Wild Hearts Run Free

Chapter 5

There's a tightness around Louis' chest, like something is squeezing him, rocking him, and there's a ringing in his ears, high-pitched and muffling all other sounds. His hole is clenching, pulsing tiny amounts of slick out and there's a deep ache inside of him, like an emptiness that feels endless.

His body is uncooperative as he tries to move, sore and boneless, but there's a calmness that is grounding him too. He's parched, so thirsty he could drink an ocean's worth, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and his eyes feel like they've been glued shut.

Far off in the distance he hears a voice, deep and strained. There's a cadence he recognizes, almost rhythmic, strangely melodic to Louis' ears even though it's monotone.

The words filter in slowly, like they've had to travel a long distance to reach him and the syllables have become jumbled on their journey. He concentrates as hard as he can, trying to piece them together in the right order to make sense of them.

He's so tired though. Spent. Nothing left to give. His entire being drained of its essence, its spark, its life force, and all that's left is a shell of who he once was.

His omega is thankfully quiet. No longer clawing at his insides. Maybe it's given in too, he muses.

His mouth is suddenly filled with gloriously cool water, sliding down his throat, and he gulps eagerly, relishing in the relief it provides. Something is dabbing at his cheeks, wiping away the salty crust from the countless tears he's shed. His fringe is swept off his forehead, a hand carding through his knotted hair to smooth it out.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should never have left you," the voice says, coming through clearer now, pain and regret laced between each phrase.

Louis whines, trying to reach out, but he can't summon the strength to lift his arm.

"Please, Lou. Please come back to me."

"Harry," Louis manages to croak out. "Alpha," he says and inhales deeply, the familiar scent filling his senses.

He hears crying, and it takes a moment to realize it's coming from himself, so disoriented and confused that he can barely make sense of anything at all. He tries to open his eyes to see Harry, but it's a struggle, like they're weighed down, his fresh tears finally easing the way for him to blink them open.

The first thing he sees is Harry's beautiful green eyes, the flecks of gold practically glowing in the lamplight. Harry is cradling him in his arms, against his chest which is covered by his flannel shirt. He's wiping under Louis' eyes with a damp cloth and Louis watches as a single tear drop glides down Harry's cheek. He looks so worried, his brows knitted together and his lips pursed like he's trying to hold back his emotions, but it's a fruitless effort when they're so clearly written all over his face.

"Lou," Harry breathes out. "Thank god. I thought- I thought I'd lost you. You were, fuck. You were barely breathing."

"Heats are shit," Louis says, the effort of getting the words out scratching at his throat, but it's worth it to see the smile that blooms on Harry's face.

Harry chuckles. "Yeah. Proper shit."

"I made a mess of your bed. It's like a cloud. Did you know?"

"I did know, thank you, and I couldn't care less about the mess. You scared the crap out of me."

"Scared the crap out of myself."

"I'm so sorry. I had no idea-"

"Hey, it's okay. I didn't either. I feel a bit better now though. What did you do?"