Harry didn't hear the sirens, he didn't hear the front door open. Harry didn't hear the policemen storm down the stairs because he was too focused on one face in the room. Louis.
He was so focused on how beautiful he looked. Obviously, he was scared half to death and had tearstains running down his face, but that didn't change the fact that his features were absolutely gorgeous. His blue eyes were enough to make Harry feel at home. Comforted. Their blueness was amplified by the pool on tears covering them.
If Harry were to die now, he would be okay with Louis as the last thing he ever saw. Actually, he would be more than okay. Ideal even. Fortunately, he didn't die.
Harry slid down the wall as his father was dragged away from him. A police officer immediately grabbed his arm, helping him stand up.
The officer was speaking to him. He was probably asking if he was okay or what happened, but Harry wasn't listening. Instead, he was watching his dad get dragged away by another two officers. For the first time in a long time, the man had something on his face that took Harry a while to place.
It took Harry's thoughts back to his childhood. That time when Harry, his mum, and his dad went to the park on a sunny afternoon. Back then, Harry had no worries. All he knew was that his dad loved him, his mum loved him, and he was happy. Even as a little kid, he saw the way his father looked at his mother. He loved her.
Harry used to love to pose while sliding down the slide. His parents would clap so loudly after every slide, giving his a score out of ten like they did in the Olympics. His mother would rest her head on his father's shoulders. He would smile with her, so proud of the child they had created together. He had loved his family so much.
Through alcoholism, the man realized that anything he loved could quickly be taken away from him. He viewed love as a weakness, slowly growing colder to his family. He let nothing else into his life except for his bottles. They could never let him down.
Harry recognized the look on his face. He looked vulnerable. For the first time since he had loved his family, he had something to lose here. And he was losing.
"Dad," Harry called out just before they reached the stairs. The name felt weird on Harry's tongue, like a foreigner with a name that didn't match their face. The officers stopped and let the man turn around to face his son.
"Just so you know," Harry licked his dry lips, tasting the metallic taste of blood. "If you stop being such an asshole, I'll forgive you."
Harry swore he saw something flicker through the man's eyes before the two men grabbed him, and pulled him up the stairs.
"Sir, could you answer some question for me?" The officer that was still standing beside Harry asked politely.
"Could you give me a couple minutes to talk to my friend?" Harry pleaded, motioning at Jaqueline.
The officer checked his watch, hesitating. Harry gave the saddest look he could muster up and just stared at the officer. It helped a lot that his face was covered in blood. "Please?"
"Fine."
Harry quickly walked to Jaqueline, but before he could open his mouth, she asked him the same question he was going to ask her. "Did you call them?"
Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "In case you didn't notice, I was busy being beaten up. I thought you called them?"
"Nope, wasn't me. I was trying not to fall down the stairs." She replied.
They both turned toward Louis, who had stood up.
"Why are you looking at me? I didn't call them." Louis furrowed his eyebrows.
That's when Harry saw the outline of his mom's figure for the first time, still clutching the cell phone in her hand.
"Huh, weird," he said back to his friends. He didn't need to involve them in his deep family issues.
~
It had taken the police almost two hours to finish their questioning. By that time, it was past dinnertime, and Jaqueline had gone home. Louis let his mum know that he was alright, then decided to stay with Harry for the night.
"I ordered pizza, is that alright?" Harry's mother asked softly, almost like she was afraid of a reaction.
"Mom, that's perfect," Harry offered a small smile.
"Look, Harry, I'm so sorry. I'm not asking you to forgive me, but please let me explain-" Harry cut her off with a massive hug. He wrapped his long arms around the woman, inhaling her scent. he hadn't seen her much lately, but she still seemed so familiar. It was almost like the same feeling of home that Louis gave him.
"Of course, you can explain," Harry pulled away, smiling wearily. He pulled out a couple chairs, motioning for her to sit down with him.
She sighed. "He just told me that if I said anything, he would tell everyone that I cheated on him. And then he wouldn't let me see you. Whenever you were home, I had to either leave the house or stay locked away in my room."
"Then it wasn't your fault, mom. He was blackmailing you." Harry reached out and grabbed her hand. A tear ran down her cheek, landing on her jeans. It was hard for Harry to believe that this was the same woman who used to applaud his for sliding down the plastic slide at the playground. The same woman that used to be so happy.
"It was my fault though! I could've stopped it if I wasn't too scared." Harry's heart broke when he pulled her hand away from his and looked away. It was the same look that Louis held way too often. She was blaming herself.
"Mom, let's not lay blame on anyone. Can we just be glad that this is over?" Harry frowned. His mun just sighed and walked away.
Harry silently took four slices of pizza up to his room. Twenty minutes later, there were still three and a half slices. Neither he nor Louis had much of an appetite after the events of the day.
Louis sat on Harry's bed, against the corner where two walls met. It wasn't even ten o'clock yet, but both boys were exhausted.
"Do you want to take off the sweater?" Harry asked the boy.
"Not really."
"You're not hot?" Harry asked.
"I'm alright,"
"You look hot."
"Thanks," Louis joked.
"That's not what I meant, silly," Harry said, but he couldn't help but chuckle.
"You don't think I'm hot?" Louis pouted.
"Of course you're hot," Harry smiled, climbing onto the bed beside Louis. The sheets rustled under him as he moved closer to the boy.
"Thanks, man," Louis stated sarcastically.
"Please just take off the sweater."
"Fine," Louis slipped both arms into the sweater and out of the sleeves before pulling the entire thing over his head. He immediately slid under the comforter, hiding his body that was exposed in the thin t-shirt he was wearing.
Harry climbed in with him, feeling the body heat produced by Louis. He reached to his left, slapping the wall until he managed to hit the light switch, turning the room dark.
He reached over to his other side, putting an arm around Louis. The smaller boy flinched as soon as he was touched. Harry pretended not to notice, but sighed internally, cursing all the people who hurt this boy.
Harry was having a hard time falling asleep. He was incredibly comfortable, but every time he started drifting off, he could feel the punches all over again, jerking him awake.
He feared that his movements would wake Louis up, but the boy was sound asleep. Harry could feel the steady rise and fall of his back against his own chest. He would use it to lull himself back to sleep, only to be awakened by a pang of hurt on his face, or the sickening sound of skin striking skin.
And then the vicious cycle repeats itself.
~
Harry didn't know how long he had been staring at the ceiling. He just knew it had been a long time. He had long since stopped trying to fall asleep. He probably dozed off for a few hours combined, but once the sun started rising and the room became brighter, he gave up.
"Do you ever have those times when you can't tell if something was a dream or if it was real?" A voice spoke next to him.
Harry knew exactly what he was talking about. If he had slept at all last night, he would've thought it was a dream too. "It was real."
"I know," Louis whispered.
"Oh."
"I thought it was a dream." Louis shifted his position. "But then I saw your face."
"Oh."
To be fair, Harry hadn't seen his own face yet. He had intentionally avoided mirror for all of yesterday. Louis commented on it a few times, but Harry just laughed it off. He was kind of afraid to see his own face. He almost felt as if he saw the damage, it would all become way too real. He didn't know id he ready for that. Or if he would ever be ready for that.
He grabbed his phone off his nightstand, checking the time. It was almost ten. He wasn't sure if it was a school day or not. Not that it mattered. He didn't think he'd be ready to go to school for at least another week. Probably even longer for Louis.
He had a single text from Jaqueline.
'You gonna be okay?'
He replied with a simple,
'Do i have a choice?'
He put his phone down, climbing out of bed. He looked back at Louis, who was just curled up on the bed with his eyes closed. Harry knew he was awake though. His breathing was deeper than the type he had spent so much time studying last night. More erratic even.
He walked down the hall to the bathroom. He instinctively took light steps. He was so used to doing that so he wouldn't wake up his father. That wasn't really an issue anymore.
He shut his eyes as soon as he got into the bathroom, afraid of what his mirror was going to tell him.
He built up enough courage and suddenly flung his eyes open. It wasn't terrible. Since he had spent the past twelve hours imagining the worst case scenario for his face, the reality wasn't too terrible.
The worst part was the swelling. Almost every part of his face had at least some swelling. The worst was probably his left eye, the side that had the cut on it. As hazy as his memory was, Harry remembered an especially hard strike on that side. His lips were also swollen and extremely dry, but that was probably because he had been biting them non-stop.
Other then the swelling, which would hopefully fix itself in a few days, it wasn't too terrible at all. Most of the blood had come from the one cut on the left side of his forehead that seemed to be pretty deep. Maybe he would get a cool scar or something.
There was also some bruising, but relative to the situation, it wasn't terrible.
Harry was debating on getting ready for the day, but he ended up crawling back into bed, not ready to face the world.
This time, he managed to fall asleep pretty fast, which was fantastic except for the fact that it was the middle of the day.
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