Animal

2

When the Fox hears the Rabbit scream he comes a-runnin', but not to help.

*NARRATOR'S POV*

Louis' heart is pounding, repelling against the constricting walls of his ribcage. He's nervous, anxious and a little afraid all rolled into one fiasco. Nobody's ever told him they were going to throw him on a bed and do 'things' to him before, now it made him cheeks light up and his mind race.

"Harry-"

"Stop talking." Harry grabs his wrist and doesn't bother assisting Louis get off the counter considering the boy has short legs that weren't touching the ground.

Leading him upstairs to the bathroom, Harry flips on the light switch and never let's go of the unfamiliar closure Louis' hand-holding gives him.

"Cool." Louis looks around, never having had a tour of the apartment before starting to cook.

Harry draws back the shower glass and reveals three taps. Hot. Cold. But there's one more.

"Milk?" Louis teases and Harry doesn't understand this boy, but he desperately wants to.

Finally releasing Louis' hand after draining the final dose of comforting familiarity from the touch, Harry stepped into the wide shower section. Louis looked on with many a question lingering in his fast-paced state of mind. He chews the inside of his cheek, incidentally biting off the worn out squamous tissue.

The tap that sat hooked between the hot and cold knobs was special, tinted navy and only needed to be pulled out to function. Harry did that now with unafraid hands, but cautious fingers. The bigger part of him was a little worried, but the aggressive portion that took and claimed what it wanted at all costs set him at ease.

There was no steam when the shower gage began to release liquid. Red liquid. Louis' jaw ran agape and he involuntarily stepped toward the healthy spray out of pure curiosity. Curiosity killed the cat.
He stood staring at how the blood fell from the metal head to Harry's hair, before dripping down his body and getting washed down the drain. The glint in his eye was dark fascination, taken totally by this dicey invention.

"Blood." He seemed to mouth the word with a surprised breath.

Harry shut off the tap and stared back at Louis with contempt and interest. He was matted in blood, his hair felt caked to his skull but that didn't bother him. It was familiar, always able to soothe the raw nerve ends that drove him off a bridge. Something he's actually done in an old Ford Capri, but survived when a nosey passerby saved him. Harry thinks this is why that stranger gave him a chance he didn't deserve.

Louis had his upper lip between his molars, biting in thought. The corner was sore now from being split open by rough prodding. The rest of him was calm, no twitching or forms of anxiety. That seemed to soften the blow to a bothered mind of Harry neither knew was there.

Harry closes his eyes when he tells Louis the whole truth, giving Louis the chance to leave him without reluctance. He knows he'll just run after him and keep him by force but it's the sentiment that counts at this moment in time. Harry's never given up something he wanted before so it's blatant that he won't bloody start now.

"I kill people, Louis." He starts, his eyelids have dried to sandpaper but Harry feels nothing.

Louis' eyes dart from the shower to him, boring into his soul and putting Harry on edge. Nobody's done that before and it provides him with a loud burst of energy.
Energy to step out of the non-slip tiled floor and cover the distance to Louis, that's oddly decreased. He stands there for a short empty while, waiting for something to hit him in the face or heart.