Bang & Blame [Larry Stylinson]

Chapter Three

Harry wakes to Parker shaking his shoulder. There's a plate of eggs and toast perched on the bedside table, nestled next to a class of orange juice. Parker's eyes are softer than Harry's seen them in a long time.

"Morning, baby," Parker whispers, and Harry's even more confused. "I made you breakfast."

Harry cocks his head to the side. "Okay? Thank you."

"Don't look so surprised." Parker lays his hand on Harry's thigh.

Harry flushes red. "I'm sorry."

Parker leans forward and plants a kiss on his forehead. He takes the plate and lays it on Harry's lap, and then curls up beside him, tucking Harry into his side.

"Eat up, baby. Then we can have a cuddle," he says.

Harry's even more confused. They don't cuddle. Haven't for months. Parker will hug him, hold him under the warm spray of the shower, but they never cuddle. His chest squeezes. This is so much better than he deserves. A reward after how bad he's been lately? Unheard of.

Harry eats quickly but cautiously, careful not to spill anything on the sheets. Parker is so easy to anger, and Harry doesn't want to give him a reason to hit him again. He's not a bad boy, he's not. He's just been distracted.

Parker lays down with him on the mattress, tucks Harry into his side and holds him close. His hands are gentle, his breath soft against Harry's cheek. He brushes a few curls off Harry's forehead, but then he pulls the strands, and Harry is reminded that all of this is only temporary. He'll fuck up sooner or later, and then Parker will be forced to punish him.

"I love you," Parker whispers, and Harry melts into him. Parker rarely ever tells him that.

"I love you, too," Harry says back.

"I'm sorry for going so hard on you yesterday." If the I love yous are rare, apologizing is even rarer. "But I had to show you that you couldn't get away with it. You can't cheat on me and expect me to go light on you."

"I didn't cheat on you," Harry says, his voice barely an octave above a whisper.

"But you thought about it," Parker says, and Harry doesn't have the energy to protest anymore. "I had to punish you, Harry. You were a bad boy."

Harry frowns. "I'm not bad."

"You are," Parker says. "But I'm here to make you good. You think anyone else but me is going to love you?"

"No," Harry whispers. "I'm lucky to have you."

"That's right, and don't you forget it." Parker kisses him on the head. "I'm going to run to the bathroom. Don't move, you got that?"

Harry nods meekly. "I got it."

As soon as Parker leaves the room, Harry rolls out of bed, ignoring the aching pain he's plagued with every time he moves. He opens his sock drawer as quietly as he can and fumbles for the cell phone he's managed to keep secret from Parker for seven months. It's buried under every pair of socks, wrapped up in one of them and always kept on silent. He's managed to hide it for ages, but he knows Parker will kill him if he finds it.

He powers on the phone, but there are no notifications clouding his feed. There's a software update and an email sign in request, but that's it. Carefully, Harry clicks on his text message app and his conversations with Niall instantly pop up. They're dated from seven months ago, around the time Parker banned him from having a phone, and eventually, friends.

The last thing they had talked about was Parker. It's right there, how in love Harry used to be with him. He had told Niall about something sweet Parker had done, and Niall had responded pleasantly. Encouragingly. Now he's anything but suspicious and concerned.