Undone, Undress (Larry Stylinson)

forty-seven

They actually do end up stopping at the hotel, if only to grab their things. Louis jams his belongings angrily in his bag as Harry cries and cries and cries, packing his suitcase much neater than Louis.

"If he touches you again we're coming right back here," Louis warns again grumpily, not messing around.

Harry nods and sniffles, wiping at his nose with his hand. "I'm sorry," he whispers.

"It's not your fault," Louis sighs, wanting to reach out and comfort Harry with physical touch but he knows it's not a good idea. He knows Harry won't respond well to that right now when he's wound so tightly like this, looking like he's a few seconds from running away.

Louis' face has stopped bleeding by now but he's sporting an ugly bruise on his jaw. It blossoms like a gross, dark flower, all black and blue and purple. A painful reminder of just who they're going to be sharing a house with tonight.

"Your dad is an asshole."

"I know."

They drive the rest of the way in silence.

Harry's parents' house, as it turns out, is very nice. Louis isn't surprised. It's large, in a gated community at the end of a cul de sac. There are tall, healthy pine trees lining the posterior of the property and beyond that there's nothing but empty land.

They ring the doorbell. Harry doesn't live here anymore and neither of them are comfortable just walking through the door. His mom answers it and lets them inside, but she seems reluctant and very unwelcoming.

Louis doesn't care. He's too pissed off to feel uncomfortable and unwanted. She shows them the rooms in which they'll be sleeping and Louis sets his bag down in the room he's assigned while Harry does the same. They meet each other in the hallway, unsure of what to do.

"Are you alright?"

"I hate it here," Harry whispers. He steps forward and unexpectedly wraps Louis in a hug, squeezing him tight. He rests his chin on the top of Louis' head and sighs again, this time the sound much more relaxed, as if he feels comfortable like this. It makes something warm blossom in Louis' chest, to think that maybe Harry finds comfort in him enough to want to be near him when everything else is going to shit.

He isn't ignorant enough to know how important this is, that Harry is hugging him first and asking for what he wants and not being afraid to do that with Louis. Part of childhood trauma is having parents who make you fearful of even asking for a necessity, so Louis knows how big it is for Harry to be asking for physical affection and comfort like this. It means he trusts Louis' not to use it against him to hurt him and that means the world to Louis.

So he sets his arms around Harry's waist and rubs his lower back. Harry holds him tighter and rocks them back and forth, shifting their weight from side to side. They pull away after a long while and Harry is slightly smiling at him, his expression soft.

It feels momentous. The fact that Harry can feel safe enough to smile in a place like this, a home that must be riddled with traumatic memories, makes Louis want to kiss him hard from the freeing amount of pride he feels at the fact that yeah, maybe Harry is deeply traumatized, but he's getting better in a way, and he's growing from it. Any victory, no matter how small, is still a victory.

They still have a lot of uncomfortable shit to do, like go downstairs to face the monsters of Harry's past. It sounds a lot more dramatic that way, but Louis feels like they can afford themselves some melodrama. Harry has been through a lot, if the physical and mental scars he bears are anything to go by.

So Louis sure as hell doesn't want to go downstairs, and Harry sure as hell doesn't want to either, but they both know they have to. Louis holds out his hand and motions for the stairs. Harry interlaces their fingers.

"Shall we?"