*LOUIS' POV*
Getting Phoebe to actually fall asleep was a task not fit for a guy as torn and inwardly degraded as I am. My fingers tried not to shake everytime I reminded myself that I no longer had my father to run to; that my six-year-old sister relied absolutely upon me alone.
Harry had fallen asleep on the couch, hair tossled and in sixteen different directions on the armrest. I hunted for food in the kitchen but came up dry except for leftover take-out and two bottles of water. My head spun and I held onto the counter for support.
I take an Aspirin from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and catch the time to be 00h56. I have to work tomorrow. Well, today. Sunday I'm free and maybe I could take Phoebe somewhere.
I have no close relatives who will take her. I don't trust anyone with her except I have no choice. I can't have her here with me, so prone and close to danger.
"Louis?" Harry croaks from the couch.
"Yeah." I sigh. "It's me."
He pulls himself up and looks at me over the back of the contraption. I want to smother and hug him at the same time. Damn him for confusing the fuck out of my pathetic life.
"Come here."
I relent. I'm tired but unable to sleep so my best bet is to sit down and communicate with this arse. I sit down on the couch, too far away to be near a close proximity so we're not touching and cross my legs facing him.
"How long did she take to fall asleep?" Harry asks casually. Fucking casually.
"About half an hour. She's pretty spooked from being locked in a fucking closet with a sociopath."
"Rupert?" Harry coughs dryly into his enclosed fist. "He's harmless."
"Not to her. He's a monster in her eyes."
"I know you won't let anything happen to her."
I nod and rest my head on my knees. "She can't stay here though."
Harry cocks his head to one side and the rustling of the blowing trees outside give his skin an interesting glow. Almost frightening.
"Why not?" He asks.
"It's not safe, Harry." I yawn. "I'm not around often enough to take care of her."
"What will you do?"
"I'll have to figure something out for the time-being. I have to work tomorrow but Sunday is free."
"I can......take care of her while you're at work tomorrow."
"Absolutely not. I'm not leaving my sister here alone with you." My tiredness shows in my quick and cutting remarks.
"Please? I have a sister."
"Had." I want to impale myself immediately after I said that.
All the hope of winning this debate drains from his face and he drops to an expressionless notion. He's offence taken to my response is apparent in his visage compiled of a knitted frown and drained eyes.
"I'm sorry. I didn't...." I sigh. "I didn't mean to be so cruel, Harry." I gush in apology.
He avoids my gaze that's trying to poke at his nerves and uncover whether he's upset or not.
"Can you please look after her tomorrow?" I ask softly.
He nods slowly, still not totally forgiving or forgetting my harshness. I lightly poke the indent in his cheek where I knew his dimple would arise if he spent enough time smiling instead of dispensing black frowns.
"I'm sorry." I make him look at me.
"It's fine, Lou." He gives me a small smile. "You would have liked her."
"What was your name?" I grope at the details of his childhood.
"Gemma. She was two years older than me."
I don't offer thoughts or questions, unfolding my legs and leaning closer to him.
"She used to mess the kitchen a lot and make me clean up so she wouldn't tell Mother a secret of mine."
"Were they bad secrets?" I ask, unable to help myself.
He doesn't falter in mood. "No but at the time they seemed so. We'd play in the garden, our favourite game. Hide and seek. I'd always seek and one day I broke the birdhouse looking for her. Mother built that from scratch."
I suppress a laugh. "Did she find out?"
"She did." He swallows and even in the night I watch his face pale.
"What happened?" I press.
"Nothing. It doesn't matter now. You should get some rest-"
"Louis?" A soft, fragile voice calls and I look up to see Phoebe standing quietly by the passage. "Can I sleep out here with you?"
She only briefly looks at Harry who keeps a straight face. I look at him for reasonable help but he doesn't throw any out there.
"I wasn't going to-" I start.
"I can't sleep in there, Louis." She moves around the couch to perch herself on my lap. "Please can I?"
"Okay." I kiss her temple. "If it'll help you sleep any."
She nestles close to me under my chin and looks at Harry who smiles courteously.
"Hi." She says in that angelic voice. "I'm Phoebe."
Harry grins at her. "I'm Harry."
"Are you Louis' friend?"
Harry's gaze flickers to me. "I think so."
"Is he your friend?" Phoebe turns to me almost goading me on, daring me to say no.
Phoebe was always the friendliest in her class. Often enough she would get into plenty of trouble because of bringing home injured birds and helpless kittens. Our home was a full-on petting zoo for a month.
"He is." I answer and she smiles in satisfaction with my answer.
"Are you afraid too?" She asks Harry.
"Of what, love?" He replies.
"Of the dark."
He chuckles. "The dark is afraid of me."
She laughs and I'm glad that PTSD hasn't struck home yet. "Can we be friends too?"
"Of course we can."
I roll my eyes trying to swallow my gut. "Tomorrow I have to work so Harry will be here with you, yeah?"
"Okay." All her teeth show in her grin, with the exception of the one that had fallen out.
"We should sleep now. I'm exhausted."
Forming a reasonable sleeping formation is more of a task, especially since the couch is so damn tiny. Looks like Sunday is going to be a shopping day. Ugh.
Phoebe settles in close to me with her head on my arm. Harry volunteers to sleep in the bedroom.
"You sure?" I ask drowsily.
"The dark is afraid of me, remember?"
*NARRATOR'S POV*
Harry risks an elongated glance at the attic door. A haunted and highly attractive piece of wood that conceals something. It stretches and Harry frowns, faint creaking sounds can be heard and he presses his temple with his fingers to stop the throbbing.
Mother hasn't found him yet. She doesn't know he's with Louis living in a town so far away from home. She'd be upset if she finds out.
Harry drags his attention back to the door that tortured his curiosity. He approached it and tapped his knuckles meaninglessly against the surface. No sound of response.
*LOUIS' POV*
Phoebe settles into a serene state of peaceful slumber on my arm. I drape the quilt I'd carried from home with me over her and she is lost to the world in seconds.
In the morning, the mood of our trio has anything but been uplifted. Phoebe has no clothes but dear Harry has opted to get her some while I was at work.
"I didn't really want you two going out." I say softly to Harry, Phoebe is wrestling with the shirt she's being forced to wear temporarily.
"She'll be fine, Louis. We'll even come see you in the middle of the day." Harry offers and I groan.
It was sickening how simple this idiot thought things were. Phoebe would ask for her Dad soon and what will I say? What will happen when I can longer show face and lie? When the authorities come looking for Harry? When they take him back and the whole horrid routine is put back into play?
"Just......don't draw attention to yourself." I say as a firm warning.
He nods and I turn to hug Phoebe who seems to have mastered tucking her duck tail into her shorts.
"Bye, love." I bid as I walk out the door.
*NARRATOR'S POV*
Rupert still didn't know the boy's name, but he walked from Middleston County to Dynasville to find out. From his hiding place across the street he watches the boy climb into the SUV he remembers was used to drive away from him yesterday. Where is he going? Rupert pondered silently until the SUV kicked into traffic and headed down the street. He followed.
*LOUIS' POV*
Work is maximum torture on overdrive. Seth and Roger corner me the moment I step into the store.
"I was worried I'd lost you last night, kiddo." Roger pats my back.
"I was fine."
"Who'd you leave with?"
"A friend." I respond curtly, getting behind the counter.
"Oh no. You're on stock-taking duty today."
"Why?"
"Because you had your turn behind the counter. It's easy, trust me. The new stuff's just come in so put them on the correct shelves."
"Fine. Storage room?"
"Yup."
One box at a damn time I unpack and restock the shelves. I get splinters from three types of wooden planks and jabbed by both a star screwdriver and a Stanley knife.
The sandpaper makes my fingers calloused and dry, the wall paint fills my nostrils and burns my eyes. I won't even begin my rant on paraffin and thinners.
The front entrance opens multiple times but no customer comes deep enough into the belly of this DIY beast to require my help.
I drop a pack of construction-type thumb-tacks and hastily drop to my knees to pick up the scattered piece of sharp metal. The heads are various colours and easily enough distinguishable from the grey tiling of this warehouse.
Another set of hands starts assisting me in my peril. I look up after all are gathered to thank my helper but my breath catches in my trachea and I shuffle to my feet.
"Hi." The man with an aged face and torn green sweater smiles. My heart gallops and veins create cross walls that impede my flow of blood. I hear my blood pumping like drums. "I'm Rupert."
He was in the house. My home. With Phoebe in the closet. She was so afraid of him. I step back and his smile fades.
"No. No. I just want to be your friend." He reaches out and I almost cringe reflexively. "Like Harry and you are."
"I don't know who you are." I answer.
"But you can." And his face lights up again. "We can be better friends than you and Harry are."
I doubt it but I don't say that to him. From the corner of my eye I see that the distance between this spot and bright daylight in public isn't an impossible distance. I bet I can clock it before he tries something.
"What's your name?" He asks stepping forward.
My subconscious shouts at me to shut up and so I do.
He laughs. "Come on. I've told you mine."
"What do you want?"
"To be your friend. Harry said you were his but I'm pretty sure you don't appreciate him putting a claim on you like he did."
He said what? I'm not fucking his. I don't belong to anyone.
The door jingles from the bell and I turn to see Harry walk in with Phoebe. Relief floods over me, partly because they're here with my sister safe and partly because Harry's here. I look back but Rupert's gone with no trace evidence.
I jog over to the part of the store cocooned by daylight, and put on a smile for Phoebe. She is wearing the same clothes I left her in but Harry's carrying a few bags of what I suspect would be my money spent on new items of clothing.
"Hey, Phoebe." I pick her up and put her on the counter. "What did you do today?"
"We went looking for new clothes. Harry told me a secret." She says, swinging her legs back and forth.
"Oh yeah?" I glance side wards at the smirking idiot.
"Can't tell you though."
"Why not?"
"It's a secret, Lou." Harry says, thoroughly amused.
"Louis!" Seth calls across the store floor. "Louis, why are the thumb-tacks all over the floor?"
"What do you mean? I just picked them up." I answer him a little angrily.
"That's not what's on Isle Twelve." He closes the distance. "And who's this?"
"My sister. Seth, this is Phoebe and Harry." I introduce the two visitors. "This is Seth-"
"His boss."
"He wishes."
Seth laughs and Phoebe giggles when I lightly rest my chin on her weak shoulder. Harry is tense and seething discomfort. Seth excuses himself and I draw back to look at them.
"I have to work for a few more hours. Take the car." I say handing Harry the SUV keys. "I don't want you guys walking."
Harry's brows knit together in a studious fashion as he bites his lip. "Something wrong?"
"Nope." I rock back on my heels. "Pick me up at five though."
"We will!" Phoebe cheers as she hops down from the counter.
Harry gives me a long, estranged look before taking her out to the SUV. I watch until they're safely inside and driven off before going back to work. The clock says it's 12h14. I sigh.
In a fine act of avoiding the back region of the warehouse under every and any circumstance, I spend the rest of my working shift at the front and by the counter. I skip lunch considering I had none and distract my reeling mind with something to do, an example would be my glorified attempt at making the perfect knot.
Every so often I'd hear the wind blow, the door slam shut after a customer leaves unhappily, or the chatter of fellow colleagues who have an innumerable amount of stories to share.
"Louis!" Seth calls to me a I gather my jacket and phone from under the cash register.
"Yeah?"
"You're on lock-up!" Roger tosses a set of keys at me. "Make sure all the lights are off and the back doors are shut. Goodnight!"
I let the keys fall to the ground as I stare at their retreating nonchalant figures. Fuck.
"Will you tell me your name now?"
*HARRY'S POV*
"And who's this pretty girl?" Martha stops us with a greeting from the dividing counter top that she was wiping.
"I'm Phoebe." Louis' sister answers on her own jurisdiction and I leave her be.
"Lovely to meet you, Phoebe." Martha produces a lollipop from God knows where and hands it to a gleeful Phoebe.
"Thank you, ma'am."
"Call me Marty."
"Kay, Marty."
"Where's Louis?" Martha directs her attention to me.
"Working." I answer.
"Oh yeah. I didn't catch your name."
"Harry."
"Harry, I forgot to give Louis something but could you do it for me?"
"Sure."
She hands me a key ring with just two brass keys in the loop. "It's the keys to the attic. Tell him I found them when he came looking for clothes."
I stare at the newly acquired bunch in my hand, intrigued by their purpose. The attic door has been a mystery to me since yesterday, maybe now I could try seeing what it withholds.
"My niece is coming in from Atlanta so I have to go get her." Martha wipes her hands on her apron.
I nod, not really absorbing what she's saying.
"Would you like to come, Phoebe?" Martha puts her hands on her knees when she speaks to the small girl.
Phoebe nods avidly before turning to me. "Can I, Harry?"
It stunned and quite baffled me that Phoebe knew me for less than a day, but was already equipped to take my permission beside her brother's to do something.
"Yes you can." I smile. "Be safe, okay?"
"Okay!" She waves to me with her other hand locked with Martha's as they walk out.

Notes

A/N: BEFORE YOU SCROLL PAST THIS - There was a question posed a while back about Louis, I apologise to the asker for not answering sooner. The question is about Louis' sexuality and whether or not he was heterosexual before he met Harry. He was heterosexual beforehand :) and now he isn't. And now, without further a due, Chapter 16. Pssst.

A/N: I think that I can die peacefully now, knowing so many of you actually enjoy H&S :') Though the previous chapter's question still stands: How many of you guys are fans?? O.o Do tell.