Cupid's Defence

Chapter 10

 x.

Court was adjourned. The world spun on.

Louis, though? He was mad.

"Harry," He demanded, following Harry through the court's green-carpeted hallways, "What just happened?"

It shouldn't have gone wrong. His defence shouldn't have wavered; he should not have lost control of his emotions. Sure, Colin should not have pushed him, but Harry had never cracked like that before-- not like that. He'd left the courtroom with nothing more than a shocked look Louis' way, and since that Louis had been wondering, endlessly, what he had done wrong.

"Harry?" He called.

Harry was oddly silent, swaying in his pace, face void of expression. His wings, previously inflamed with anger, were missing, and all Louis could see of him was his back. They rounded another corner, and then, they'd reached one of the waiting rooms. In his haste to reach Harry, Louis hadn't even realised that was where they were headed.

"Harry--" he began, but he was cut off, as Harry opened the door, and slammed it closed behind him.

What? What the fuck was going on? Before Louis could even formulate a response in retaliation, the door had opened once more, and a very sad, and pale looking Harry, was all Louis could see. A dark formulation of curls tumbled across his eye.

"I can't see you right now," was all Harry said, "I'm sorry."

And then: oddly, coldly, silently: he was gone. The door shut once more, like nothing mattered. Louis swooned with resentment, anger, frustration. Soon enough, it all melted into a gaping, consuming sense of confusion.

Harry hadn't even looked at him.

-

Louis.

It was Louis.

Hades, Harry was angry. Angry at himself, for not seeing it sooner. Angry at the clues having been in front of him all this time: Louis having been rejected by a boy, Louis' face upon seeing Colin, the awareness in Harry's mind of him knowing Colin from somewhere...It all added up to that. That guilt. That pain, soaring and sizzling, twisting within Harry like the worst of knives.

He did not know what to do. What to say. He kicked over one of the chairs and began to cry, clutching at himself with a sense of anguish that he could not put out. It felt like the inside of him was burning, and he needed to be free.

Free...

He looked towards the window, pushed it open, and then, he was flying.

Harry did not know where he was going, but knew that the peach-kissed clouds reminded him of home, and all the city had brought him was misery. He knew that he would never return home, because he had failed, miserably, as a god and a friend to Louis both, and the world was crashing down. He knew that he had nothing left to say.

The city was replaced with green, rolling hills, that seemed to last forever. The sight calmed Harry in it's simplicity, and so he landed in one of it's fields, his wings brushing against the wheat. He breathed, roughly so, and wondered why the human world had only ever brought him misery.

A rose petal landed in his palm, and he frowned, sitting up a little. Where did that come from?

"Mother?" he asked, and his voice was cracking.

The wind picked up, and across the wheat, petals were drifting and bouncing, furling into a tornado of flowers. From it, Aphrodite walked, grander and more golden than she'd ever been, colossal in comparison to Harry's human form.