Larry Stylinson one shots ♥

To Be The Whisper Of The Fallen

Louis is actually really pretty. Harry takes notice of this somewhere between his first and third drink. He finds it a bit funny that he has been looking at Louis a hell of a lot longer than the girls he's supposed to take home, but he doesn't particularly care much. Louis is very pretty and very nice to look at. Maybe it's it thing. Maybe it doesn't have to be. (It probably is.)

Between drink number 5 and 6 Harry is still looking at Louis, but he's feeling a lot more things now. Things he probably should have thought about before he drank so much alcohol because they've obviously been in his head for a long time and they matter quite a bit. The thoughts circle in his head on an endless loop. "I love Louis- more than a friend." "I'd definitely sleep with him." "We're basically dating already, just without the sex." "He's so pretty." "I love Louis- more than a friend."

.

It's too much for Harry. He can't take any more and he just needs to breathe. He slips unnoticed out the doors of the club and into the crisp night air, carefully wrapping his jacket around his rapidly cooling torso. The air feels so good in his lungs, fresh and burning. It's satisfying. Calming. Harry regains his breath and keeps walking. His head is swimming, and he doesn't know where he is going.

Loud, hurried footsteps snap him out of his thoughts and suddenly Harry is aware that he has no idea where he is. He examines his surroundings and discovers not his location, but the source of the footsteps. Two large men are approaching him quickly, and he averts his gaze, continuing to walk silently, pretending he knows exactly where he is meant to be going.

Forceful hands tear him from his path. He jumps, startled. Looking behind him, he sees the men had followed him. Before he can react, the man with dark, evil eyes covers his mouth and grips his hair harshly, while the other larger one restrains him. 'No no no this isn't happening' Harry thinks as he is dragged behind the nearest building. He can't breathe again. He struggles helplessly and the larger man laughs.

"Come on cutie, we're just having some fun." Harry wants to cry. Then suddenly his hair is released and his mouth is uncovered. He is a little relieved, thinking, 'Okay, they were just playing, I'm okay, it's okay. Breathe, in and out.' Until he feels icicles stroke his stomach and reach teasingly into his pants. Harry wants to scream, but his mouth is full. Full of lips. He cannot move, cannot breathe, cannot function. 'This is really happening.'

His pants are ripped off and before he knows it he is crashing to the ground. His head smashes into the concrete so hard the world becomes one giant blur, but that's okay because he is immediately refocused. Pain has a way of drawing attention, and Harry has never felt so much pain. He is being ripped in half. As the man pounds roughly into him, his heart also feels like it's tearing apart, being shredded. He has never been so ashamed and humiliated, so dirty. His tears form a puddle on the ground, stinging his face as it scrapes along the cement in time with the forceful thrusts. His whole being is on fire.

Harry just wants to die as the man trembles and releases inside of him. The monster stands up, spits over Harry's back, and scrambles away, dragging his friend behind him. Harry strains his eyes and tilts his head in time to see headlights illuminate they man with the cruel eyes' face as he winks. Then they are gone.

Harry doesn't know how long he lies there, but eventually he realizes that he needs to leave before somebody sees him. He slowly maneuvers his way to his feet, almost screaming in pain. He feels worthless. Used. Dirty. Leaning on the brick wall for support, Harry pulls up his pants and straightens up. He takes one big breath and starts out on his way home. Every step is agony.

He doesn't remember how he got home, but before he knew it Harry was at the door to his flat. His fingers trembled as he unlocked the door. He couldn't face anyone right now. He takes a deep breath and prays to anyone willing to listen that nobody is home. But he figures nobody cares anymore and it turns out that all of the boys are in his and Louis' flat. They all turn from the TV and smile warmly at Harry. Harry just can't. He can't do it but he has to. So he puts on the best smile he can muster and tries not to limp.