Impulse

Chapter 30

*NARRATOR'S POV*

"Is he sleeping?" Edward asks distractedly over his shoulder.

Harry, who was fairly comfortable serving as a personal body pillow for Louis, can't fall asleep because he's worried that he won't be up when he needs to be. If Louis had another nightmare, he needed to be awake to take care of him.

"Yeah." Harry rolls his head to the side, almost off the seat. "He's sleeping again."

"Do we need anything? That-" Edward points to a gas station just before the toll point. "-is the last thing we'll see for five hours."

"We don't need anything." Harry clears his throat and shifts with Louis when the boy shuffles closer, seeking the warmth of another person.

"What's he doing?"

Edward could hear the movement and always wanted to know what their petal was doing, how he did it and why. It's his compulsion, his own personal obligation that tied him to Louis because he simply had to know everything concerning the boy he loved so much.

"Feelin' restless, I think. He's still asleep." Harry is kind enough inform Edward who will risk their lives to look over in the back-seat if he hadn't told him.

"He hasn't been sleeping well." Edward sighs as he moves from an on-ramp to the biggest freeway between counties.

"He slept for ten hours when we left Middleston." Harry reminds him, curling his arm around Louis' shoulders and holding him extra close.

"Yes and that's the last peaceful sleep he had." His older brother replies, soft in volume so as not to disturb their petal. "We should be taking him up to our cabin."

Harry immediately tenses over and removes the earphones from the hiding place between the blankets to place it in Louis' ears. He can't take a chance. That's an awful part of their history and he can't have his precious petal knowing one bit about it. Not even the Madhouse criminal records have it.

"We boarded that place up, Edward." Harry frowns at his sibling who is driving. "You and I promised to never go back there."

"I don't remember making such a promise, Harry."

Harry's blood started to boil but not because of his brother but because he hoped strongly that the lie about the cabin would work. That place is his personal Hell and sanctuary, he hates it as much as he craves to be back in it. Such a thing can't happen again or he'll never recover.

"We're not going there." He says with a strict sense of moral finality. "We can't risk it."

"It's the ideal place for him and you know it."

Their cabin - still leased under their family name - stood as a strong shack construction in the middle of the wilderness. It was safe enough to not have lurking predators outside maybe a few wolves at night, and resourceful enough to have does and deer everyday.

It really was any nature-lovers ideal hangout as it was constructed on a lake's dock, the water always healthy blue with animals in and around to create the perfect scenery. Harry almost regrets the fact that they ruined it for any of those nature-lovers by building a cellar, and then filling that cellar with morbid equipment.

They took lots of people up there - close to two dozen - during vacations and weekends from the time they were of age and learning to polish their talent for thirsting after blood. The kill was always the best up there in their quaint little cabin.

The cabin with its flowering tree companion is also why Louis is called petal. Every fall when the leaves fell, this beautiful tree would drop petals onto the cabin's roof. They were the lightest pink with the softest texture.