Harry lasted nearly six days before he snapped.
He had been slowly tensing up day by day, deprived of Louis’ company and craving his touch. Their quiet embrace in the office had done exactly what it had been intended to; it had calmed him, in the first instance. However, it came with a side-effect; having his skin against Louis’ had proved strangely addictive, and Harry’s every waking – and sleeping – moment was filled with torturous longing. This made him easily irritated, and therefore not the most tolerant of people. Harry was like an elastic band being slowly stretched out as far as it would go; inevitably at some point he would break with the strain, and it wouldn’t be pretty.
Everything annoyed him. The four walls of his cell annoyed him. The people he encountered when he left it annoyed him. The familiar surroundings and painful monotony of prison life annoyed him. Miserable people annoyed him – their gloomy expressions made his own bad mood worse. Having said that, cheerful people annoyed him too; what reason did they have to be so happy? Being alone with only his own sharp thoughts for company annoyed him – but having to try and make conversation with people annoyed him as well. Even Louis annoyed him, simply for being himself and stirring such desperate, primal urges deep in Harry’s abdomen, making him hungry in ways he had never thought to experience, sending him longing thoughts every few seconds of exactly what he and Louis could have been doing at that precise moment in time. He couldn’t focus because of his attraction for Louis that was an afterthought to everything he did. Even the slightest thought ended with Louis’ name tacked on the end; Harry wondered what Louis’ opinion would be on something, or he had thought of something Louis had said, or he had an idea for something that would suit Louis. Nothing seemed to catch his attention enough to dismiss these tiny thoughts, which, again, was annoying. Everything was annoying.
Harry gritted his teeth. He wasn’t used to being in such a foul mood; until bloody Adam had turned up, he’d been deliriously happy every single day, and the black mood that he couldn’t shake off was unwelcome.
Speak of the devil – there Adam was, plonked heavily down on a sofa glaring at people. Rude. Harry scowled at him, wishing he had lasers in his eyes that could singe the back of the man’s head. The thought amused him; he spent several minutes musing over what sort of supernatural abilities would be the best for exacting revenge upon people, and exactly what he would do to them if he could. When he resurfaced into the real world, he found the buzz of conversation irritating, and was tempted to stick his fingers into his ears. He could happily have daydreamed for the rest of the day – if the living embodiment of sex itself hadn’t suddenly walked through the double doors and begun striding confidently across the room. Leaning his chin on his hand, Harry let his elbow rest on the arm of his chair and leaned over, watching in silence with a small smile on his face as sex passed him by without a second glance.
Sex personified – or, as most people called him, Louis – had just passed by Adam’s seat, when he paused and turned to look at the pink-faced man lounging on the sofa. An expression of shock crossed his face, quickly followed by hurt. A flash-burn of anger, like lightening, in the bottom of Harry’s stomach had him grabbing the arms of his own chair with both hands, clawing at the fabric to keep himself from leaping up and rushing to Louis’ aid.
Whatever Adam was saying, it was obviously horrible; even if Harry hadn’t had an excellent view of Louis’ miserable face, Adam was so vicious that whenever he opened his mouth, nine times out of ten it was to deliver an insult. With an awful feeling twisting his insides around, Harry stared worriedly at Louis, who was forcing an unconcerned expression but clearly very upset; looking very closely and straining his eyes, Harry could see his bottom lip shaking with effort to hold back any words from coming out. Then, Louis’ face blanked, and hurt blossomed across it in a great wave as he stared, appalled, at Adam. Harry was watching with such a fierce intensity that when Louis’ mouth fell open in horror, he didn’t only notice – it was the unexpected and terrible tear shining on his left cheek that he found himself staring at.
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Imprisoned in my Heart Book 1 (Imprisoned in my heart trilogy...Larry)
FanfictionLouis Tomlinson never imagined that his psychology degree would land him a job in prison. Neither did he expect that he would form such an instant and irreversible connection with Harry Styles, a boy haunted by the memory of the crime he committed...
