Forest Greens (Larry Stylinson/AU)

Eyes

*don't forget to join the "lyrics for Louis " fan project!! 💖💖💖*

Twenty-eight minutes soon passed by and Harry was still nowhere to be seen. Bored, Louis paced back and forth in the living room, taking in the many framed cat pictures that Harry had displayed on his walls. "The man must love cats..." Louis mumbled with a hint of sarcasm.

A few more minutes had went by and it eventually became clear that Harry wasn't going to be returning any time soon. "Fuck it." Louis huffed as he began to walk towards the kitchen.

He was starving; he hadn't had any breakfast yet, after all, it was only five-fifty o'clock in the morning and he had imagined himself to have reached town just in time for breakfast if his car hadn't malfunctioned.

Louis wandered around the large kitchen and examined all the drawers and cupboards, scavenging for something edible to calm his growling stomach.

Unable to find anything, Louis made his way to the big, grey fridge that hid in the very left corner of the kitchen. He gripped onto its long handle and swung it open, revealing small, bright, white lights that flickered on as the door moved further away from the rest of the fridge. Inside, were rows of food stored on six different shelves. "Here we go." He grinned to himself. It didn't take long for Louis to find his breakfast as he pulled out a loaf of sliced bread, a packet of sliced ham and some cheese.

Louis travelled back into the living room, munching on the ham and cheese sandwich that he had constructed earlier in the kitchen and plopped himself onto one of the cabriole couches.

As he ate, he began to realise how quiet this house was... how quiet the forest itself was when he and Harry had jogged through it... he thought about how silent everything seemed to be within those trees; it was so quiet that every step he took against the gravel path slightly echoed through the woods; there were no birds or night critters chirping at all either...nothing, no sound nor movement except for that of Harry's and himself.

Louis hated silence. It made him feel as if he were helpless, that if he were to call out for someone, no one would hear him. He felt small within the quietude; Minuscule. Microscopic. Unimportant.
This was most likely the unspoken cause to his energetic and proactive persona; loud, obnoxious and annoying, but he felt as if he had to be; He was the type of man who would've rather screamed repetitively in a room than to let the silence slowly drag him into a madness.

Soon, the sound of boots striding against the carpeted floor could be heard and Louis shot his head up to face the direction of the noise. Not long after, Harry appeared from the left hallway gripping his baseball bat which he then placed against the frame of the front door.

"Hey, took you long enough, did you have f-" Louis was cut off by Harry who shot him a glare good enough to appear in a horror movie.

"What are you doing?" He questioned, slowly moving closer to the couch Louis was currently sitting on.

"Ummm eating my breakfast?" Louis replied in a "matter-of-fact" tone. He then noticed an annoyed Harry mumbling something soft and inaudible towards him.

"Sorry, what?" Louis asked.

"Stop eating on the sofa, stop eating on the sofa-"

"Stop what? I cant really understa-"

"Stop eating on the sofa, stop eating on the sofa, get off the fucking sofa stop eating on the sofa," Harry's mumbles gradually grew more aggressive and loud, loud enough for Louis to finally make sense of the man's words.

"Ohhhh, you want me to stop eating on the sofa? Alright mate, a little louder next time ey?" Louis shrugged as he pushed himself off the couch, Harry eyeing him the entire time. Louis could clearly hear the forceful exhalations that escaped Harry's perfectly straight nose as he walked past him. Louis walked away confused; he couldn't understand the reasons as to why Harry got so agitated at him for eating a mere sandwich on the couch. "It's just a sandwich," he thought, "wanker".

°°° °°° °°° °°° °°° °°° °°° °°° °°° °°° °°°

In was now ten-fifteen 'o'clock in the morning, roughly about four hours since the strange "sofa commotion" took place. During this time, Louis had left the house to go and quickly grab a few things from his car. During the walk, he hummed a few "happy" tunes to himself in an attempt to drown out the eerie silence.

As he travelled further down the path, he couldn't help but feel like as if he was being watched by something, or...someone. He hesitantly shook off this disturbing thought, resting on the hopes that his imagination had gotten the better of him.

Finally, Louis had reached his car, which expectantly, looked exactly the way he'd left it a few hours ago. He didn't know why, but as he gazed at the car, he felt a slight sense of security spark within him.

Louis dug into the back pocket of his jeans then frowned in confusion. He then sunk his hands into his front pockets when panic set upon him.

Desperately, he patted his upper body, all the way down to his lower half, then, it dawned on him: "Shit!" He hissed as he covered his face with his hands. He then moved closer to the car and leaned his forehead against the cold, glass window of the vehicle and peered inside. To his dismay, he found himself staring at his car-key which was still lodged into it's keyhole.

He needed to get a duffel bag of clothes out of the car, but, being the forgetful chav he was, Louis had locked himself out by accident.

Knowing the only other suitable form of entry, he left the road and began to scan the forest grounds for a large stick. A few minutes later, he returned to his car with a thick, metre-long stick in his hands.

Positioning the stick like baseball bat, he shut his eyes and began his attempts to smash the back-right window of his car. During the action, he kept reminding himself that his car was okay- that the mechanic could just fix his window while fixing the car itself, but, for some unknown reason, Louis felt as if the car was a friend, a companion of his. He felt as if he were beating his own child but as much as he tried, Louis couldn't get the image out of his mind.

With a final whack, the window shattered to pieces and glass shards laid scattered on the ground below the car. Huffing, Louis dropped the stick and faced downwards to stare into the shards, just to find his own reflection staring back at him. He shut his eyes and blew out a heavy breath of air, before finishing the job.

Caring not to scratch his arm against the jagged window frame, Louis reached into the car and grabbed hold of the blue duffel bag. As he tugged on the handle, Louis heard the sounds of shuffling leaves behind him. Startled, he dropped the bag and turned around to face the forest which suddenly seemed ominous. "Who's there?..." he called out. No reply. Louis furrowed his brows in concern before hesitantly turning back to the car to retrieve his bag.

The walk back to the house was a torment for Louis; The path felt more uneasy to him than when he had first left. No longer had he the courage to hum joyous tunes to himself even though the silence had his ears ringing. 

As much as he tried to barricade his mind from the chilling thoughts that constantly bombarded those walls , he could've sworn the presence of a deathly pair of eyes watching every step he took. The whole journey overall was disturbingly unnerving.