Resist Everything Except Temptation

Chapter 9

The cabin had transfigured into an unrecognizable place. Long gone was the comfort of rose oil and soothing temperateness. No, that aura Harry had built was demolished by a stringent smell of rum and the presence of cracked bottles. The table Louis had spent hours sitting at, was tossed on its side, precious documents strewn in its wake. Jewels were carelessly lobbed across the floorboards as if they were thrown in a fit of angst. It looked like a monsoon had plundered the space, ripping everything in its path to shreds and then hurling them onto the floor in its bellowing rage.

Slumped in the middle of the mess he made, was Harry's limp body. The soft tresses of his curls were ratted into a greasy halo against the floor. His plump lips parted and a shade paler than their usual flushed pigment as they let out uneven exhales. In the dim lighting, plum colored bruises were still visible underneath his shut eyes. Long limbs were curled inwards as if he had tried to disappear in the heart of the storm.

Louis shot across the room and roughly landed on his knees by Harry's side. He hauled Harry's upper body into his lap, knocking away the empty bottle of rum from his hand. With his heart hammering in stark contrast to Harry's lucid pulse, Louis cradled Harry's head in is shaking hands. Panic threatened to blind him when Harry didn't respond, his body allowing itself to be moved but not giving any signs of awareness.

"Harry," Louis croaked out, his eyes stinging as tears blurred his sight.

He thumbed Harry's sunken cheek and gently shook him, searching for any sight of consciousness. Harry's head lolled backwards, the top knots of his vertebrae faintly cracking as the air bubbles popped. Louis blanched at the sound, instantly fisting his matted hair to keep him upwards.

"Come on, Harry," Louis said louder, determination seeping into his bones. Without thinking about it, he reared his hand backwards and roughly slapped Harry across the face, urging him on as he gritted out, "You're not giving up on me now. C'mon, little swallow, let's see those pretty green eyes."

There was a moment of nothing but stagnant noise cowering into the space between them, Louis' own heartbeat refusing to break through the silence as he waited for Harry to respond.

Then, ever so slightly, Harry's nose twitched. Louis practically sobbed in relief, his fingers delicately brushing over Harry's clammy skin. He was vaguely aware that he was shaking as he pulled Harry impossibly closer against his chest, wanting to protect him from the self-embarked turmoil that drowned him. Louis faintly pinched the skin against his cheek, pulling a weak groan from the other man.

"Little swallow," Louis quietly murmured, this thumb pressing into the bottom of Harry's chapped lip.

Harry's eyelashes fluttered before they drunkenly blinked open. His eyes were watery as they hazily stared back at Louis, brows pulled together as if he was trying to gauge if Louis was really there. He shifted to lift his fingers, gently pressing them against Louis' lips.

Louis sniffed back a wet laugh, "There you are."

It took a moment before Harry shook his head and slurred out, "Yuh're not really 'ere." His face pinched as he let his fingers lamely slump from Louis' lips. Harry curled into Louis' stomach, mumbling something into his jacket that sounded like, "Not really 'ere."

"I am," Louis firmly said as he carded his fingers into Harry's hair, wincing as the tendrils knotted around his digits. He scratched Harry's skull, pulling a quiet whimper from the other man, "I'm not going anywhere."

When Harry incoherently mumbled in response, his body beginning to lax once more, Louis shook him. Harry pouted and peeked his eyes open again and if it wasn't for the circumstances, Louis would have been endeared by his disgruntled state. As it was, Louis was still somewhere in panic mode where he needed to make sure Harry was going to be okay.