Something that wasn't God blew life into Harry Styles.

*LOUIS' POV*

My palms are clammy and my back is the home to a severe ache in the mid-region, I can tell without opening my eyes that my skin is dampened with salty perspiration and distress. I feel it all slip away from me, into the faded ruins of an unfortunate night.
The throbbing worsens when I sit up, pressing the heels of my feet into the mattress and placing my head between my hands as I try to regain some lost focus.

What?

I look around the room I'm in, it's completely dark and soundless. The only light comes from the pale moon that I get a glimpse of every night through a fogged window. I'm in a bed, ruffled by panic and filled with dread.

Where am I?

"Lou?" The voice cuts through my frantic vibes that could power a car. It's muffled against something and husky, low and too familiar.

I shuffle sidewards, remembering my last encounter with this individual who used to be my
favorite person ever. In my arguably clever attempt to get away, I slip off the edge of the bed and land face first on the floor.

"Louis!" Harry is sounding worried, high-pitched from shock and normal.

When he rushes to help me I recoil from his touch, and his face falls all at once. The noise of active crickets outside is no spookier than it is every other night, but now I am particularly terrified. Confused and terrified, a lethal combo.

"What's wrong?" Harry sits on the floor next to me, he's really here. Green eyes and slight dents in his cheek, I ignore the concerned frown of his forehead and the thin line of his lips. He's here.

Why is he here?

He doesn't rush me to answer, and I can't find any words to respond. I clutch the comforter to my chest in a defeated manner, feeling worn out and just heavy from thought. The burden of having such a cruel nightmare has taken its toll. Was it a nightmare?

"What happened?" It comes out as a squeak when I look up.

"I don't understand." Harry looks at me, puzzled but not mocking.

He reaches out and I had to make sure he was real. That he is really here and this isn't Phase Two of my mind getting back at me for the stress all those years ago. I pathetically scramble onto his lap, lodging my small body between his legs and bringing my fingers up to brush against any available spot of skin.

He is silent but I can tell he's finding it incredibly difficult not to ask me what I'm doing. I ignore the impulse to please him by answering.

It was so real. Every detail was so well outlined and so very, very real. The possibility of it being a truth was frightening, to say the least. To have to face everyday knowing Harry was a slave to some subordinate thing out there, the terrifying part was the end. I left him there. I just felt so afraid that all hope of helping Harry was lost and I left him there. All alone and scared.
I hug him tight now, because after pressing my fingertips to all the features of his face and neck, I am assured that he is really here for me to hold. He hugs me back, arms engulfing my tiny frame like I'm a teddy bear to wrestle with, and he plants his lips firmly on my temple.

"What's the matter? You're shaking." Harry rubs his hands up and down my back.

I let myself feel the rhythm of his beating heart and affection of his embrace while I answer. "It was a nightmare. It felt so real, Harry. I thought it was and I was so scared because I believed it. I don't want to lose you."

"Hey. Lou, don't cry." Harry thumbs away my tears that have escaped. "I'm here, always here for you. Only you, my special boy."

I sniff like I never learned any manners, and my back feels cold from being exposed to the chill of the night. "I don't know.....I don't know what really happened. Can you tell me? Last night, I mean. I don't know what's real."

I'm a mess of sobs when I choke out the last sentence, curling myself into a ball against Harry and reveling in his preoffered warmth. I feel childish and incandescent, so very stupid and imbecilic for not being able to distinguish between fact and fiction.

It was just so real.

"It's alright, my love. It's alright. Breathe. I've got you." Harry staggers to his feet and drops back down onto the bed.

He waits for me with patience and worry dotting his expression, as I clamber into a comfortable position beneath the covers. He drapes arm over my body when I fold in on myself, my knees to his thighs and my head under his chin.

"Roger called and asked you to make a delivery. You said yes so we have to go in today, in about two hours. You were tired so I brought you to bed after we dragged the mattress in here. We don't have to go, Lou. We can just stay here and I'll talk to Roger."

"I'm sorry." I shake my head.

"Nothing to be sorry for, precious." He pulls me closer to him so we're sharing a pillow and wrapped in three duvets.

What am I doing? My eyes are wide open, frozen that way from the flood of horrible emotions.
Fear. Helplessness. Hatred. Anxiety. Misfortune.

I left him there. That's a plain, uncoated, terribly shaky realisation. It was a dream, the act of a bored subconscious, but even then I shouldn't be so ready to abandon Harry when he needs me. He never did that to me, I'd like to confirm that he never would.

Those cold and dingy depths of his eyes, pale and so lifeless. Drained of all emotion, all the little things that make a person happy. He looked at me blankly then, said nothing when I told him I loved him.

"I love you." I find myself muttering, so desperately trying to level up my reality.

"I love you, Lou. I love you so much." He flattens my legs and tangles our limbs. "So much. Don't shake, love. Why are you so afraid? I won't let you get hurt. I promise."

I'm a terrible person. I'm a sad waste of an existance, lowly and so selfish. Harry has given me what so many people dream of having, be it not as twisted as our truth us, but I'm so unable to stick with him. I'd prove to him and myself that I can stay through it all, every difficulty that was lined up.

When the drumming in my chest dies down and the overruling terror subsides, I take a deep breath. The lazy intake of oxygen does nothing to clear my mind but it does manage to calm my raging nerves, coating them with paracetemol and numbing the loud thumps before any arteries give away.

"You weren't you." I start, finally noticing the shiver in my voice and tremor of my fingers.

"Shh. You don't have to tell me now. Let me call Roger and tell him you can't make the delivery,
okay?"

"Don't go." I grab his arm with both my hands, and can't help but notice such a grand difference in size.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'll call him from your phone then we can get some sleep, yeah?"

I nod slowly, lowering my gaze and burying my face in his chest. I listen to his conversation with Roger and can't find it in me to smile when Roger whines loudly on loudspeaker.

"Where's Louis?" Roger asks.

"He's asleep. We're sorry, Roger, but it just popped up." Harry goes with the excuse of him catching the flu. Roger was a complete idiot for not asking why he - the supposed sick one - is calling him and not me.

"It's alright, I guess. I'll get some shut-eye before waking up in an hour. Bye, Harry."

"Bye."

Harry hangs up and puts the device away on the floor with the charger before turning on his side to wrap himself around me. "Sleep now, love. Want some tea?"

I shake my head, my hair getting knotted at the fringe because of the friction against his chest. "In the morning."

I left the guy who is willing to wake up and make me tea now, at one in the morning; who rose from his sleep and stayed awake to comfort me. He was staying up, calling my employer to ask for me to be let off the hook. How could I leave a person who saw worth in me?

Harry's past was dark - is dark - but won't forever be a forbidden cave of locked fantasies. Truths too, which is far more devastating. As if to prove my hatred for judgment I tighten my arms around Harry's back and my fingers curl against his skin. Why would people be so cruel? Why would they want to take Harry away and strip him of his happiness?

Unexpectedly, my mind takes me back to the first time I met Harry and the few awful encounters that followed.

Awful is the understatement of the century. It still made me cringe, flinch and choke on air everytime I remembered some nights in that house and how completely lost Harry was to the world. Nobody cared to ground him, smile and ask if he was okay like the rest of us. We had football practice and dentist appointments, but I don't know what he had besides his family. I still have that but he doesn't. It breaks my heart.

The night at the police station, when I'd hidden in the safety of Jeffrey's office, will always be a prominent memory. Harry had stormed in demanding to know where I was, at the time it filled my heart with cold fear.

And now I'd do anything and everything for him, it's about making him happy. Doing what it takes to please Harry because he accepted me as I am, and the least I can do is the same.
I kiss his chest, right in between the sparrows that always seem to be arguing in my head. He hums before encouraging me to sleep with soft nudging of his chin. Soft snores fill the room soon after.

My mind is too exhausted to conjure up another terrifying dream, that would occupy my shameless shaking body for much too long. I sleep for long hours but it is bleak, empty and very hot from having three layers of duvets and another person caging me in.

While Harry sleeps I close my eyes and absentmindedly run my fingers through his curls repeatedly. They're soft from him using outrageous amounts of conditioner - all vanilla scented - and damp from the sweat that always escaped through his pores.

Flashes of my initial nightmare cross my mind, and I cringe into Harry's touch for protection. He mumbles in his deep sleep, roughly encircling me and falling back under again. I awaken to the realisation that while I am unfortunately restless, Harry is sound asleep and I am able to feel all those scars on his back without fear of him pulling away like he always has.

First, I reach for a small but white and permanent cut on his shoulder blade that extends for a short distance. It's risen off the surface of his skin and feels lumpy, which isn't how the biggest mark feels. It is ragged and torn to the touch, with creases in the skin where his muscles flex and jagged edges of flesh where it was shredded. He must have bled for days before it clotted.
I trace a few with my fingertip, feeling my heart crush and turn to mush at the thought of Harry being harmed. The tattoo on his arm has always meant nothing to me, a huge ship that only he knows the meaning to. I've never gotten a tattoo, besides not liking them I also never found the time.

"Lou?" Harry's morning voice that's husky and downright sinful breaks the morning ice.

"Hi." I greet in a small voice.

Harry surges forward, knocking me back and stealing the oxygen from my lungs. I'm paralysed against his lips until he pulls back, teeth locked around my bottom lip before letting go so it slaps against my teeth.

"Feeling any better?" He props himself up on his elbows. "Took you a while to fall asleep last night."

He's begun to play with what skin of mine he can come into contact with. My tummy and my hands, sizing them up to be compared to his features and restraining his laugh.

"Um...maybe. A little knackered." I respond truthfully.

"I'll make you some breakfast and tea then you can sleep, 'kay?"

"I don't want to sleep alone."

"I have to shower. I'm....." He looks to the door and I feel my chest tighten. "I'm going to talk to Martha today about a job."

A frown sets on my forehead, my arms pull my weight up so I'm sitting upright. Harry watches me warily, not coming closer when I cross my legs so I'm not touching him at all now.
A job? Why would he need a job? I can't help but think that Harry's probably bored having to lie around the flat all day. My dream......I recall that there was a conversation about Harry wanting a job.

"Do you- Do you really want to? Work, I mean." I can't seem to get the words out. Does he want to leave? Is he too polite to say that I'm boring him?

"Well, yeah." He smiles. "Then I can pay for groceries and some of the rent."

*NARRATOR'S POV*

Louis didn't understand what Harry wanted to do those things for. He was happy to take care of Harry, there was enough money. Harry was passively adament on acquiring a job so he could feel independant. He's never had a job before.

Louis looks down at his hands, so very confused. He's been trying to make Harry happy but all along under the smiles and laughs, Harry really wasn't. He would not deny him this opportunity.

"Good luck." Louis gives him a genuine smile. "One more reason to eat take-out food."

Harry's relieved laugh is cut short along with the supply of air he was inhaling when Louis knocks him over by his shoulders.

"Louis?" Harry cautiously tries to get the smaller man's attention.

Louis presses his body against Harry's, hands nailed to the mattress on either side of Harry's head.

Louis was a man on a mission, he was going to prove to Harry that nothing could make him happier than Louis could. Harry privately loved this, because it was so different to when Louis and him had first been intimate. Harry was terrified at the time, mainly of Louis not accepting him but he did. Now, he had his Louis and was going to protect him from the world.

Harry knew he himself was the biggest threat to Louis, but no one needed to know that.

"Lou?" Harry chuckles into Louis' ear when he starts fumbling with Harry's boxers. "You okay?"

"F-Fine." Louis bites his lip in concentration and finally gets the the elastic dragged off. "Want to do this."

"Do what, Lou?" Harry mischeviously grabs Louis' hands and knots their fingers together. He kisses each finger where the fine hairs are present.

"Want to taste you."

Harry was so turned on by the desparation in Louis' voice, but he also truly cared for Louis and
would never allow him to act on a whim.

"You need to rest. I'll make breakfast." Harry kisses the boy's temple nice and slowly.

"Want you." Louis whines and fights to have his hands back before sliding down Harry's front.

Louis rips the underwear off like it's a personal enemy. He doesn't waste time in making Harry's semi a full hard-on and just takes him in his mouth until he's gagging. He may regret acting so quickly but it's a passing thought that he ignores. Harry falls onto the mattress, slowly pumping his hips in and out of Louis' mouth. Louis hollows his cheeks, sucks hard until Harry's groaning and then goes deeper. His tongue dips into the slit at the tip, making Harry jerk once before gripping the sheets in tight fists.

"Lou?" Harry pants.

But Louis ignores him and bobs his head in long strokes, taking the length entirely before drawing back entirely. He holds on to Harry's hips and sometimes moves them to thrust into the warmth of his throat. He ignores his own erection because this is about Harry.

"Lou! Stop." Harry shouts when he releases. He wasn't able to hold it but Louis takes it like an
angel, swallowing around him until he's dry.

"Why did you want me to stop?" Louis wipes his mouth and Harry flattens him on the bed.

"Because I don't ever want to come anywhere except inside you." Harry growls against Louis' bared neck.

Louis whines at that and presents himself to Harry by raising his hips.

"Can I, Lou?" Harry grinds down lightly. "Would you like me inside you?" He grinds down a little harder. "I could go slow if you want me to, we could make love. We've never done that, have we?"

If Louis bit his lip harder, it would have been non-existant. He wanted to go slow, it would seem like they were making love instead of fucking slowly. He'd like that.

Louis nods slowly and pouts for Harry to kiss him. Harry gives in with a smirk.

"Slowly then, yeah?" Harry thumbs Louis' boxers off.

"Hmmm." Louis moans with his eyes closed.

"Can I go in dry? Won't be able to sit for days."

"Hmmm."

Harry ignores Louis' consent and holds his hand up to his mouth, going to use spit as a lubricant but Louis stops him.

"Please. I can't wait." He begs with those blue, blue eyes.

"Alright, Lou." He kisses the soft skin below Louis' ear.

Louis has to bite down the sheer need to scream when Harry positions the head of his nine-inch-long member, red and neglected but fully hard again from indiscreetly grinding against Louis' thigh, at his entrance. He pushes in slowly, knowing that Louis will need to adjust but secretly he is overhwelmed by the need to pound into this small boy and mark him with bruises everywhere.

As for Harry's promise, it is not forgotten and he keeps to his word of thrusting with slow and measured movements. Louis emits choked off moans of pleasure and Harry looms over him like an attacker - or protector - grunts falling from his parted lips.

They take their time, Louis' muscular and firm thighs hooking around Harry's middle with his lips catching onto Harry's for a breath-shortening kiss. He has to lift himself off the mattress to not break away. He is sure to leave behind as many red lines down Harry's back, creating tracks on the warm skin that were reminders of him.

They manage to keep their eyes open for the first minute at most, looking at each other as if
they're the only two people on the planet. Their gazes lock and no matter Harry's hard or sloppy thrust that causes a whimper to fall from Louis' lips, they don't look away.

Harry got that fuzzy feeling again, he'd never experienced it at all before meeting Louis, before claiming Louis as his forever. It was warm, at first it made him feel uncomfortable because of the familiarity but now he loved feeling it. He chased after moments like this, demanding to feel it and have every aspect, detail or connotation of the emotion commited to memory. This was his high, all of it with Louis.

The moment they have to lose contact is when Louis can feel his high imminently approaching, and raises his pelvis to meet Harry's. Harry is accustommed to the signs of when Louis is close to his end, so he presses his own body flush against Louis' before quickening his pace. Louis is unrealistically tiny against Harry's body that went on for miles, they also didn't fit like Harry would read in novels. He ignored it because Louis is his. Louis was becoming dependant on him, and he could not say no. He wanted to be depended on, wanted to be needed.
After their steady releases, Louis lies with his fingers tangled in Harry's signature curls. The bigger boy stops shifting ideally lessening the Louis' discomfort because of oversensitivity. He was afraid of the shivers that would course through him like rampant losses if Harry pulled out now.

"Lou?" Harry noses Louis' jaw like he had for the first time all those weeks ago.

"Hmm?" Louis' eyes are closed and his head is turned to the side, only cheek is exposed.

"You okay? Are you hurting? Tell me."

"I'm fine."

"Lou." Harry whines now, nipping at Louis' jaw and earlobe coaxing him to look.

"I'm okay, Harry." Louis smiles, resisting a giggle. "I love you."

Louis' never said it first before and now he's terrified that Harry had lied two days ago, and will never say it back.

"I love you." Harry sighs in content when he pulls out and rolls them over. Harry positions himself on his front, face buried in the pillows but still able to look at Louis almost asleep again beside him.

"Lou?" Harry questions when the boy starts shifting. "What are you doing?"

"Shoosh." Louis silences him without kissing him and Harry chuckles, allowing only the mass of dark brown curls to crown his head as he gets lost in the pillows.

Louis shuffles over, wincing sometimes when he's exposed to the cold air. Dynasville is not a very warm county.
He wraps his arms around Harry's middle and draws nearer to him until his small body is
draped across Harry's.

"Lou? If you're cold I could-"

"I'm not cold." Louis pulls the comforter up and nestles between Harry's shoulder blades.
Harry releases the tension that usually gathers when anyone touches his back, because he needs to let Louis touch him, accept him. The smaller boy doesn't notice his inner turmoil as he sleeps and Harry smiles before folding his arms under his pillow to drift off too.

"Harry?" Louis is shaking his shoulder. "Harry, wake up."

Harry is lost in the state of in and out of sleep that he can't decipher whether Louis is actually doing so or he's imagining it.

However, when Louis' warm breath fans over Harry's face he wants it to be real enough that he opens his eyes to smile dopily at Louis.

"Why'd you wake me up?" He sees Louis lying sprawled out next to him and wraps a strong arm around him.

"Because Martha's calling. She came up a few minutes ago asking for-"

"Oh!" Harry shoots up, back suddenly upright and senses stationed on Code Red. He clambers to his feet and goes in search of pants while Louis laughs loudly from the bed.

"Go on then, laugh at me." Harry tries to sound stern but that only makes the circumstance all the more hilarious for Louis.

"I am." He breathes out and dramatically wipes a tear from his cheek. "Think we should get you some clothes."

"I like these clothes." Harry doesn't hear himself while shrugging on a shirt.

"Doesn't matter. We can go when you get back."

"Alright then." He leans down to kiss Louis chastely. "Wish me luck."

"As if you'll need it!" Louis shouts to Harry as he hurries out the door.

What meager amount of Louis' adrenaline has now dwindled and the setting of where he is settles in, like pebbles in a lake. The air gets chillier and the flat gets lonelier, a few dust particles can be seen as they fall from the ceiling fan and every screech from a passing car is accentuated. The humming of their beat-down refrigerator and the flickering of their eco-friendly light bulbs all contribute to this less than soothing environment.

But Louis isn't a child anymore, hiding under the blanket won't protect him from anything. Especially from some of the things he's seen. He is alone.

Notes