Book over credit: @Larry_smilinson
Louis is mute , everyone around him knows the small teen can talk he just simply refuses , during the day he helps his father clean old studio apartments and by night he's painting mythical beings in his small atti...
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With Louis , some days were better than others , a few of those days where his muted screams became a broken painting , discarded old pictures of his child hood where once he was vibrant; living and angelic.
It was those days , those few fucking days that made all the good ones disappear in the cloudy apartment as Blaine stood silently his frame up against his sons chipping room door ... knowing all to well that if he spoke , if even whispered a word "okay" it would be too loud for Louis , to defining .
Louis gulped , hands pressed to either side of his painting he had finished a few days ago . It was his mother , her lips a pale pink with little dark spots of brown ;eyes green and baring - a flowing white dress covered her only leaving small amount of skin where her bust almost starts .
A master piece . A work of art , Blaine wanted her to stay that way , framed and untouched - it's something he has always wanted from the beginning.
He can only wince when Louis starts stabbing the picture with his sharp paint brush , he starts at her chest and works up to her face that's the hard part for Blaine , the part where he feels entirely too weak and grips the door .
She's torn , a worst death then the one god gave her and Louis eyes burn as he lets out a silent yell . People talk below , couples laugh at some childish joke and there's a group of men standing by the pub with cigarettes in their hands and a pint .
The will go home to their spouses and children, none of them acknowledging how much life is different for others .
Blaine trudges over , snatches the brush from Louis and quickly trashed the room looking for a piece of paper and ink . He can hear the cries of weak helpless from his son , the cries that want so desperately to come out and make themselves known in this god awful world .
They want to say "hey what are you doing this is my room !!!, I'm hurt ,I'm sooo fucking hurt please leave my room as it is !!!"
Why ?! . Blaine slams the paper with the word in front of Louis ,grabbing the small teen by his neck and forcing him to read the word - Louis whimpers trying his best to free himself .
Hurt .
You are hurt , then write to me -
Blaine waves around the now trashed room , his hair falling in front of his face and his tie hanging off unprofessionally.
Sorry .
I know , god I know .
Louis holds the ink in his hand and thinks of an reply , but he's not only wordless to the world , he is wordless to the paper and with that he drops the ink on the floor and begins stripping out of his clothes .
Blaine is used to this , used to the few bad days that make the good days disappear. It's these moments where he wishes he was in his wife place or at least with her , it's an horrible thought to habour. To simply leave his son , to leave someone he calls a burden on the bad days .
Louis opens his mouth , closes it , moves his hand , places it down and all Blaine can do is shake his head .
"Not tonight Lou , I cannot read to you tonight "
Louis Tomlinson a bright boy , who lost his voice after his mother passing , who has deemed the world too loud stares at his father in that cramped apartment with the window curtains wide open . He's bare , only a pair of boxers and there's a mess in his room ... he makes a run for it . Discarding his father's scream of his name and just keeps running until his feet lead him out of the front door , out the apartment building and out in the rain .
