nothing // larry stylinson au

Chapter Seven

Shock overrides him. There's no pain. Harry's felt this way too much to experience pain. He's numb. His cheek is numb. He's on the floor looking up at the fool in front of him. The monster. Satan's daughter herself. Something that Harry can't even see a sweet soul being buried inside her little cold, shriveled heart.

Then pain comes. It stings, and his tears burn trails down the red skin as if vinegar were poured onto bleeding wounds. It hurts, everything hurts. Harry's crying out in pain and Eleanor only hisses at him for accusing her as a liar.

But she is. That's all she is. A monstrous liar. She's got a whipping hand and sharp claws and vicious eyes and snarky teeth and she's everything Harry hates. Harry hates Eleanor. How is Louis surviving with her? She's everything like his uncle. Shit. She's every single bit like his uncle. His uncle is no different. Eleanor's fuming just as bad as he does. Eleanor has her hand up again, ready to backlash on a second smack of misery. Harry weeps out. He doesn't shout for Louis. He doesn't scream and cry. He stays as silent as he can; just like his uncle used to demand for him to do.

"You want to keep up with your bullshit, Harry?" Eleanor snarls. Harry knows it's not bullshit. None of it's bullshit. He doesn't want to listen to a devil. The devil is a liar. He doesn't say a word, however. His face burns. Asking for another is going to send Harry to panic.

"L-Lou didn't lie," Harry bravely pronounces. "He wouldn't lie..."

"You want to bet? Louis is a fucking liar. I know he is. He always lies to me. Every morning and night, he comes to me and hisses at how much of a worthless bastard you are." She tucks her foot under Harry's hip and kicks into him to roll him over. "Lou. Ha, he laughs at your nicknames."

"Stop it!" Harry hisses. "Stop it, please. He doesn't laugh at me. H-He says that I'm nice—"

A slap clean across the other cheek and Harry's left with a nose into the carpet, crying out for Louis. She crouches down beside him, voice low to the ground. Harry's wails are muffled by the fluffy flooring. He can't lift himself up with Eleanor taking him down.

"You tell Louis about this," Eleanor starts, "I'll say you attacked me. I used to do a lot of make-up back in the day, Harry. I can make it look like I was cut with a million knives. I'll say you punched me, and you know what will happen? I'll take you away, make you get sent to a family in Cairns, Brisbane, even. You don't want that, do you?"

Harry squeaks. "N-No, madam."

"So we both know what's going to happen after this, hm?" Eleanor smiles artificially. "Gonna pretend you got that towel for Louis and that you tripped a little, aren't you?"

"Yes."

She stands up and nudges her toe between one of Harry's ribs. "Good," she says. "Up now. Don't want to leave my husband waiting. Do you?"

Harry picks himself up and watches as Eleanor leaves the room, heading into the kitchen. Harry squabbles to pick up the towel and run back into the bathroom to hang the towel on the rack. Louis has heard him, saying a small thank you, but Harry doesn't hear it. He's out of the room and into Louis' room with no words. He hides himself with a pillow between his arms.

It's a shock to see Harry like this. Louis still has a towel around himself five minutes later when he pops out, changing quick and noticing that Harry's indeed just as small as one of the head pillows at the top of the bed. Louis sits at the edge of the bed, hand between Harry's shoulder blades and wow, he's still so very skinny. Louis frowns at how tense Harry becomes when Louis' touch rests in place.

"Harry," he calls, hoping for some response other than his jagged breathing. "Are you okay, love?"

Harry can't speak. Everything will spill out if he does. He doesn't want to leave. He can't leave Louis. He doesn't want to move into some foreign place. They don't have a Louis, but sure as hell those places don't have an Eleanor either. Harry just doesn't want to leave here yet. Louis is taking care of him. He knows Eleanor's a liar. Louis wouldn't waste his time if he didn't care.