From Everything That Was (Till Everything That Will Be)

Harry (Present)

"Look at me, look at me, look at me, look at me
Look at me, look at me, look at me, look at me
Because I exist, I exist, I exist, I exist, I exist, I exist"
- I Exist I Exist I Exist, Flatsound

Harry had collected the pieces but he hoped to whatever gods that may be that he was wrong. But how could he not be? Everything added up.

The way Louis had acted when Harry asked if he could make love to him.

Just get on with it.

The way he had acted at seventeen.

Please don't touch me, Patrick!

Harry had talked to Patrick mere weeks ago and now his skin crawled at the thought.

Louis had only been seventeen.

He had been so pure.

Patrick was a man. An old man. And if he had... if he had...

The word was right there in Harry's mind, but it was like he couldn't allow himself to think it. Not at all say it.

Patrick wouldn't, would he? Harry had known him for years.

But then again, people often hid their true face behind a bit of good. Patrick who played cards but also licked his lips whenever he had looked at Harry or Louis. What had then seemed like wisdom in his eyes was now something Harry thought back on and recognised as want. Hunger.

Harry thought back. When had everything escalated?

Harry recalled being on a phone call with Louis the night he came out to his family. To Patrick. He remembered hanging up because someone was knocking on the hatch.

Could that have been—

Harry let out a sob as he stood in his kitchen looking at an old picture. It was a Polaroid of him and Louis when they were both sixteen. They had their arms around each other, laughing. Louis' face held so much youth to it and his eyes a light that Harry hadn't seen since the day.

It must have happened then, hadn't it?

Patrick raped Louis after they hung up.

Raped.

A word often heard but hoped to never get associated with.

Tears spilt from Harry's eyes. It was Tuesday and he hadn't been in for work that day. Only Monday, but he found that he couldn't focus and therefore called in sick today. Just to think. Think over and over again.

"Patrick."

He tasted the word on his lips.

"Patrick."

He looked down at the Polaroid. "Patrick, you fucking piece of scum."

Anger soared through his veins and he reached for his phone. He dialled Zayn.

He was ninety-nine per cent sure Louis would have never told anyone. It seemed that it was something Louis had kept a secret. But why? Maybe he had told Zayn. Harry needed to know.

Zayn picked up on the third dial.

"Zayn," Harry said. "Do you have time?"

"Well, I'm actually at work—"

"Make time," Harry said. "I need to ask you something about Louis."

"Alright," Zayn breathed. "Ask away."