Amaryllis

30

"We need to clean up," Liam announces once they've left the ticket window, with the cashier's eyes still in their backs. Harry rolls up what's left of the wad of notes he'd found in the pocket of his trousers, and thinks they maybe should've used the machines.

Once they find the closest bathroom, it's blessedly empty, tiled and shiny and smelling overwhelmingly of citrus cleaning product.

Next to Harry, Louis takes a shaky breath. Harry realises this might actually be the first time he'd heard him breathe since they left the shadow of the forest and stepped into the midday sun.

"Okay?" he asks quietly. It doesn't really make sense for him to be quiet, seeing as all four of them can hear things far beyond the walls of this room, but. There's something intimate about it, something that Harry thinks Louis needs right now.

Louis's eyes are far away when he looks up. "Fine, Pup. Don't worry." Which, naturally, only serves to worry Harry more.

Liam and Zayn move aside to let them to the basins first. Harry checks over his hands and forearms, splashes cool water over his sweaty, dirty forehead. He's in pretty good shape, considering, probably alright to be out in public without alarming people. Next to him, Louis is staring at the stream of water shooting from the tap, his bloody hand hidden in his pocket.

Harry bites his lip. Stops the water in his basin. Breathes in, out. "Need any help?" he asks, and he's not sure why he's bothering to feign casual.

Louis closes his eyes, tight enough that the crinkles come out. He's shaking, but his voice is clear when he speaks, just for Harry, "Please."

So Harry helps. He takes one arm, then the other, rolling Louis's sleeves up to his elbows. His skin looks pale and washed out in the blue bathroom light, littered with bright red cuts and scrapes. They seem to be healing torturously slow.

He runs the water again, checking the temperature, and takes Louis's left hand first. The blood on it is dry and dark brown now, broken into thousands of small segments along the wrinkles of Louis's palms. It reaches almost halfway up his forearm, sits dark and packed underneath his fingernails. Harry is reminded of when it was fresh, bright red where it shot out from underneath Louis's claws. It makes his mind a little cloudy, but he knows they're safe now. It's over.

Louis hisses when the water makes contact with his skin. Harry works as quickly as he can, gentle over Louis's knuckles and the soft skin of his palm. The evidence disappears down the drain in seconds. Foolishly, Harry hopes it'll help.

He washes the cuts on Louis's forearms then, running his fingers in circles, then moves on to the other arm. He tries to both clean Louis's skin and get his muscles loosened up, hoping to relieve some of Louis's tension.

Finally, he wets a paper towel and tilts Louis's face up by the chin. Louis goes willingly, but he closes his eyes, effectively shutting Harry out. Harry sighs, lets go of Louis's chin to run a finger across his brows instead, and down the slope of his nose the way that always makes him giggle.

It works, and Harry's gaze meets Louis's like tidal waves crashing. He sees the turmoil in them, sees the faint red ring around the edge of his irises, and he can only think of one thing to say, the one thing that won't be a lie.

"I love you," he whispers, and kisses Louis on the forehead. It smooths out underneath his lips as Louis lets out a small breath, and over his shoulder, Zayn drops his gaze to the ground and leans back against the door. There's a small smile playing around the edges of his mouth.

Harry finishes up quickly, rubs a fleck of dirt off Louis's cheek and pulls him away, gentle. Louis curls into him now, pliant and softer than before. They watch Liam make faces at them in the mirror and Zayn flicking water at him, and Harry hides his shaky grin in Louis's hair.