The wanted murderer L.S.

Safe Space.

Deep in the night, Louis was awake again, gazing at his dinosaur nightlight and how the colours changed from various blues and reds and whites and back again. He'd fallen into many daydreams since he'd woken up, from ones about his friends and family, to obscure topics like whether or not mice became sad upon seeing another mouse in a trap.

As another daydream ended, Louis dragged himself back to the reality of his warm bed, and the loud snores coming from his brother in the room beside his. To anyone else, the sound might be considered unbearable, but Louis loved it. The repetition of the noise was his comfort, as was knowing that his 'safe person' was nearby.

Louis expected to hear Zayn's softer snores as well, but as he strained his ears, he became more and more conscious that Zayn didn't seem to be in the bed with Liam anymore. There was no rustle of sheets, nor footsteps or creaking; and it was as if Zayn had never come over in the first place.

Louis sat up and walked over to the curtains, pushing them aside and opening the double door just enough to squeeze though.

Just as he'd guessed, there sat Zayn on the grass, wrapped in Liam's dressing gown, and gazing up at the stars as if he were visiting an old friend. Yet this time, as he prayed his wished to the moon, someone else prayed with him.

By Zayn's side-holding a ginger cat in his arms while the tip of his cigarette glowed-sat Harry.

The men's voices carried ever so softly on the summer breeze. They spoke from the heart like all lovers do. A heart not bound by romance or lust, but by an artist's unfortunate obsession with his artwork. An obsession that returned again and again, be it through his art or his own damn mind.
Harry was always there, as was he there, now.

As Louis watched from the balcony, Harry raised a hand to him, flicking two fingers in a beckoning motion. Louis shook his head, unwilling to disturb their peace. Zayn turned his head soon after, cigarette casting deep shadows over his face. He beckoned Louis over as well, patting the ground by his side.

Louis bit his nails, a little shy, before hooking his hands in the vines and climbing down them carefully. He walked over to the men, curling his toes in the soft grass. Zayn smiled at him.

"Didn't think you'd climb down there. Here, sit." He said, and Louis sat. "Can't sleep?"

Louis shook his head and pulled his knees up. "I wake up sometimes."

Louis nodded. He crossed his legs and held the cat upright until he felt comfortable, looking out from behind her ears.

"What are you doing outside?" he asked Zayn, and then to both, he said, "What are you doing?"

"I don't sleep well, either." Zayn said, putting his cigarette out so Louis wouldn't breathe in the smoke. Harry did the same. "Never have, never Will. A couple of hours is enough. Besides, Liam's a noisy bastard, isn't he? I don't blame you for waking up, Louis."

Louis laughed and rocked back and forth, stopping when the cat became agitated.

He brushed his lips over the cat's fur, turning his eyes to Harry who seemed to be scowling over some daydream he was in.

Louis nudged him with his foot. Harry continued to scowl until he was nudged a little harder. He looked at Louis.

"And you?" he asked, "You're not supposed to be here."
"Where am I supposed to be?"
"I don't know. For many reasons, it makes no sense for you to be here."

Harry twirled the rose ring around his finger and shrugged, "I was looking for a safe space. It lead me here. That makes sense to me."

"Why?" Louis asked,
"Why what?"
"Are you sad?"
"I'm not sad."
"You're not happy."
"No."