back for you ➳ l.s.

thirty three - if i could fly

"Harry? Harry, are you there?" Louis cursed loudly, and hurled his phone across the room.

"Jesus, Louis, what's going on? Is something wrong?" Liam asked, walking into the dressing room for the first time that night. Apparently he hadn't picked the best moment to do it.

Immediately realizing the irrationality of his actions, Louis hurried across the room and retrieved the device. He inspected it briefly, and it still seemed functional. Functional enough, at least. And he had plenty of charge, so he put the pieces together, figuring that his boyfriend's phone must have died.

Harry always forgot to charge his phone. Louis made a mental note to buy him at least five more phone chargers so that he would constantly happen upon a charger and actually remember to plug in his phone once in a while.

"Harry's phone died," Louis explained dismissively, as if that reason was plenty to justify his outburst. His fingers flew across the newly-cracked screen, punching in Niall's number.

Liam frowned, furrowing his brow in confusion. "You threw your phone at a wall because Harry's phone died?"

Louis held a hand up to silence his friend, signalling for him to wait. He tapped his foot impatiently as the phone rang, the heat of Liam's worried gaze burning against his skin.

Niall had stopped the car in front of the grocery store and hopped out immediately, not bothering to worry about his completely crooked parking job. He glanced around the front of the store, then the coffee shop, but couldn't see Harry anywhere.

His phone buzzed loudly in his pocket. When he saw Louis's name flashing on the screen, he answered instantly. "Hey, Lou."

"Did you find him?" Louis demanded, his voice frantic and inching toward desperation.

"Not yet," Niall admitted. He took another few steps toward the grocery, then peered down the alleyway that led to the back of the store. "I don't think he's here, at least not anymore. Maybe he walked back to the apartment?"

Louis shook his head, although Niall couldn't see. "No, he wouldn't. I told him to stay put. He wouldn't have moved without good reason. Look harder."

"I don't know, Lou. I don't think --" Then Niall froze. In the darkness of the alleyway, he could barely make out a curled-up figure, shadows veiling his body from the light of the main street.

Even as he prayed it was someone else, he knew in his heart that it was Harry.

"Harry?" he called down the alley, his voice bouncing ominously off of the brick walls.

The person raised his head slowly in response, and even through the thick darkness, Niall would know those green eyes anywhere.

"Oh my god, Haz." Niall rushed to his friend's side, dropping the phone on the ground beside him as he crouched down beside Harry. "Oh my god, mate, what happened?"

Even through the dark shadows of the alley, he could see that Harry's pale face was littered with fresh scrapes and the beginnings of bruises. His black jeans were ripped down the side, exposing a small strip of the milky white of his hip and upper thigh. His shirt was still intact, but showed obvious signs of rough treatment, the neck stretched out so that part of his chest was visible.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but ended up coughing violently instead.

"Niall? Are you there? What's going on?" Louis's distant voice came through the phone.

"Louis?" Harry croaked out, and Niall hurried to grab the phone and put the call on speaker.

"Harry? Is that you, baby?"