In Too Deep (Dancing With The Shadows)

twenty one

Four years ago today, Louis had the horror to watch his brother's life dim from his eyes as he got strangled to death. 

Four years ago today, Louis had to have the hard time in telling his family through broken sobs and shock that their little brother was killed, and all he could do was watch. 

Four years ago today, Louis' mum saw him as nothing but a monster, Lottie saw him as nothing but a reminder that she would never have a brother she deserved.

Four years ago today, the world Louis knew it, had demolished into darkness and sorrow and guilt.

He's already cried once this morning at five when the nightmares brewed in his mind and lashed out. 

He's pacing at the moment. Up and down in the living room upstairs, hands tugging at his hair to try and distract himself from the pain, which comes to no avail. His breaths are shaky, there's snot dribbling down his nose, mixing with the tears that have already made passed his cheeks. He can barely breathe, can feel the tightness in his chest squeezing more air from his lungs. 

Felicite already sent him a text this morning, telling him to keep strong and that he's in her thoughts today. But he can't keep strong, he's weak.

Like Harry said, he's a fucking coward. 

Thanks to his own fear, he had to stand there and watch his tiny helpless baby brother get murdered. 

He has the urge to burn, to cut, to bleed, to get rid of all this pain and replace it with the numbness of a blade or a flame. He just can't bring it in himself to step forward toward the bathroom, afraid he will collapse before he gets there.

There's a knock on the door, a slight tap, tap and he frantically looks over his shoulder, shallow breaths wracking his chest. He watches Peter walk in and Louis' bottom lip quivers. 

"I- I can't... Dad, I can't," is all he heaves out, before the dam breaks from within and there's a flood of emotions pouring through him, causing his knees to buckle and a wail to leave his cracked lips.

Peter catches him before he can sink to the carpet, holding him close in his arms. Louis grips so tightly onto his dad that he's surprised he hasn't broken a bone. 

"I wan-nt to," is all Louis gives between sobs. 

Peter holds him that much tighter, nosing the boy's hair and gives him a kiss to the forehead. "You are not going to. Owen wouldn't want you to. Remember when you grazed your knee after trying to teach him to skateboard and you fell off? Remember what he said?"

Louis nods. Of course he does, even if the voice isn't the same one as his brother produced, the words are still there, embedded deep in his memory. 

"He said he didn't want to see you hurt. That it made him sad. Do you think him knowing you deliberately do so, will make him happy?" Peter gives gently. He's not trying to guilt trip Louis, not in the slightest. He's trying to open his fucking eyes to see that this pain he wants to inflict on himself isn't the way to go about this. 

Louis shakes his head. "No," he croaks out. "'M s-sorry, Dad."

"Nothing for you to apologise for. It was Benjamin's fault, not yours. You did nothing wrong. Come now, son, why don't you get those tulips from the garden, hm? I won't tell Grandma that you picked them if you won't," Peter gives, knocking his knuckles softly against Louis' cheek.

Louis wipes at his eyes, takes a few deep breaths. Fresh air sounds good right now. And he'd love to get the tulips and lay them in Owen's special place. He's been doing it the past three years, he's not going to give up doing it now. It's the least he can do for his baby brother.