Hide & Seek (Larry Stylinson AU)

I love how your demons dance with my own. *NARRATOR POV* Sweaty and hard and demanding and perfect. That's what Harry looked like above Louis, sweat dripping down his chest and all. The repetitive motion of his hips between Louis' thighs - crafted for football and other strenuous sporting deeds - was hypnotising. Emotions such as bliss and pleasure and lust, all rolled into one firework that was at its brink within Louis' self control. Little sparks of his extreme enjoyment escape between moans and grunts. Louis lost it when Harry started to move faster, his blunt but shaped nails scraping along Harry's back. He enjoyed the feeling of Harry's skin reddening and rising to his touch in goosebumps despite the chill. "Har-" Louis starts but the boy he was calling smashes their lips together, his thrusts taking on a sporadic nature and becoming sloppy. Louis feels that pit within his depths, a deep pool that only Harry's touched - literally - and he sobs in a choked off manner as it nears. Suddenly, it's gone. And he's sitting up in bed with a painful throb between his legs, tenting his sweatpants. He wipes away a layer of sweat from beneath his fringe, making the tuft of feathery hair stand up slick and damp. He reaches for the glass of water that was always kept next to him. Something cold wraps around his wrist, demanding his attention to be drawn out to his outstretched arm. The flesh is blue and black, flakes of decaying skin dotting the surface. The fingers are long and bendable at regions it shouldn't be. He gets pulled off the bed, fear choking his screams as he's plumetting into blackness that shouldn't be present in a hole in his floor. He chokes and gasps and hurriedly wipes the salty tears from his cheeks away. His palms are stinging like a dozen needles and his eyes are fighting with nothing to adjust. He squints to see nothing. Sliding backwards in this abyss, where the only thing he's certain off is that he's on a cold floor, his back hits a wall and he decides to never move. "It's a nightmare." He tells himself. "Wake up." He starts rocking with his knees to his chest like a child. "Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up." He even pinches his wrist above his vein until it hurts. It hurts but he doesn't wake up. More tears run down his face until they can be tasted on his lips, the once plump and pink swollen lips becoming raw from too much saliva and salt. They try too quickly and strain painfully when he moves his mouth anyhow. "Come on. Wake up!" He shouts into the darkness and finally, a light comes on. He recognises the room. The Lost Lake house. He's back there. "Oh fuck." He scrambles back, only hurting himself against the wall behind him. His bottom lip trembles in cursed fear, sending tiny jolts of pain through him due to the cut that was most definitely there. That's not all. His head tilts to the right as he tries to focus. People's voices. He doesn't dare move for who knows how deceptive this will be. It's just a nightmare. He sucks in a deep breath and holds it, praying it will stop him from crying hysterically. In here he had no control of his emotions or actions. They come into view, walking like there's nothing wrong. Two women. One much younger than the other but they had the same brunette hair. Their silhouettes were hardly noticeable; to Louis they could be hollograms. One laughs, the younger one, and gets a swat from the older. The door opens two feet from Louis and in steps none other than.........Harry. He's different, younger and a little happier; no stubble and trimmed hair that looked ideal on the young lad. He is smiling and he turns to Louis, dropping his key with absolutely no apprehension of Louis' gaping jaw. Harry calls out a female name. Gemma. And the younger lady pops around the corner for a brief embrace. Then it's over. Everyone disappears and Louis sits up, getting ready to have another go at abusing himself awake. Rustling stops him, and loud laughter. The door swings wide open, slamming into the wall that help keep this house standing before two individuals step in. Harry and the young female. Gemma. She was beautiful. Brown hair with green eyes that could match Harry's speck-for-speck. Louis does not know how he can even see that closesly, he just can. Suddenly there's hysteria. The older woman shows up and smacks Harry scross his face, effectively stealing the joy that he'd walked in. Gemma is gone. Louis stands, knowing fully that he can make no difference in trying to defend the subject of his most recent wet dream. Harry did not shout back when the older woman screams at him, profanities and slight inappropriate remarks. Louis watches with a dead heart that's thrumming in his chest like a dying guitar string. It clicks when the older woman pinches Harry's ear and pulls him behind her. Harry's Mother. This is what he was telling her about, the day he was locked in the basement. Louis tries to get what he can from the mother's face but she isn't looking at him or anywhere near him for him to have an uninterrupted view. She opens the small door beneath the staircase, disappearing inside with a frightened and protesting Harry for a few minutes that have Louis pulling out his hair. When she reappears she presses down her apron, smoothing out the creases and neatening her hair. Louis wants to scream at her just as she had at Harry. How dare she?! Louis watches, horrified as a shadow drifts from downstairs. It knocks past the mother and she goes stiff, closing her eyes and crumbling to the ground. Louis can't find the shadow. Gemma comes out of the kitchen, in tears as she shakes her mother and Louis feels pity. She calls for Harry who isn't answering. Gemma shakes her mother forcefully, until a moment when even time is frozen and in shock with Louis. Gemma is flung across the room by a powerful, shadowy arm. Her neck is bent at an awkward angle, slumped against the adjacent wall to Louis. Louis has the urge to call to her but he suppresses it. The shadow bends over the limp body of the sibling's mother. Louis' eyes bore into his skull as even they try to avoid watching this horrific scene. The 'body' of the shadow seems to bend at odd angles, and is a rusty brown with hair that flows against gravity. The face is angular and long, until it sinks gingerly into the body below it. Then Louis can see nothing except two bodies that don't seem to be moving. Louis takes a step forward, wanting to do something besides stand there helplessly. All the lights go out and he freezes, his eyes shut. When he has the courage to reopen them he just wants to be a panel of wood or rug that could not be heard or smelt. The face before him is that of the woman who had been on the ground moments before. Just, paler like white page and haunted with white eyes. He swallows his tongue and his chest heaves from panic. Her arm reaches out, touching his arm with interest. She smiles at him before closing in.

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