Wrong Place To Rob [L.S.]

Nine:

Don't.

~~~

soft.

So soft.

Soft was the mattress beneath him.

Soft was the duvet against his skin, tightly over his shoulder as his fist clutched it close to his chin.

But cold was the air that touched his forehead.

And cold he felt when he remembered what happened the day before.

Never did he feel so... disturbed. So alone. So worthless. So useless. So nothing.

And embarrassed he was when he stood there with closed eyes and a barrel against his temple, trigger of an unloaded gun pulled as his hostage taker was watching him.

But surprised he was when he opened his eyes again in defeat and saw a tear roll down the man's cheek. A cheek that looked so soft to caress, so tempting to wipe the tear away that welled out of his closed eyes.

His closed eyelids contracted in confusion, his breathing heavy, as he opened them slowly and inhaled shakily when he saw Louis still standing on his feet.

If he saw it right, there was even a very tiny smile of relief on his lips, before Louis started to cry, he fell. He fell on his knees, palms of his hands hitting the ground harshly, screaming with tears as his whole world crumpled.

Until he felt two strong arms pulling him in their chest and he was being rocked back and forth. He didn't know how long it took, while they were rocking and his hair was being caressed. All he could see was the grey fabric of Harry's shirt, wetted in his tears, until finally he fell asleep.

Louis wasn't happy, though.

He wanted to die. For the first time in his whole life he actually wanted to die. He was so sick of it, so damn sick of starving out, sleeping on a cold floor with one pillow in the cold, not getting any better so he'd cough every five seconds. Two fucking weeks now.

But now, it was a tiny bit better.

He didn't feel cold, in fact, the warm duvet was almost over-heating him.

Wait, what actually happened?

He frowned and opened his eyes to see a room, not getting time to adjust and let the confusion sink in when the door opened and Harry came in, but he quickly closed his eyes and pretended to sleep.

He wouldn't talk to him, no. He was so damn hungry, not having eaten anything for a third day now. But after what happened what he'd assume was a few hours ago, he refused to communicate with the curly haired man that saw him attempt suicide.

The door flew open again.

"Shh, he's still sleeping." Harry whispered from somewhere next to him, near his head.

"I still don't understand why you brought him here. He tried to kill himself. He wants dead. Why don't you let him?" Liam asked carefully and he heard some shuffling like someone getting into bed. It was next to him, near his head again.

Harry sighed from that place. "I don't fucking know, Liam. I don't know. There's- I- He does something to me."

Louis did something to Harry? What would he be doing? Was it really the reason he hadn't killed him yet?

Liam sighed, but Louis thought he heard him go out anyway as the door closed, leaving Harry and him alone in the room.

"Louis?" Harry whispered.

He wouldn't talk to him.

"Lou? Are you awake?" Louis shuffled a bit but refused to talk.

Suddenly, there was a shuffling noise again before his bed dipped, telling him Harry was sitting on the edge of it.