Harry Styles is a sensible, responsible man.
Louis Tomlinson is a rude, disobedient boy.
What happens when Louis' mother is fed up with his behavior and calls the only person she can think to call, her old friend Harry Styles.
Can Louis trust Harry...
Kind of a double update! I posted chapter 28 yesterday, so make sure you have read that one if you saw this notification first!
⚠️ please read at your own digression, potentially triggering material ahead ⚠️
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Harry's POV:
"H-Harry?"
I stirred awake, rubbing my eyes and sitting up in my bed slightly. I squinted before seeing Louis pacing back and forth in my room.
"Louis?" I cleared my throat, my voice coming out horse. "Why are you up?" I tried to understand why he was in my room. Glancing at the clock I saw it was three in the morning, adding to my confusion.
He had never come into my room in the middle of the night before, making me confused at what was happening.
"—b-bad." He stuttered, his breathing shallow. His voice was so quiet I couldn't make out his words, but assumed he was feeling sick or nauseous.
"You're feeling bad?" I immediately got out of bed and walked toward him, wearing a sympathetic face. I stood in front of the teenager and tried to place my hand on his forehead, to see if he had felt warm.
He flinched harshly, jerking his head away from my hand, his wide eyes exuding panic. Up close, I could now see him clearer and realized he wasn't breathing right.
"Woah, hey, are you crying, LouBear? What's happened?" My face fell and my features immediately softened. I felt my chest tighten in nerves as to why he was upset. I tried to pull him in for a hug, but he flinched before taking a step back from me. "Are you hurt?" My concern was growing unbearable when he wouldn't allow me to comfort him.
"I-I... h-he's here." He got out through shallow breaths, his whole body trembling. The tone of his voice made my blood run cold.
I finally understood he was having some kind of a panic attack. I assumed the 'he' was Frank, making my chest bubble in anger at the man.
"He is not here. You're perfectly safe with me." I told him, reaching my hand out slowly toward his shoulder, desperately wanting to comfort the boy, but not wanting to scare him. "He's not here— it's just you and me." I repeated. "You're safe." I mumbled under my breath, hardly listening to my own words and more focused on examining his red and slightly swollen eyes.
"Can I touch you?" I asked softly, my hand hovering near him. He looked up at me with tearful eyes. No response was given.
I hesitantly took a step toward him and sighed in relief when he did not flinch.
"Louis, you're safe." I spoke slowly, my voice just above a whisper.
I slowly worked my way over to him and gently rested a hand on his shoulder. I felt his body jerk in fear and stiffen at my contact.
