Through the Dark

Broken Nights

Louis had heard rumors about a certain club on the outskirts of town—a place where secrets were kept behind locked doors and whispers echoed through the darkened hallways. It wasn't the type of place Louis frequented, but curiosity, mixed with concern, had driven him there one Friday night.

The club was dimly lit, the air thick with a haze of smoke and the scent of cheap cologne. Louis stepped inside, the music thumping against his chest, and scanned the room. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, or who, until his eyes landed on a familiar face.

Harry.

But it wasn't the Harry he knew. This Harry was different—dressed in tight, black leather pants and a fitted shirt that clung to his torso. His eyes were dark, shadowed with something Louis couldn't quite place. He was leaning against the bar, a forced smile playing on his lips as he chatted with a man much older than him.

Louis's heart dropped.

He'd always known Harry had his secrets. They all did. But this? This was something he hadn't expected. Louis watched as Harry handed the man a drink, the exchange between them too intimate, too practiced.

Summoning every ounce of courage, Louis approached the bar. The closer he got, the more he noticed—the way Harry's hand trembled slightly as he handed the drink over, the way he avoided eye contact, and the way he flinched when the man touched his arm.

"Harry," Louis called softly, but his voice was drowned out by the music.

Harry didn't see him at first. He was too focused on the man, on doing whatever he needed to do to get through the night. But then, as Louis reached out and touched his arm, Harry turned.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, time stood still.

"Louis?" Harry's voice was a mixture of shock and fear.

Louis couldn't find the words, the million questions that were swirling in his mind unable to form into coherent sentences. But he didn't need to say anything—Harry already knew what Louis was thinking.

"I—I didn't want you to find out like this," Harry stammered, pulling away from the man and stepping closer to Louis. "I can explain."

But Louis wasn't sure if he wanted to hear an explanation, not here, not now. All he could see was the pain in Harry's eyes, the desperation he had never noticed before.

"Harry, what are you doing here?" Louis finally managed to ask, his voice laced with concern.

Harry glanced around the room, his shoulders slumping as the weight of his reality settled over him. "I needed the money," he whispered, the words barely audible over the music. "I didn't have a choice."

Louis's chest tightened. He wanted to pull Harry out of there, to take him far away from this place, from whatever had driven him to such a desperate situation. But he knew it wasn't that simple.

"Let's get out of here," Louis said gently, reaching for Harry's hand.

For a moment, Harry hesitated, glancing back at the man at the bar. But then he nodded, the slightest hint of relief crossing his face as he took Louis's hand.

As they left the club, the cold night air hit them, a stark contrast to the suffocating atmosphere inside. Harry shivered, and Louis instinctively wrapped an arm around him.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," Harry murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Louis shook his head. "You don't have to apologize. Just... let me help you."

Harry looked up at Louis, his eyes filled with uncertainty, but also hope. "I don't know if you can," he admitted.

Louis tightened his hold on Harry. "We'll figure it out together."

And as they walked into the night, away from the club and the darkness that had surrounded Harry for far too long, Louis knew that whatever happened next, he wasn't going to let Harry face it alone.