Stockholm (Larry AU)

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

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The door slammed shut as the kidnapper left the room, not looking back at Louis even once. Not caring to see how bad he had hurt him. The feathered-hair boy lay still on the ground, eyeing the door, hoping and as if commanding it to be opened and for Harry to rush back in. He wasn't sure what he wanted, whether it was forgiveness he knew he didn't deserve, or for Harry to care and mend him, also something he knew he didn't deserve. He just wanted for Harry to come back. 

The way he had left, it seemed like he had given up, on Louis and on anything ever fixing itself between them. It was as if he requested Louis to give up too. Like he was tired of Louis, and even though that hurt him too much, if it made Harry happy, he might consider giving up. 

The thought of surrender crawled through his mind, that maybe there was no reason in begging Harry, ultimately making him miserable. He had seen the look on his face, the look of misery and torture that was worn upon Harry's features as he heard Louis' apology. It was like it physically stung him, like it ripped up his heart, for whatever reason. Harry was on the edge, and he would do anything to stop the words that poured out of his mouth. He had asked his captive to stop, but Louis didn't, and so Harry had to resort to extreme measures, resulting in a beaten up Louis lying on the ground. 

Louis didn't blame him, not at all. It was actually himself who was to blame. He pushed Harry too far, too fast. He put him on the verge of insanity, and Harry was just trying to make it stop. It was his form of defense against the pain he felt, and Louis knew that completely. He knew that it was his own fault, he was in the position he was in. It was his own fault Harry was put in so much pain to be so uncontrollable, and whether or not Harry ever forgives him, he knows he will never be able to forgive himself. 

But at the same time, he'd also never forgive himself if he let Harry go, if he let this beautiful, innocent boy slip through the cracks. His heart didn't want to let Harry go, truly. He couldn’t let Harry go. Deep down inside, he knew Harry once had feelings for him, and feelings as strong as those don't go away so quick. He knew that Harry's weren't gone, not yet, and Louis was going to bring them back. He was going to get Harry back, or die trying. And at the rate he was hurt and bleeding, that death didn't seem to be too far away. 

His body lay motionless on the ground, looking dead, his eyes drooping close from the bright lights that were blinding him. His thoughts were bombarded, being the only things that required any attention. The pain almost numbed out and forgotten, even though the blood hadn't stopped. He was laying in a pool of his own blood, his head throbbing, his body covered in open cuts and purple bruises, his hair mussed and the ends of it wet from the blood, not to mention his still body; it was a truly sickening, heartbreaking sight. 

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Sobs wrecked through Harry's body as he tried to calm himself down under the covers. But the more that you try to stop, the more you cry. The cries were ear-piercing, loud and shameful. He couldn't believe he had gone as far as to ruin his hostage. Not only was it his job to not hurt him and to keep him safe, but when he agreed to this he made a vow to himself to not make Louis' life any miserable than it needs to be. And he broke that. 

By hitting and punching and kicking, Harry had not only physically abused Louis but also emotionally. The poor boy was asking for forgiveness and for some reason Harry had let it get to him too much, resulting in his uncontrollable actions.

It was after an hour of his cries that he calmed down and walked over to the wall they shared, collapsing beside it, pinning his ear to it. There was some movement clearly heard on the other side, some scuffing and roughing and a few cuss words that left Louis' pretty, pure lips after falling objects were heard.