Apocalypse | L.S [Completed]

XLVII

Check A/N at the end of the chapter.

"Thank you so much, Daniel." Louis expresses his gratitude with a small smile, eyes glancing every once in a while at a peacefully resting Harry on his car's passenger seat, while Daniel waves Louis off after placing Harry with caution. Louis is genuinely thankful for the forever agitated man's aid. For he is the reason Harry is not in pain in the very moment, sleeping a peaceful rest inside the safety of Louis's car.

"It is nothing, Mr. Tomlinson. He is a good lad and I certainly do not enjoy seeing him in pain—it was only fair. He has always been good to me, it's necessary that I do the same. Have a nice evening, sir." Daniel bids his farewell with another look at Harry—making sure the curly-haired lad did not have a limb hanging out of the doorframe—and walks towards where he has his own car parked, leaving Louis with his sleeping ex-lover in his car.

It has been a fucking stretched day for Louis. He knew seeing Harry again would feel like a bullet in the arse, but in all honesty, it felt like a fucking bomb exploding inside him. He is still unable to decipher everything that happened, still shaken by every single occurrence of the day. What has Harry Styles done to Louis Tomlinson?

He sighs—a deep, helpless sigh—and with a thumping heart, his fingers grasp the door handle, sliding inside the plush interior, his hands habitually find their place in Harry's beautiful, soft curls, running through them mindlessly as he starts the vehicle with the other hand. Engine roar fills the air, swallowing Harry's soft snores with it and somehow even Louis' thoughts as he focuses on the sound and on the road ahead.

He knows he has to have 'the' talk with Harry soon. He fucking knows. But, knowing it doesn't make it any easier for him. He doesn't want to hear Harry say that he hates Louis, he doesn't want to hear a word of disgust come out of Harry's mouth directed towards him. Louis doesn't want to fight Harry anymore. He is tired of fighting.

He has been fighting all his life, but now, his heart craves the sweet taste of rest and peace.

Light snow dusts the land, few flakes falling on Louis' windshield as the headlights pass him. It's oddly peaceful, Louis thinks, with Harry beside him—safe and protected—it's oddly peaceful because Louis has Harry right in front of his eyes. Even the lightly purring engine along with Harry's soft, barely audible snores are enough for Louis to freely breathe a breath he has been holding for days now—a month perhaps.

With guilty hands, he finds himself running his fingers through Harry's curls, knowing well Harry isn't conscious. Louis also knows Harry would never allow him if he was more aware in the moment, but Louis can not help himself, he's gone too far for the chocolate curls and green eyes.

"Harry." Louis whispers gently, slightly shaking the sleeping boy, careful enough to not startle him. It takes him a minute before Harry stirs, balled palms rubbing his eyes as he lets out a kitten yawn before grasping Louis' hand and curling into it absentmindedly. Louis sighs, knowing well that it's merely the effects of his tiredness and that Harry will not do such a thing if he was completely awake. Well fuck Louis' heart.

"Harry." He says again, sterner now. His hand struggles to slip out of the younger's warm embrace, Harry clutching it tighter in protest. "Bons!" He practically yells making green eyes shoot open and blunt nails dig into Louis' palm in surprise.

"I—wha—sorry," Harry mumbles, embarrassed to the core as his fingers release Louis' hand, faint crimson crescent visible on Louis' pale skin.