The Artist

12.

Harry pulled Louis out of the house by his wrist and dragged him down the sidewalk. He opened the backdoor of his car and pushed Louis inside. Louis hesitated to move, but soon rushed to pound on the windows.

"Let me go, Harold! Now!" Harry shook his head and laughed as he climbed into the drivers' seat. He stuck the key into the ignition and took off down the street towards the hotel.

Knowing that he was able to move freely in the back, Louis lunged to the front seat and grabbed onto the wheel. Harry swerved and spun the car around and around.

As the car spun out of control, Louis scrambled to find a way out. Harry slammed on the brakes and the car brushed up against bushes on the side of the road. "God damnit, Louis! What the fuck is your problem?" He turned his body to where he could see Louis knocked out in the backseat.

"Oh, shit." Harry started the car again and went straight for the hotel. He had never wanted to hurt Louis. Not intentionally or even physically. But there he was in the back with a cut above his eyebrow with blood trickling down the side of his face.

When he pulled into his reserved parking spot at the hotel, he went to the back of the car to retrieve Louis' weak body. Harry wrapped him in a large coat and covered his face so no one would see that he had been hurt. Louis stirred in his arms, but never fully woke up.

All bundled up, Louis was carried through the revolving doors of the hotel and into the elevator leading to Harry's room. No one had really been around to see him carrying a limp body back to his room, and for that he was somewhat thankful. He didn't want people to start questioning him if they saw him.

Harry pulled out his room key and slid it through the panel outside his door. The room inside was cool and bright. Everything was as he left it the few days before. The bed on Louis' side was made up and his side had been thrashed from worrying why Louis had disappeared. He rushed over to the half made bed and placed Louis on the soft comforter.

"Baby, please wake up." He brushed his hand over the gash on Louis' forhead. The blood had dried up for the most part, but the wound was still open enough to where blood could continue to seep. Harry went to the bathroom and soaked a hot rag then placed it ovevr the cut. Louis shifted on the bed, almost causing the rag to fall off.

He opened his eyes when he felt the water leak down to his chin. "Harry, what the hell are you doing?" Louis sat up against the headboard away from Harry, who was barely sitting at the foot of the mattress.

"I was just trying to help." He reached to adjust the rag as it slowly slipped. Louis smacked his hand away, and Harry retreated with saddness in his eyes. Even though he realised he'd hurt Louis time and time again, he genuinely was trying to fix him.

"Go away from me. I don't want you anywhere near me."

"Louis, please don't-"

"No!" he screamed hopefull that security would be sent up for disturbance. "You're a psychopath! You tried to kidnap me and now I don't even know what you've done to me since I blacked out!" In all honesty, Harry hadn't done anything to him but try and tend to him after the car incident.

He gave up trying to get through to Louis. There was no way he'd convince him otherwise. "I'll let you be alone then." Harry rose from the bed and went to stand outside in the hallway. Louis prayed that he'd go further away and perhaps go to the bar. He hadn't noticed it before, but he still had his phone in his pocket.

Louis turned on the screen and opened up the keypad to dial a number.

"This is the city police department, what is your emergency?"