Stranded/ Larry Stylinson

Chapter 17

3rd Person POV
Finally, the sound of a car pulling up outside broke through Louis' thoughts. He rushed to the door and opened it to find Liam standing there, his expression serious.

"Show me," Liam said, stepping inside.

Louis led him to the living room, where Harry's phone and the drops of blood were still on the floor. Liam examined the scene carefully, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"We need to call the police," Liam said finally. "This isn't something we can handle on our own."

Louis nodded, feeling a surge of relief at Liam's calm and logical approach. He quickly dialed the emergency number and explained the situation to the operator, his voice shaking with fear.
————

The next few hours were a blur of activity. The police arrived, taking statements and searching the house for any clues. Louis could barely keep himself together, his mind consumed with worry for Harry.

As the night wore on, there was still no sign of Harry. The police assured Louis that they would do everything in their power to find him but it did little to ease his fear.

Liam stayed by Louis' side, offering support and reassurance. "We'll find him, Lou. I promise. Harry's strong. He'll make it through this."

Louis nodded, trying to hold onto that hope. But as the hours dragged on, the fear that something terrible had happened to Harry only grew stronger.

He couldn't lose Harry. Not after everything they had been through. They had fought so hard to be together, to overcome the obstacles in their way. He couldn't bear the thought of losing him now.

As the first light of dawn began to creep through the windows, Louis made a silent vow. He would find Harry, no matter what it took. He wouldn't rest until Harry was back in his arms, safe and sound.

Just then Louis' handy lit up with a message.

„I told you I was going to hurt him if you didn't break up with him. Now you're out, together again and broke your promise, so I'll break mine. Get ready to say goodbye."

---
Day 1

Louis barely slept the night Harry went missing. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Harry's face, pale and scared, surrounded by darkness. The police were in and out of their house, searching for clues, questioning neighbors, and trying to piece together what had happened. The air was thick with tension, and the ticking clock on the wall seemed to mock the passing hours with no sign of Harry.

By morning, the living room was a chaos of discarded coffee cups, crumpled tissues and exhausted faces. Louis sat hunched over on the couch, his eyes bloodshot and ringed with dark circles, his fingers nervously tapping on his knee. He hadn't changed out of the clothes he wore the previous day and his usually neat hair was disheveled, a testament to the turmoil inside him.

The doorbell rang, jolting Louis from his stupor. Niall arrived first, his face pale and drawn, his eyes wide with concern. "Any news?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile hope they clung to.

Louis shook his head, unable to hold back the tears that filled his eyes. "Nothing. They haven't found anything," he choked out, his voice breaking.

Niall stepped forward and pulled Louis into a hug, holding him tightly. "We'll find him, mate. We have to," he murmured, trying to offer some comfort. The two friends clung to each other, drawing strength from their shared pain.

Zayn arrived soon after, his expression mirroring the same mix of fear and determination. He glanced around the room, taking in the disarray and the haunted look in Louis' eyes. He joined them in the living room, where the silence was heavy with worry.