The Pure Omega (L.S.)

The Hanging

"Walk with me," Harry raised his hand up for Louis to take, his body still halfway through the entrance of Louis' tipi.

Louis was timid to reach out, but Harry's pleading eyes had gotten the absolute best of him. He reached his smaller hand forward and slipped it across the Alphas, their hands fitting perfectly together as if they were two perfect puzzle pieces. Harry's hand, of course, was much larger than Louis' own. His whole hand was easily encasing the Omegas.

Harry smirked slightly at Louis when their gazes connected, causing a deep dimple to carve into the side of his cheek as he ushered the Omega gently outside. Louis had to admit, the man was incredibly charming yet intimidating at the same time.

When Louis found himself outside completely, the warmth and abnormal softness of Harry's hands fall away from his own, making him pout to the other who stood oblivious. However, Louis sucked it up and mentally slapped his inner Omega.

"So, where's the hanging happening at?" Louis lifted an eyebrow in wonder as he followed in the long strides of his company. "Also slow down, you have longer legs than I do."

Harry slowed to allow Louis to come up next to him, a small chuckle exploding from deep within his chest.

"You have to walk faster, Lou."

"No, you have to walk slower."

"Do I now?"

Louis playfully elbowed Harry as they walked side by side. He couldn't help the small smile that spread across his face, but it faded instantly.

"You know, this is supposed to be a serious moment. We shouldn't be joking around just as we're about to watch the hanging of someone," a heavy feeling began stirring within the depths of Louis' chest. He couldn't pinpoint if it was empathy or sorrow. He just knew it was something.

Louis was caught off guard as soon as Harry's arm was thrown around his shoulders. The alpha pulled him in close and let out a sarcastic chuckle, sending Louis' omega into overdrive.

"He's a Werewolf. We're Hell Hounds. It's more natural for us to laugh in the face of the enemies death, not mourn for them, my dear," Harry did have a point, at least for his side of the story.

But for Louis' side, he didn't because he wasn't a Hell Hound.

But were the Werewolves his enemy as well? In a way yeah, they were. He was an outcast to them, but he was still apart of their kind no matter how much he hated that fact. There was no escaping it, at least in a safe way that didn't involve having to take pills and living every day in fear that your deepest, darkest secret would be made public.

Louis slightly slumped his weight into Harry instinctively. His scent coated him like extraordinary perfume and their proximity sent sparks along his body as if lightening had struck him down and cursed him. He liked being close to Harry. It satisfied his inner Omega.

"I guess you're right. I'm too sensitive," Louis rubbed at his forehead as if he was trying to erase the thoughts from his mind, but he dropped his hand once it started giving him a headache.

"There's no such thing as too sensitive," Harry pointed out as dropped his arm back to his side. "You just empathize better with others is all. Nothin' wrong with that."

Louis cocked his head to one side as he turned to look at him. "That's what you think?"

"It's what I know."

"So you don't see it as a sign of weakness? To feel bad for the..." Louis paused to search for the word, "To feel bad for the foe?"

Harry shook his head and pressed his lips together into a thin line. "Not necessarily, no. To show emotion is being human, and being human is a blessing in itself. You're gifted with life and the ability to feel, and if you're sad at the current situation, then that's just you being human."