Silenced- A Larry Stylinson Story

Chapter 20- POV Louis: Unmatchable Joy

I throw my hands up to my head and grasp my caramel hair, pulling it in anger. I let my head fall forward onto the steering wheel and it accidentally hits the horn and lets out a blaring noise, making me jump. Even though no one is here, my face blushes red in embarrassment and I slink down in the driver's seat. Putting the truck into reverse, I turn my head left and begin to back out.

As I rotate my head back forward to look at the long newly-paved road in front of me, I notice Harry's guitar resting on the seat. Ugh. He forgot it. I put the truck in drive and pull back into his driveway.

I knock twice, then facepalm as I notice the shiny silver doorbell conveniently placed to the right of the door.

I couldn't be more stupid.

The door is gently pushed open from the inside and a familiar face pops out. "Louis?" He whispers sharply. "What are you doing here?" His cheeks, which are painted bright red, stand out from his ghostly complexion. His hands are clutching the door so tightly that his knuckles are white, and he is just peeking out enough for me to see him, but nothing in his house behind him.

"You forgot your guitar." I reply matter-of-factly, and hold it out for him to take. He doesn't take it.

"Louis, you can't be here right now, my parents are-"

He is cut off by the booming voice of what I assume is his Dad from inside. "Who is it, Harry?" Harry's eyebrows rise and his eyes widen in fear. I can see his grasp on the door tighten in an attempt to cease the trembling of his- surprisingly large- hands. "Harry?"

The voice gets closer, and before I have a chance to run the door is swung open from behind Harry, causing his hands to release from his death grip and his body to catapult into me and land on my chest in the grass. His beloved guitar goes flying over the front lawn and into the paved driveway, and I can see Harry cringe as he hears the hollow wooden body thud inside the case and a string break with a very unsatisfying "ping!"

At any other time, I would enjoy the contact and giggle, but this is different. Harry scrambles off of my chest and, in the blink of an eye, we are both standing like statues in front of his Dad, whose eyebrows are furrowed in confusion.

"Who the hell are you?" He demands, breaking the awkward silence that fills the air and makes it hard to breathe.

"Louis." I squeak, and Harry elbows me in the ribs. I glare at him in perplexity. He glances down towards his hands, which are fidgeting vigorously. Maintaining my gaze on his father, I reach over and grasp one of his hands, pulling it behind my back and holding it so his father doesn't notice. He pulls away and continues fidgeting his fingers. My face twists back into its perplexed stare.

"Whoa whoa whoa," Mr. Styles slowly brings his hand up so his finger is hovering only two inches from my nose. He then grits his teeth and continues, clearly talking to Harry but still staring intimidatingly at me. "Is this the Louis you said... you said you were in love with?" His mouth twists into a hollow grimace.

I am unable to tear my eyes from Mr. Styles' dark stare. I feel like if I do, he will become even more angry with me, though the logic in that makes no sense. Judging by his expression, which is a combination of betrayal, astonishment, and pure resentment, Harry has nodded in response to his question.

His finger lowers and he sternly asks, "How long has this been going on?"

Glancing at Harry, I notice his face is even paler than before. His trembling hands are clenching and unclenching, and a bead of sweat dribbles down his temple. He doesn't look good. I decide to answer the question for him.