Sinister - Larry Stylinson

Part Seven

Louis slammed his back up against the door as soon as they made it home, as though he was keeping out some monster. He glanced over at the boy, who had an exhausted look on his face, he glanced over at the man who was pale as a sheet.

"You okay, Louis?" Harry dryly chuckled, Louis shot him a weak glare. He was still trembling.

"What do you think, Harry?" He snapped, shuffling to the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine. He seriously needed some alcohol. He poured himself a liberal glass, palming it and taking one large gulp, which made his eyes water.

Harry was in front of him, gazing down at him with a glassy stare. A distant smile was on his lips, "Alcohol won't help, trust me." Although he tried to sound arrogant, Louis could pick out the uncomfortable feeling that alcohol brought the boy.

That sparked an idea; a gruesome idea that not many psychiatrists or therapists used anymore, but it could give quite the substantial results.

Although they hadn't found the "bodies" Harry was so positive he had placed in the forest behind his old home, Louis had a gut feeling there was something much more tied to that incredibly intelligent brain of his.

With the slight buzz of alcohol in his system, he set the glass on the counter and pushed past the boy. In his room, he ripped open his sock drawer, rummaging his hand around in its depths before he found the other little cartridge at the back that Harry hadn't found earlier.

He palmed it and stepped back out into the living area, Harry, who was staring at him with keen curiosity. When his eyes settled on what was in the man's hands, his brows furrowed and a dark expression consumed his face.

Louis recalled just that morning- and mentally he almost collapsed- today had been so incredibly long. That morning, when Harry had smelt the smoke, he had an immense emotional reaction, which even for Harry was unusual.

Little triggers like that were good at bringing out past memories.

"Harry," Louis said in a wavering, but fairly determined tone, "Come here."

The boy snickered darkly, "What the fuck are you going to do to me, Louis?"

He winced, "Come here." He tried to make himself more bold, but felt his heart race slightly faster. Harry rolled his eyes, but finally obeyed and sauntered over to the man.

With much coaxing and frustration, Louis had the boy restrained in a chair in his room. The boy writhed before him, making frustrated noises and twisting his wrists against the ropes. Harry threw an absolute death glare at the man who closed the door, glancing brokenly at him. A pang of guilt chilled his veins as he sat in the chair opposite to the boy.

"Fuck you." Harry spat, his muscles tense and eyes wide with loathing. Louis gulped.

"Harry, please, calm down." He somehow captured his even voice, the one he used when talking to patients. Harry didn't, he just let out a low groan, banging his feet against the floor in frustration.

"Harry," he chastised quietly, "I need you to be calm for this." He stood up from his chair, placing his hands on either sides of the boy's chair, leering over him and pressing a kiss to his forehead. From his forehead, he lightly placed kisses down his temples, to his jaw and to the base of his ear. "Shhh."

Harry finally relaxed, closing his eyes and let out a long, broken sigh. "Breathe in, breathe out." Louis chanted quietly, soothingly, tracing his fingers along the boy's cheeks before stepping back and sitting down in his chair.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Louis listening to his slowly steadying breath, and Harry sat, finally perfectly relaxed, eyes closed, and almost asleep, when Louis drew a cigarette from the pack.