Archive of Our Own

“He’s beautiful” are the first words out of Harry’s mouth when he catches sight of the flustered boy darting into the lecture hall.

His friend, Niall, rolls his eyes and reaches over to steal a bite of the distracted boy’s breakfast sandwich. “Is he?” the Irish lad mumbles around the egg in his mouth. “Didn’t notice, I was too busypaying attention.”

Harry snatches his sandwich back with a petulant frown. He’s about to tell Niall off for not getting his own breakfast this morning when he feels a small finger poking at his back, followed by a whispered, “Excuse me?”

Behind Harry stands the beautiful boy looking winded and flushing red in the darkened room. His eyes are blue, Harry notices instantly, a blue that he could write about for pages and pages if he were given the chance.

“I’m sorry, but is this English 240?” He asks, his hushed voice high and sweet sounding. Harry can do nothing but nod and the boy sighs in relief. He sits down in the empty seat beside Harry and pulls out a notebook that looks used if the drawings all over the first few pages are anything to go by.

“Got lost, ended up in some history class,” the sweet boy-cotton candy sweet, Harry thinks, soft and gentle-explains. “Was someone sitting here?”

At first Harry only shakes his head, but then decides he should probably say something. “No it’s not taken,” is what he comes up with. Then, “M’name’s Harry.”

Sugary Sweet boy grins and nods, his blue eyes crinkling at the sides. “Louis.” He then turns his attention to the professor.

Niall jabs Harry in the side and raises an eyebrow, nodding his head to the professor. And he tries, honestly he does, but he cannot focus. All he can see is Louis beside him; eyebrows drawn together over his blue eyes, nimble fingers caked with paint around the nails and wrapped around his pencil that flies across the paper effortlessly, and teeth chewing on his thin lower lip whenever he takes a break from writing to listen to the professor.

In short, Harry might as well have just skipped class entirely. When the professor dismisses them Louis darts away and it’s as if a spell has been lifted off the boy. Looking down at his notes Harry finds only two lines of the page are filled, mostly with question marks and ask Niall, and he can remember nothing other than the exact shade of blue paint crusted around Louis’ nails.

(Pale blue, almost electric, like his eyes.)

“Was he that fit?” Niall jokes when he catches sight of Harry’s “notes”.

Harry nods and stands up so he can gather his bag and books and go to his next class. “Yeah, he was Ni.”

To Harry’s dismay, Louis isn’t in either of his two classes for the rest of the day. He spends both of them jotting down a poem about a boy he hardly knows with the paint splattered hands and crinkly eyed smile. When he returns to his dorm later on that night, after lazing about a nearby coffee shop for a few hours, he finds Liam and Niall on Niall’s bed. They’re speaking in hushed voices like they do, their foreheads pressed together, smiles wide, hands tracing over one another aimlessly.

Harry finds himself longing for something so intimate, something so natural.

“Y’alright Haz?” Liam asks, pulling from Niall to fix Harry with a concerned frown.

Harry nods and drops down onto his bed so he can stare up at the water stained tiled ceiling of their dorm room, hands knitted behind his head. “I want to fall in love.” He tells them. They both just nod and go back to whispering, completely unaware of how lucky they are.

…

Louis looks around himself and realizes he isn’t sure how he ended up here.

Well, not here technically, not on the kitchen floor holding his bruised stomach and whimpering in an attempt not to cry, because he knows very well how he ended up here. He just wonders how he ever ended up in this situation, how he ever let himself become this person.

“Get up!” Two harsh kicks come in quick succession to his thigh and Louis holds in a yelp. Nathan doesn’t like it when Louis cries, it only makes him angrier. “I’m hungry and you’re going to remake this until it’s not burnt. Understand?”

Louis nods and hiccups through a sob. “I’m sorry.” He whispers, and he hates himself for it.

Nathan grunts and leaves Louis to drag himself up off the floor and attempt to salvage the chicken. Louis’s never been a very good cook but he always seems to get by well enough for his boyfriend. This time though he’d been distracted by the excited text messages from Zayn and had burned it. Nathan hadn’t been happy.

After pushing the new chicken around in the pan for a bit, Louis sneaks a glance over to the living room. Nathan is sat on the couch, laughing uproariously at something on the telly, and not really paying attention to Louis in the kitchen. In a stealthy move worthy of a spy movie, Louis grabs his phone off the table and types a response to Zayn quickly, before returning to the chicken.

When the chicken and the rest of the food are finished, Louis calls Nathan and starts making plates for the two of them. A pair of strong arms wrap around his waist from behind and tug, brushing across Louis’ bruises painfully. He holds the protest in though, resolving to just gritting his teeth and baring it.

“Not so much chicken, you’re getting fat.” Nathan says bluntly. As if to prove the point, he reaches for Louis’ small pouch of stomach and pinches, pulling the fat until Louis nods and cuts his piece of chicken in half, sending that and almost everything else on his plate back into their respective pans.

The couple sits at the table, which Louis has already set, and Nathan launches into a story about his day. He’s a bit older than Louis, twenty-five to be exact, and he works at a law firm doing very important things with very important people. He takes any chance give to drone on about it and Louis knows exactly how to play it. The younger boy nods, smiles, and ask questions all in the right places while trying to ignore how his stomach is growling and empty.

“How was your first day of classes?” Nathan asks, casually. He smiles, his brown eyes much kinder than they were only minutes ago, and Louis thinks if he looks hard enough he can still see the reasons he fell in love with the man almost a year ago.

Louis shrugs his bony shoulders and pushes his food around his plate. “It was alright. I have to take an English course which I’m not looking forward to, but I might just have Zayn tutor me.”

Nathan’s gaze goes cold just as quickly as it had turned caring. “I don’t want you spending a lot of time with Zayn, you understand?”

Louis curses himself for even mentioning it. Even when they hadn’t lived together, Nathan was jealous of Zayn. The two boys had a flat together and, despite what almost everyone including Nathan thought, they weren’t dating but in fact just best friends since practically infancy. Even after Louis moved out over the summer to live with Nathan, the two stayed as close as ever.

“Nate, he’s my best friend-”

Nathan drops his fist on the table hard, making Louis jump in his seat. “I don’t want you around him and that is final, Louis!” he bellows. “You’re lucky I let you spend any time with him at all, what with how the little bastard looks at you and all.”

The silence that falls over them is punctuated only by the shaking of Louis’ hands as he tries to go back to eating nonchalantly. “You’re right,” he murmurs, clutching his jittery hands in his lap. “I’m sorry Nate, I know you’re only trying to look out for me. Thank you.”

Nathan just nods and returns to his food. He stabs a piece of chicken with his fork and shoves it into his mouth, before making a face. “Your cooking is shit, I don’t know why I keep you around.”

Louis hopes he chokes.

…

“Someone has to know him, Li,” Harry whines to his friend. “You’ve really never seen him before?”

Liam sighs and shakes his head sadly, for about the fifth time since the two made it to the cafeteria. “I’m really sorry Harry but it’s a big uni, there are a lot of short, brown haired guys here. Can’t you just wait until class tomorrow?”

Harry shakes his head but doesn’t push the subject. Liam pats him on the back and with an apologetic smile and goes back to looking around the cafeteria. Harry isn’t hungry so he just follows the other lad around, watching as he calculates the caloric intake of a sandwich versus a burrito. He’s drawn from that thrilling conversation by a small voice behind him that brings him right back to the day before.

“It’s just a diet, nothing big. I just noticed I’m gaining a bit of weight, is all.”

Harry whips around and reaches over to squeeze Liam’s forearm, making him drop one of the sandwiches in his hands. Louis is standing just steps away in front of the refrigerated drinks, talking to another boy with a worried frown and who’s just about as beautiful, Harry thinks.

“Lou, babe, there’s nothing wrong with you, you don’t need to go on a diet,” Beautiful Boy says, rubbing lightly at Louis’ shoulder. “You’re perfect.”

Louis pulls away from his friend and laughs. “Oh come on Z, look at this,” he gestures to his stomach and shrugs. “It’s not anything drastic, just trying to get rid of the freshman-turned-junior fifteen.”

Harry’s breath catches in his throat. He has to fight off the urge to run over and agree with Louis’ friend, tell him just how beautiful every little detail of himself is, tell him that Harry’s had writer’s block for almost a month straight and last night somehow managed to fill three pages on Louis.

Louis’ friend huffs and starts whispering too low for Harry to hear what he’s saying. Whatever it is, it makes Louis stiffen up and his eyes flit around nervously. Harry watches on, just as confused as Louis’ friend, when Louis bolts out of the cafeteria. After a moment’s hesitation, the dark haired boy follows.

“I think that’s his boyfriend,” Harry murmurs, thinking to how close they were standing to one another.

Liam makes a low noise in his throat, giving Harry sad puppy dog eyes. “Oh, Haz, m’sorry. That’s shit luck.”

“My kind of luck.” Harry sighs under his breath. Liam shakes his head but says nothing else on the matter, instead just giving his friend a side hug that lasts until they finally sit down with a burrito.

When Harry goes back to his dorm that night he pours over the pages of his notebook, but writes nothing else. He just drags his pencil over a few of the words, darkening them and making them larger until he bores a hole through a piece and decides not to dwell on it.

He’s always been one to fall too fast for a pair of pretty eyes or a nice smile, always one to spend late nights writing about the way their hair falls over their eyes or maybe the way their fingers are in constant motion. Harry’s always been the sort to have his heart broken without any real reason and maybe that’s why no one has ever fallen in love with him back.

 …

Louis has a studio at Nathan’s home which is what he first loved about moving in. He and Zayn had shared one room in their small flat just off campus and their work sort of spread throughout it. Louis’ drying paintings and sketches littered the floor alongside Zayn’s crumpled up manuscripts and ancient typewriter Louis bought him for Christmas when they were sixteen. Anyone who dared come over was hit instantly with the smell of oil paints, lead, and pot, the smell that the two boys had come to love almost as much as they loved each other.

The studio at Nathan’s is different. Louis tries to keep it clean so as not to anger his boyfriend, resulting in a bright airy space with half-finished and drying canvases providing the only source of color. He sits now in the middle of the room on a stool in front of an easel, blending charcoal with his finger gently over the portrait of the dying tree he will never admit is supposed to represent him.

The branches start out fine, healthy even, but as you grow closer and closer to the trunk they become tangled and rotted, darker than the outer branches. It makes Louis inexplicably angry sometimes that he’s done this to himself, but then there are always Nathan’s words.

No one will ever love you like I will.

You deserve this.

You made me do this.

“Louis?” Nathan calls as he opens the front door. Louis stays seated, defining a particularly horrible branch until Nathan comes in and chuckles. “Look at my lovely Louis and his paintings. Silly thing.”

Louis turns around and smiles at Nathan, leaning up for a kiss because his boyfriend’s in a good mood and he’s going to take complete advantage. Nathan pecks him quickly on the lips and smiles down at the younger boy, letting a finger run up and down the column of his neck

“Missed you today.”

“Missed you too.” Louis says back, and it isn’t a complete lie. He does miss Nathan, but he missesthis Nathan. He misses the soft touches and the cuddling and the kind words.

Nathan crouches down just enough to lean his chin on Louis’ shoulder. “What’s this then?” Louis shrugs as best he can without jostling the man too much. Nathan chuckles. “Quite ugly, innit?”

“Well, it’s sort of supposed to be.” Louis says, looking down at his charcoal covered fingers sadly.

Nathan laughs even louder and kisses him on the cheek. “Of course it is, love. Good thing you aren’t the one making the money here, yeah?”

Louis sits in front of his canvas for a little while longer after Nathan leaves the room. It is ugly, he decides, because it’s him and he’s ugly. Worthless, ugly, and disgusting. With a sigh, Louis takes the portrait and leans it on the wall, the tree facing away from him.

…

When Harry gets to English class on Wednesday morning, Louis is already there and sitting in the same seat next to Harry and Niall’s just like on Monday. He jumps in surprise when Harry sits down beside him, but it quickly turns into a soft smile when he sees who it is.

“Hello Harry.”

“You remembered my name.” Harry says stupidly.

To his relief, Louis laughs and doesn’t say a word about how strange that was. Harry has to stop himself from sighing when he hears Louis’ laugh and he knows he’ll definitely be writing about that tonight.

Louis leans forward a bit, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Did you remember mine?” He challenges.

Harry grins and nods proudly. “Louis. It’s a beautiful name, kind of hard to forget. Like you.”

Louis’ eyes widen at this and he blushes, pulling back and averting his eyes from Harry’s. He chooses instead to look over the syllabus, frowning slightly at it, before pulling out his phone and texting.

“What’s your major?”

Louis startles upwards again. It looks, if only for a moment, that he thinks Harry might not even be talking to him. “I um…it’s art, actually. Painting.”

Harry’s eyes are drawn to his fingers again, which have all sorts of different colors splattered on them now, leading Harry to believe he’s only just come from painting. “I’m so jealous,” he chuckles. “Everything I draw looks about as good as something you’d find hanging in a preschool.”

Louis laughs and covers his mouth with his small hand to muffle the noise a bit. “What about you, then?”

“I’m a writer.”

“Should have known,” Louis smirks. “You remind me a lot of my best friend Zayn, he’s a writer too. Are you a freshman? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around before.”

Harry nods, ignoring the little burst of happiness he gets at just the fact Louis is talking to him. Louis goes back to his phone, nodding a bit as he texts someone back.

“I’m a junior. Been putting this class off for three years almost, I figured might as well get it over with, yeah?”

Louis texts for a little while longer and Harry does not miss the way something seems to sweep over him. He slouches lower in his chair and frowns, bringing one of his fingernails to his lips and biting at it. Harry wants to ask what’s wrong, but that would probably be over stepping the boundaries-they hardly know each other, after all-and yet Harry can’t help but feel terrible when he sees Louis shut his phone off and rest his chin on his propped up hand.

“Haz! I brought food!”

Everyone in the now mostly occupied lecture hall turns to stare at Niall, who comes bounding in with a wide smile. He drops a McDonalds bag down in front of Harry as he passes with a proud, “Ta-da!”

“What’s this, then?” Harry asks, opening the paper bag and looking inside.

“It’s an apology mcmuffin for kicking you out Saturday night.”

“You didn’t kick me out Saturday night.” Harry says slowly, but he takes the mcmuffin and hashbrown out anyway.

Niall shakes his head. “No, but I am kicking you out Saturday night. Liam and I are…studying.” He wiggles his eyebrows and makes an obscene gesture with his hands that has Harry coughing and spitting out pieces of muffin and sausage everywhere. Niall throws his head back and cackles until Harry punches him in the stomach, at which point he switches to loud, dramatic crying and coughing.

Niall, Harry, and Liam all met on their first day of freshman year of high school at lunch, when not one of them had anyone to sit with. From then on they sort of stuck together, each taking an interest in something more Fine Art’s related, and Niall and Liam growing particularly close. They were supposed to get a room with three beds together but somehow-a computing error, the uni insisted-it ended up that Niall and Harry shared one room while Liam shared one with someone none of them knew.

“You’re fucking disgusting, both of you,” Harry mutters, picking at his mcmuffin mournfully. “Why can’t you just use Liam’s room?

Niall rolls his eyes and seems incredibly angry on Liam’s behalf as he says, “Because his roommate is a homophobic dick, apparently. I swear, if he tries something-”

“I have a friend who works in the housing office. I could talk to her if you’d like?” The voice that interrupts them seems to come from nowhere and it’s incredibly timid and unsure sounding. When both Harry and Niall turn to look, Louis shrinks down further in his chair and blushes bright red. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

Harry wants to reassure him, tell him there’s no need to look so scared or worried, but Niall beats him to it. The blond boy is all wide eyes and giant teeth bearing smiles and sometimes, Harry thinks, he can scare the living hell out of people with how enthusiastic he is.

“You would do that, seriously?” Niall exclaims, his voice booming through the hall and making Louis jump. “Li said he talked to them already and there weren’t any rooms!”

Louis sits further up in his chair and shrugs. “It’s just because he’s a freshman. There are a ton of free dorms you just have to know who to ask about it. I’ll talk to El today, what was your boyfriend’s name?”

Niall takes this as an opportunity to babble on about his boyfriend for almost five minutes before Harry intervenes by attempting to push him back into his seat with a hand on his chest. Louis is smiling though, he even lets out a few twinkling giggles now and then, so Harry really isn’t as upset about it as he lets on. It’s only when the professor enters and dims the lights that Niall decides it’s time to stop telling a complete stranger about Liam’s favorite color and return to his seat.

“M’sorry about him.” Harry whispers.

Louis grins and shakes his head. “It’s cute.” With that he pulls out his notebook and starts taking notes.

When the professor dismisses them, Louis is up like a shot and out the door just as he was on Monday. This time though, Harry is prepared. He manages to catch up with Louis just as he turns around a corner towards the stairs and is about to call out his name when someone else does.

“Lou! You wanna get lunch?” Harry looks up and immediately takes a step backwards when he sees it’s the boy from the cafeteria the day before. “We need to celebrate.” He says, all smiles.

Louis’ eyes go wide and he quickly shakes his head. “No, not today Zayn. I have to meet with Nathan for lunch.”

Harry’s heart does a sort of beating dance when he hears Louis call the boy Zayn. That was his best friend he mentioned earlier-not a boyfriend, a best friend. By the time he finally returns to the conversation he sees Zayn has gotten closer to Louis and Louis is clutching a book so close to his chest his knuckles have turned white.

“I have to go Zayn, really,” Louis murmurs, shaking a bit. “He doesn’t like having to wait for me.”

“Lou-”

“Zayn, please,” he pleads, his voice cracking. “I really need to go. I’ll call you tonight, yeah? We can go out this weekend and celebrate.”

“Louis, babe, talk to me.” Zayn whispers. Harry realizes this is probably a very private conversation he shouldn’t be listening in on, but he can’t leave now, he’d call only more attention to himself. Plus, he’s yearning to hear what’s happening.

Louis shakes his head and pulls his friend in for a hug, before scurrying off down the hallway. Harry watches for a moment, still hidden behind the corner, until Zayn finally leaves with a heavy sigh.

Later on that night at dinner, Liam gets a phone call and finds himself moving to a single dorm on Harry and Niall’s floor and Harry realizes what he really wants is to just understand Louis.

…

Lying to Nathan is never a good idea.

Louis learned that lesson months ago and he should have remembered it like he remembers all the rules, but it isn’t everyday your best friend gets a book deal. He thinks that maybe that justifies it until he returns home late Friday night, slightly tipsy, and Nathan is waiting for him on the couch.

“Hello, love.” Louis says, hoping to ease the palpable tension.

Nathan gets up from the couch and walks over slowly with short measured steps. Like an animal stalking his prey, Louis thinks. “Where were you?” Louis shucks his coat off at the door, hanging it on the coat next to Nathan’s. He’s in the process of taking off his shoes when Nathan grabs his arm and gives it a sharp tug. “I asked you a question.”

Louis gulps and toes his shoes off carefully, leaving him barefoot how he likes. “I told you, I had some things to finish up at the studio on campus.”

Nathan’s grip only seems to tighten and he tugs the smaller boy closer. “Is the studio serving alcohol now?” he growls into Louis’ ear. “Don’t you dare lie to me. Where were you?”

“I…Zayn and I went out. He got his book deal he was trying for, we were just-” Louis’s cut off when Nathan’s large hand moves from Louis’ arm to his throat, squeezing until the smaller boy is gasping for air. “Nate, please.” He rasps, dull fingernails scratching uselessly at Nathan’s thick fingers.

Not letting go or laying off, Nathan pulls him forward even more. “What have I told you about Zayn, Louis? And then you go and you hang out with him anyway, you drink with him? Did you fuck him too?”

Louis tries to shake his head but immediately regrets it when black spots start to cloud his vision. “No, no Nathan please, I didn’t. I wouldn’t.” He has to force his voice out around his boyfriend’s fingers and the black spots are becoming larger and larger, until finally the pressure is released.

He falls to the ground, scrambling for purchase on the wood floor and taking gasping breaths. At what point, Louis wonders, will it end? At what point will Nathan not let go, or push too hard, or strike too powerfully? At what point will Louis finally just not wake up.

“You’re a fucking slut,” Nathan growls, his words stinging almost as much as his hits. “Get up.”

Doing as he’s told, Louis scrambles back up to his feet, grabbing a hold of the door handle when his dizzied, oxygen denied brain sends him pitching forward. He tries in vain to regain his balance but it’s useless because Nathan’s mind is already made up. He grabs Louis by the arm and drags him along until they reach the bedroom.

Knowing what’s coming, Louis tries to pull away, but Nathan is so much stronger than him. “Nate, please, please.” Louis pleads as he’s tossed onto the bed like a rag doll.

“I’m sick of it, Louis!” Nathan screams. “I’m sick of having to share you with him!”

Nathan looms over him and grabs Louis’ chin, forcing their eyes to meet. His normally brown eyes are almost entirely black now, and incredibly cold. They bore deep into Louis’ soul and make him shiver in fear, something Nathan obviously relishes if his sinister smile is anything to go by.

“You belong to me,” he whispers, fingernails biting into Louis’ skin. “No one else could ever want you because you’re such a whore. No one else would ever be willing to deal with you. No one else could ever be able to love you except for me. You’re mine. Say it.”

“I’m yours,” Louis sobs. “Nate, please don’t. I don’t want it-”

“I don’t give a fuck what you want.” Nathan backhands Louis, making the defenseless boy cry out in pain. He then squeezes his eyes shut and keeps them that way for the next few hours.

When Nathan first started this, Louis wasn’t able to block it all out. He had to suffer through every horrible moment as Nathan threw him around the bed, tore his clothes from him, and thrust into him with no preparation and no concern for how Louis would scream and beg for him to stop. Now it’s different. Now, Louis can think of something else as Nathan leaves bruises and hurts him. Usually he thinks of home, he thinks of his little sisters jumping on his bed to wake him up in the mornings, thinks of the way his mother smells when she pulls him in for a hug, thinks of how Zayn always held him close at night when he had nightmares. At the moment though he’s thinking of how Zayn had offered to let him crash at his that night and how he said no and how he just wished he were dead.

Nathan falls asleep directly after he finds his release, leaving Louis still whimpering and crying to himself, eyes still squeezed shut. It takes him far too long to peel himself up off the bed and walk carefully into the bedroom. Each small movement brings an aching pain that he’s sure Nathan wanted. He’s sure Nathan wanted Louis to remember who he belongs to.

Not even bothering to turn the lights on, Louis starts the shower and makes sure it’s as hot as it’ll go. Using a flannel, he scrubs and scrubs and scrubs at his skin until it turns a bright, raw red, but nothing changes really. He still feels dirty, he still feels worthless and used.

“Louis?” The bathroom light flips on and Louis instinctively pushes himself back against the shower wall. “Lou, lovely?”

Louis closes his eyes and lets the spray of water wipe his tears away. Nathan always does this. When he’s been really horrible he always pulls Louis back in with his kind words and his smiles and love. Ever since the first time when Louis had broken a picture frame on accident and Nathan had landed a harsh punch to his gut, it’s been this way. He apologizes, holds Louis close, and convinces the boy that they really are in love.

“Sweetheart?”

Louis turns the shower off and pokes his head around the curtain. Nathan grins and holds out a particularly fluffy towel. “Can’t sleep without you, you know that.” His voice is so soft that Louis wants to cry because he sounds so much like the old Nathan, the Nathan he fell in love with.

After wrapping the towel around himself in the shower, Louis steps all the way out and right into Nathan’s arms. Nathan squeezes gently once and starts to slowly rock back and forth, thumbing over a yellowing bruise on Louis’ forearm.

“I’m sorry, Louis,” Nathan sighs. “I wish I didn’t have to do that, I wish I could trust you. I love you so much, baby.”

But he doesn’t have to do it, Louis’ mind screams. Nathan doesn’t have to hurt him; other people’s boyfriends don’t hurt them. Then, of course, there’s the doubt. Maybe he does deserve this. After all, Nathan had only asked him not to lie, not to go out with Zayn, and Nathan’s the only man who’s ever loved him despite all of his flaws.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Louis sighs. “I love you too.”

“Let’s go to bed, alright?” Nathan then grabs Louis’ chin, much gentler than before, but firm enough so Louis knows he’s serious. “I don’t want you leaving the flat until class on Monday. Alright?”

Louis nods obediently and follows Nathan back to bed.

…

Harry likes to write about love, though he’s never had it for himself before. Of course he loves his sister, his mother, and his friends, but he’s never found someone just for himself, someone he can call his own.

He’s had boyfriends before, like Lucas from his last year of school before uni who, as it turns out, was just “going through a phase” and is now in a happy relationship with a girl. Before Lucas was Anthony and before Anthony was Jake and yet none of them were special enough. None of them were ever worthy of poetry or late nights dreaming about the future.

Louis might be.

And he knows it sounds creepy, falling for someone so quickly, someone he hardly knows, but he can’t help it. All his life, Harry’s picked up on the smallest things about people, their mannerisms and their emotions, and his mother always said it made him more empathetic. He, however, thinks it makes him fall in love more easily.

He loves the way Niall tries to find the good in everyone and everything. He loves the way his friend can always find something to laugh about, even when things look hopeless and bleak.

He loves how steady Liam is. He loves how Liam can bring Niall back down to earth with just a brief touch to his arm or a brush of their fingers. He loves how Liam is always there with a comforting hug or calming words when he needs it the most.

Harry loves how energetic and funny his sister is without being the least bit callous or uncaring. He loves how his mother always knows what to say and always knows when Harry needs to be talked to firmly and told exactly what needs to be done, lest he spend his days lazing around and waxing poetic about lampshades or something equally as horrible.

And then there’s Louis. Granted, Harry barely knows him, but he can tell Louis is the type of person with secrets. He can tell by the way Louis worries his bottom lip and the way he fiddles his paint stained fingers there’s something inside his small body that just wants to be let out. Harry also knows Louis is guarded and probably has people who took years to gain his trust and love, people he would do absolutely anything for. And, he knows he wants to know more.

Harry sighs down at his notebook and brings his pen up to his mouth to chew at the end of it. Niall glances over at him from his laptop where he’s mixing some songs together for a project, and smiles.

“It’s going to explode in your mouth one day.”

“Are you trying to seduce me, Mr. Horan?” Harry quips.

Niall cackles loudly and throws at wadded up piece of paper at his friend. “Still moping over your boy?”

“He isn’t my boy.” Harry tells him, quickly.

Niall smiles and goes back to his laptop, playing a downbeat and nodding along to it. “Just ask him out, Haz. Get coffee or something, whatever it is you struggling artists do.”

Harry sighs and shuts his notebook. “He has to have someone, Ni. He’s beautiful. Beautiful painters don’t just walk around being single.”

Niall laughs again, and shrugs. “Won’t know unless you ask.”

Harry hates when Niall’s right.

…

When Louis walks onto campus Monday morning, he’s still incredibly sore and has to wear a scarf to cover up the bruises on his neck. He’s used to that by now, having to wear long sleeved shirts and jeans to cover the bruises, using cover-up to hide black eyes, excusing a limp as a trip and a fall. Louis’s even gone so far as to lie to the nurses at the hospital about a broken arm a few months back.

Sometimes it makes Louis resent everyone. How can they not notice? How can they not see how much pain he’s in and say nothing? Most of the time though, Louis knows he can’t blame them because he isn’t asking for help. Whenever Zayn asks what’s wrong, he lies. If a professor notices how he cringes when he moves around while he paints, Louis lies. When the nurses asked him in confidence if he’d really fallen down the stairs at his flat he had answered yes without so much as a second thought.

That’s why he deserves this.

“Louis!”

Louis frowns and turns around, at first not recognizing the voice. Behind him he sees Harry, the freshman from his English class, bounding up. He jumps around other students all while grinning like an excited puppy. When he finally comes to a halt in front of Louis, he’s breathing heavily and running his hands through his tousled curls. A wide grin splits his face and Louis’ heart warms when he sees the little dimples poking out in his cheeks.

“Hi Louis.”

Louis can’t help but smile back at how excited he appears. “Hey Harry. Did you need something?”

Harry’s smile falls and it’s quickly replaced by an adorable blush. Louis wants to sketch him so badly right then. He’s imagining the colors he’d have to mix to get the precise green of his eyes, the soft pink of his lips and now his cheeks. He thinks about sitting down in front of Harry and just letting his brush paint across the canvas in the perfect swoop of his fringe, the bite of his teeth against his plump lower lip, the bow of his upper.

“I just wanted to say thanks for what you did for Liam?” Harry says, his voice tilting up at the end and making every word sound like a question in itself. Louis scolds himself for finding it terribly cute.

“It’s just, he got picked on a lot when we were kids? And it means a whole lot to them and I…yeah. Thanks?”

Louis covers his mouth when he laughs out of instinct. Nathan’s always told him his laugh is too loud and annoying so it’s practically ingrained into him by now to try and stifle it. “You don’t have to thank me,” he says. “They probably would have switched him out eventually even without me.”

Harry nods a few too many times and then says nothing for a while, leaving an incredibly awkward silence hanging between them. Louis wraps an arm around his stomach protectively when he sees Harry’s green eyes roaming over him. He’s just waiting for Harry to comment on his poorly hidden bruises, or his fat, or how awful his hair looks in the beanie he threw on because he woke up too late to fix his hair.

Harry says nothing like that though, just keeps staring until he finally clears his throat and speaks. “Would you maybe want to go get coffee with me sometime?” His smile is sheepish and when Louis doesn’t answer right away, he starts to shuffle his feet.

Louis knows he should probably do something other than stare, but he can’t. “A date?” He asks, finally, his voice a bit too high and squeaky.

“Yeah, a date I guess.” Harry nods again and flicks his fringe around a bit, almost like a nervous habit.

“I have a boyfriend,” Louis blurts out. Harry takes a step back, looking hurt, and Louis realizes how that must sound. “Fuck. I mean, no, Harry really. I really do have a boyfriend this isn’t like, me trying to fend you off or something. And if I didn’t, I’d definitely say yes.” Louis surprises himself with that and ends up looking just as shocked as Harry, if not more so.

“I should have guessed,” Harry laughs, pulling a hand through his hair. “I mean, obviously you’d have a boyfriend, right? I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine Harry, don’t worry about it.”

A part of him wants to ask what Harry means when he says “obviously you’d have a boyfriend”. Louis hasn’t been asked on a date in ages, even before he was with Nate he mostly stuck to one night stands and quickies in the club bathroom. Nathan was different even from the start when he’d quite literally bumped into Louis in the park one day and demanded to make up for it by getting lunch. Even from the very beginning Louis was going along with whatever Nathan told him to do because in his eyes, no one as attractive as Nathan would even gave him a second glance.

Harry clears his throat again and fixes his hair and yeah, Louis thinks, that’s definitely a nervous habit. “But maybe we could still go for coffee?” Louis raises an eyebrow and Harry quickly tries to amend it. “I mean, just as friends, I’d really like to be your friend. I mean it, I’d never-”

He’s completely floundering so Louis decides to throw the poor boy a line. “You’re good at English, right?”

“Well, that is sort of my thing.” Harry’s eyebrows furrow, knitting together and creating the smallest of wrinkles and Louis can’t decide what he wants more; to smooth them out with his fingers, or to paint them.

“Right, stupid question,” Louis murmurs. “Anyway, I’m sort of looking for a tutor? My best friend I told you about, Zayn, he was going to but he just got a book deal, he’s very busy.” He wonders, only for a moment, what Harry’s reaction might be if Louis had told the truth about why he can’t be tutored by Zayn.

Harry’s entire face lights up like Louis has just offered him the greatest gift of his life. “Of course Louis, I’d love to!” He exclaims, grinning.

Louis smiles back because how can he not when Harry’s smiling like that? “I can pay you-”

“You don’t have to do that,” Harry laughs and Louis notices how loud it is and yet Harry’s hands don’t even flinch towards his mouth. “This could be fun actually, when can we start?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Louis tells him Tuesday during the free hours he usually uses for lunch with Nathan or painting in the studio. He can sacrifice a few hours a week, he figures, as long as he gets to spend it with Harry and his endless enthusiasm and easy smile. As soon as Louis catches himself thinking that way, his heart stutters. Now all he cans see are Nathan’s angry brown eyes, his fingers and hands hitting and choking. Louis sucks in a quick breath that Harry obviously notices.

“Louis?” His voice is laced with concern that he shouldn’t have and Louis can’t deal with that.

“M’alright, just realized I’m late for class. I’ll see you tomorrow, then? I’m usually in the smaller studio on the second floor around noon, if that works for you. If you can’t find me just ask around, I’m sort of infamous up there.” Harry nods and Louis takes that as an invitation to turn and walk briskly away.

He barely makes it to the stairs before he’s pulling out his phone and dialing. Nathan had a meeting earlier, meaning he won’t be able to make it in time to pick Louis up for lunch, but Louis can’t wait until he gets home to get this over with.

“Hey Lou,” Nathan answers cheerfully, probably meaning either his secretary or his boss is around.

“Hey Nate, guess what? I found someone to tutor me.” Louis feels like a weight lifts off his chest as soon as he spits it out.

“And you called me up at work just to annoy me with that?”

Louis falters a bit, almost running down a group of students trying to walk into the cafeteria. He whispers an apology and moves out of the way, leaning against one of the walls and waiting for Zayn to show up so they can get lunch.

“He and I will be studying on Tuesdays at lunch.” Louis tells Nathan, not even acknowledging his rudeness.

“He?” Nathan’s voice goes dangerously low and sends shivers down Louis’ spine. “You know we can only get lunch together Mondays and Tuesdays, I can’t just keep taking days off for you. I have things to do, Louis, I’m the one making the money here.”

There it is again, the money situation. It’s not like Louis is stupid, he knows that without Nathan working they wouldn’t be able to afford anything they have, but he hates when Louis tries to guilt him for it. Nathan is the one who asked-demanded, really-that Louis quit his job working in the office of the uni that he’d had since freshman year, he’s the one who’s told Louis numerous times not to worry about doing anything after university because he can make enough for both of them.

“I know you can’t, I don’t expect you to,” Louis says, trying to keep his bitter tone to himself. “Nathan I need to pass this class. I thought maybe I could make up for it by staying home to paint on the weekends instead of going back into the school studio.”

Nathan scoffs on the other line and Louis can just see his condescending grin. “If you think I’m letting you out of the flat on a weekend again after what you did last week, you have lost your mind.”

“Louis!” Louis snaps his head up and his eyes widen when he sees Zayn walking over, opening his mouth to shout again. Louis shakes his head quickly and backs up further putting his hand over the phone in the vain hope Nathan won’t hear.

“Was that Zayn?” Nathan’s voice is tense and Louis wants to cry.

As soon as Zayn comes to a full stop, Louis lunges forward and covers his mouth before he can say anything else. “Not it’s my professor. I have to go, he’s helping me out over lunch. We can talk about this later, right?”

The sigh Nathan lets out makes it sound as though continuing the conversation would be physically painful. “Fine. Don’t eat anything too fattening for lunch, you had a big dinner last night.” Zayn hears this and his eyes go a terrifyingly dark shade that reminds Louis of Nathan’s, actually.

“I know babe, I’m really trying I promise. I love you.”

“I’ll see you at home.” Nathan hangs up.

As soon as Louis pulls his hand away from Zayn’s mouth, he lets out a low growl. “It is him putting you on this stupid diet, isn’t it?” he sneers. “Call him back, right now. Let me talk to that fucker-”

“Zayn!”

Zayn makes a grab for Louis’ phone but Louis somehow manages to evade him. “You can’t let him talk to you like that! Louis, you aren’t fat, you’re perfect. You’re beautiful.”

Louis shakes his head and slips his phone into his pocket, safe from Zayn’s hands. “It’s just a diet.” He murmurs.

Zayn frowns, but leaves it, deciding to move on to his next prying topic. “Is he trying to keep you away from me? Is that why you had to lie to him?”

“He just…he still thinks you want to be with me and he’s jealous. He got so mad Saturday night, Z, I don’t want to make him any angrier right now.”

Zayn’s eyes soften. “What happened, babe? Did he yell at you?”

Louis shrugs and plays with the end of his scarf in lieu of meeting Zayn’s eyes again. “Yeah, it was nothing, you know how Nathan gets. I’m fine.”

Zayn knows that Nathan yells a lot, he’s always known, and that’s part of the reason he never liked Nathan. He thinks that all Nathan does is yell though, and Louis has spent the last year of his life making sure that’s all Zayn knows. Even when the two were still living together, Louis always found ways to hide the bruises Nathan gave him whenever they were together.

“Oh, Lou,” Zayn reaches out for Louis and sucks in a breath when Louis flinches away on instinct. “Louis-”

“I’m fine. Can we go eat, please?”

For a moment, Louis prays Zayn will let it go, but he doesn’t. Instead he shakes his head and crosses his arms. “Lou, please we have to talk about this.”

Trying for a smile, Louis ends up giving his best friend a watery impression of one. “There isn’t anything to talk about.”

…

Harry ends up on the second floor far too early, and he knows that, but it isn’t exactly like he had much choice in the mater. Niall had kicked him out of the dorm for pacing around restlessly and instead of stopping to get lunch or something equally as rational, he walked himself up to where the art studios are.

It takes him a little while to find the “small” one as Louis described it, but when he does he can hardly convince himself to go in. There’s nothing to be afraid of, of course, Louis’s the one who invited him here, but still. He feels as though at any moment Louis will pop out and shoo him away.

Still feeling hesitant, Harry peeks his head into the studio, and smiles. Louis stands right in the middle of the bright, airy room, staring at a canvas which bares nothing but a large splatter of red paint. He looks tiny, Harry thinks, dwarfed by the floor to ceiling windows and multitude of tall, half painted canvases spread throughout the room.

Louis taps his foot against the floor a few times, before sighing and letting his shoulders slump. “I’m having a bit of a creative block, Harry, I’m not sure if there’s any helping me today.” His voice echoes in the room and Harry jumps in surprise, confused as to how Louis knew he was there. As if sensing this as well, Louis turns around and grins at the younger boy proudly.

“I don’t like being snuck up on.”

“What is it you’re painting?”

Louis turns back to the canvas and drops his hands against his thighs in defeat. “Love.”

Harry walks carefully to the middle of the studio, stepping over half-finished art pieces. He feels so out of place in the midst of all this color, not to mention the fact that he has on a pair of trainers while Louis has his trousers folded up to show his bare little ankles and equally tiny feet.

“Love.” Harry repeats. He tilts his head slightly, trying to see something, but all he comes up with is that is most definitely a red paint splatter.

Louis laughs, covering his mouth with his hand and showing off the red paint on his tan skin and in the beds of his nails. Harry wonders briefly if Louis is always covered in paint of some sort.

“It’s nothing much, yeah? I got frustrated and dumped some paint there, hoping it would help. Might just leave it like this, show my professor right for giving me this shitty assignment.”

“What’s the assignment?”

Louis groans. “I’m supposed to be expanding my horizons,” he says, with an obvious note of disdain. “My professor wants me to do something different than what I’ve always done so I’ve decided to do a piece with three emotions; Love, Anger, and Desire. It’s technically my final but it’ll be my main project for the rest of the class this semester.”

Humming under his breath, Harry looks around the room and tries to spot what else Louis could have painted. “What is it you normally paint, then?” He asks, turning back to the other boy with a smile. “When you aren’t expanding your horizons, of course.”

“People mostly.”

“Why not paint a person, then?” Harry asks. “Someone that you love?”

Louis visibly falters, before shaking his head a few times. “Could get myself into trouble that way.”

Harry wants to ask what he means by that cryptic answer, but Louis is already halfway across the room, moving quick on his barefeet. He comes to a stop at one of the desks built into the wall, the messiest one Harry notices, and grabs a beaten leather backpack from on top of it.

“I tried to start the essay due next Wednesday, I just thought maybe you could look it over and tell me if it makes any sense, or if I’m completely hopeless.” Louis shoots Harry a smile and pulls a laptop and cellphone from his backpack.

With one last glance at the messy canvas, Harry joins Louis at the desk. While he fiddles with his laptop, Harry inspects the desk, eyes flitting over half-finished sketches in pencil and charcoal, some stained with paint swatches. When he notices Louis’ beautiful bright blue eyes watching him, he blushes.

“M’sorry,” Harry mutters, taking a half-step back from the desk. “You’re just…you’re very good.”

Louis looks surprised at this, as if he’s never gotten a compliment before, which Harry is sure he must have. His sketches are beautiful and almost scarily realistic, and if they’re anything to go by, Louis’ paintings must be even more amazing.

“Oh. Thank you Harry.” Louis smiles to himself and piles most of his sketches up to make room for Harry to at least lean his elbows down without smudging anything.

“It’s complete shit, prepare yourself.” He warns, motioning for Harry to go ahead and take the laptop. Harry smirks and starts reading while Louis opens a distressed sketchbook from his desk and starts sketching furiously. The two of them work in silence until Harry clears his throat, unable to keep going.

“Louis, you do know this story isn’t actually about ugly wallpaper, right?”

To his credit, Louis doesn’t even glance up from his paper, just tilts pencil slightly and shades whatever it is he’s hiding with his hands. “Is it not?” he asks, his voice flippant. “It is called The Yellow Wallpaper, Harry.”

Harry marvels at how he can simultaneously want to laugh out loud and kiss Louis senseless just for that comment. Instead, he clears his throat once more and fixes his fringe-his worst habits- and quotes; “If the narrator doesn’t like her wallpaper, I think she should just take it down. It’s obviously stained and ripped, she says so numerous times, so I think it’s probably beyond saving. Maybe a nice, warm color. Yellow is so harsh for a bedroom, don’t you think?”

Louis looks up and grins. “I’m particularly proud of that part,” he announces. “I used the word numerous and everything.” In an incredibly cute manner, Louis sweeps his fringe out of his eyes and secures it up so Harry can see the way they crinkle with his amusement.

It’s impossible to contain his laughter this time but Harry manages to at least keep it subdued. “Yes, well, as much as I’m sure our professor would love your debate on wallpaper versus neutral colors, I think you may have missed some of the symbolism.”

“Symbolism,” Louis makes a fake gagging noise at this. “Why can’t writers just say what they mean?”

“Speaking from experience, symbolism makes us seem much more deep and thoughtful than we actually are.”

Louis laughs loudly, his hand doing almost nothing to quiet it. He scoots his chair closer to Harry’s-only after flipping his sketchbook shut so Harry couldn’t catch a peek-and politely asks the younger lad to explain the reading.

While he explains, he studies. It’s a subconscious action by now, picking out those little traits about people not even they seem to notice. He sees how tiny Louis’ wrists are, how he fidgets with his hands and the sleeves of his sweater almost restlessly, the way he seems to sink uncomfortably into his too-large jumper whenever Harry asks him a question. Harry believes he could write an entire book on how lovely and tragically breakable this boy is and still not feel as though he’s captured any of Louis’ beauty accurately.

There’s just something about Louis, something that draws you in and begs you to notice, to pay attention. Maybe it’s his soft, sweet voice, or maybe his eye crinkling smile, or maybe even just the way he carries himself like he’s somehow incredibly sure of himself and incredibly self-conscious all at once. He shines though, Harry notices. Louis shines like the sun in the small studio.

“She leaves him but everybody is going to think she’s insane.” Louis interrupts near the end of the synopsis.

Harry halts mid-sentence, and frowns. “Well, she has sort of lost her mind. Obviously it’s more about feminism and the-”

“No,” Louis shakes his head. “No, he’s a psychiatrist, yeah? Who’s ever going to believe her word against his?” He looks as though he might add something else to this, when his phone starts ringing.

Louis snatches it up startlingly quickly and answers before the ringtone even has time to make its first cycle. He slips out of the chair and as he walks away, Harry can hear him murmuring, “Hey baby.”

Harry sinks down in his own chair and tries not to let himself be too disappointed that it’s Louis’ boyfriend calling. To distract himself, he decides to google the SparkNotes version of the reading, just in case Louis needs anymore help.

“Nathan, can this please wait until I get home?” Louis’ sharp whisper cuts into the silence like a knife. “No, he isn’t…Nate, no! Just stop, please. I have to go now. I love you.” With that he hangs up and Harry goes back to his googling, trying not to look like he was eavesdropping.

“I’m sorry-” Louis starts, but he’s quickly interrupted by Harry’s hasty reply.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. That’s your boyfriend, yeah?”

Louis flushes and shrugs his thin shoulders. “Yeah, that’s my Nathan.”

Harry nods, unsure of what to say. He thinks of maybe going with something along the lines of he sounds nice, but the first adjective that comes to mind to describe Nathan at this point would beloud. Luckily, Harry doesn’t have to stumble through anything because Louis is hunched back over his notebook again and asking him to sit still.

“What’re you doing?”

“Finishing up.” Is all he says, so Harry does as he’s told.

Not even three minutes later there’s a soft ripping sound and Louis is pushing over a piece of the heavy art paper. Harry’s breath catches in his throat when he looks down and sees what Louis’s drawn.

It’s him, hands held delicately over the computer keys, one dimple poked in and his profile perfectly shaded and uncanny. His hair looks a bit insane, puffed up in unruly curls, and one of his hands is tangled in it in an obvious attempt to push his fringe back. And it’s just him to a T, Harry thinks.

“Oh…Louis. This is-”

“I’m not good with words,” Louis interrupts. “I get confused a lot and my brain goes too fast to catch anything sometimes. Half the time I can’t even get out what I want to say because I just don’t knowhow to even put it in words, but I can do this. I can show someone exactly how I see them, how I see the world, without using those big words or descriptive language and I don’t think that makes me stupid. I think maybe other people think I’m stupid, but I just think I’m a bit different, granted maybe a bit strange, but I don’t…I don’t feel stupid. So, please don’t think I am just because I sometimes don’t understand your metaphors or your symbolism and all those other words I never paid any mind to.”

Harry can’t say anything for a while because his chest aches for this boy. This beautiful boy, with his paint stained hands and his lead smudged thumbs, who just wants to be understood so badly, and Harry just wants to understand him too.

“I don’t think you’re stupid,” Harry says, after a probably too long stretch of time. “I think you’re absolutely brilliant. This is amazing, Louis, can I keep it?”

Louis bites his lip, a blush creeping up over his cheeks. He looks down at his hands on the table, blue eyes shaded by his ridiculous eyelashes, and nods. “Of course. It’s all yours, Harry.”

…

Louis keeps sketching Harry and it’s starting to become problematic. It’s been three weeks since the curly haired boy quite literally stumbled into Louis’ life and everyday Louis falls just a little bit more for him in turn. He has to keep the sketches-and now paintings, even-hidden at his desk at school, and even that still worries him. Not that anyone would ever go through his desk, Louis’ claimed it day one of freshman year and it’s well known and not to be trifled with, but there’s still the lingering worry that someone might see how fond Louis has become of Harry.

And that’s all. Just fond.

“Lou.”

“Hmm?” Louis looks up from his dinner menu and tilts his head at Nathan. He must’ve wandered off into his thoughts again of green eyes and dark curls.

Nathan gestures towards the menu. “Salad, maybe?”

Louis wants to cry and scream because no, he doesn’t want a salad. He wants a hamburger, or pasta, or anything that would fill the empty growling in his stomach that’s been going on for weeks. “Of course, love.” Is what he says instead, putting his menu down and watching Nathan look over his own. He’ll probably get something huge, like a steak the size of his head or an entire rack of ribs, just to rub in how fat Louis is.

“What’re you thinking about over there, lovely?” Nathan asks, his tone playful.

Louis shrugs and quickly thinks of something else to say other than what he’s thinking. “Daisy and Phoebe’s birthday is coming up in a few days, I should buy them a card.” He blurts out.

“Daisy and Phoebe?”

Louis hesitates, praying that Nathan is kidding. “My sisters. My sisters Daisy and Phoebe.”

Nathan makes a noise of understanding, though he probably still has no clue that Louis is talking about, and shrugs. “I don’t think you need to. What has your family ever done for you anyway, Lou?” he says, not even looking up from his menu. “Nothing really, nothing compared to what I’ve done for you.”

Louis hasn’t spoken to his mother or sisters in almost two months and it kills him each and every time he has to ignore a call or a text message. He remembers back to the fight that ended his communication with his family all together, and sighs. Nathan had almost crushed his forearm, Louis was sure of it, while he berated his younger boyfriend about wanting to go home and visit his mum while she had a cold to help her take care of his sisters.

“They’re trying to take you from me!” he had shouted in Louis’ face. “Your mother never liked me and now she’s trying to get you to leave me! You aren’t going Louis, and that is final. If I ever catch you speaking to a single one of them again I’ll take the matter into my own hands.”

Louis had wanted to yell back that Nathan quite literally had the matter in his own hands, when he realized he probably meant hurting Louis’ mother or maybe even his sisters. So Louis simply nodded, apologized, and never answered any of his mother’s phone calls.

“How’s work?” Louis croaks out. While he listens to Nathan prattle on, he ignores his persistently growling stomach and his heart crying out for his mum.

…

When Harry meets Nathan it’s completely by accident. He’s dancing with some guy he doesn’t know when Niall shouts over the music of the club and brushes a hand over Harry’s. “S’that Louis? From English?” He uses his eyes to point towards the other side of the club.

Harry spins around immediately, grabbing a hold of Niall when he almost loses his balance. Sure enough, there’s Louis dancing with someone much taller than him and just bigger in general. He’s cute enough, Harry’s drunken brain figures, and when he leans down and captures Louis’ lips in his own, Harry realizes it must be Nathan.

“M’gonna go say hi!” Harry announces to most everyone around him. Both Niall and Liam laugh and nod, and let Harry weed his way through the other bodies towards Louis and his boyfriend. “Louis!”

Louis’ head snaps up and he looks around until he finally spots Harry. For a split second, he grins back, and then Nathan brings his head up and Louis’ eyes turn a scared, clouded blue. Harry hardly notices though, and walks the rest of the way over, stopping in front of the couple and grinning a thousand watt smile.

“Harry, what are you doing here?” Louis asks.

Nathan’s cold dark eyes snap to Harry’s and he frowns. “This is Harry?” His voice is the complete opposite of Louis’, not sugary sweet kind and gentle, but dark and cold and calculating. Scary like a cheesy movie villain, Harry thinks.

“Yeah, Harry this is my boyfriend Nathan,” Louis says, biting his lip and looking between the two. “Nate, love, this is Harry He’s the one tutoring me, remember?”

Dark, dark eyes rake over Harry coldly. “Are you one of Zayn’s little boyfriends, then?”

Harry frowns and opens his mouth to slur out whatever his tipsy mind deems fit, but Louis beats him to it. “No, babe, Harry’s straight. Aren’t you, Haz?” His lie is punctuated by a sharp, fake sounding laugh.

“I uh…” Harry trails off, unsure of what to say. Louis’s silently pleading with him, his lip quivering and his eyes going glassy as though he might cry, so Harry nods. “Yeah, very straight. Zayn’s fit though, I think…probably.” He tacks on what he hopes is a convincing grin, but judging by Louis’ expression, it isn’t.

Nathan, however, doesn’t seem to notice. He rolls his eyes and grunts a bit. “Fucking paki is what he is, you should see his family-”

“Nate, please.” Louis whispers, sounding horrified.

The awkward silence that falls is really anything but, what with the loud booming music coming in from the speakers, but it is definitely awkward. Harry is about five seconds away from drunkenly soft shoeing his way out of the situation when Nathan speaks up again.

“I’m getting drinks, do you want something Harry?”

“Oh, no. M’good, thanks.”

Nathan nods and turns back to Louis, giving him a serious look and brushing a finger over Louis’ sharp jawline. “You behave yourself.” His voice is so stern that Harry realizes he isn’t kidding, he’s just given an actual order. An order that Louis agrees to, apparently, because he nods his head back diligently. Nathan gives him a sly smile and kisses Louis full on the mouth, before disappearing off to the bar.

Louis looks from Nathan’s retreating figure, to Harry, until his boyfriend is decidedly out of earshot. “I’m sorry about him,” he says, shouting just a bit to be heard over the pounding bass. “He just gets jealous very easily. Trust me, it’s better this way.”

Harry doesn’t know what to say. It’s odd actually, because he’s usually full to the brim with opinions and stanzas, but right now he’s drawn a blank. On one hand, he wants to walk away and pretend this never happened, maybe push it back with the rest of his semi-drunken experiences like the time Niall dared him to streak across their high school football field.

But on the other hand there is this overwhelming urge to scoop Louis up and get him away from Nathan. Maybe if he can just get the older man away from his boyfriend’s harshness he can ask what’s really going on here, if Louis’s actually happy being told what to do and having to be careful of his friends. There are boundaries though, boundaries that that would definitely be crossing.

“I’ll see you on Tuesday?” Louis’ interrupts Harry’s train of thought by slowly stepping back.

“Yeah um…Tuesday. Have a good night,” Harry says, and then as an afterthought; “Sweet dreams, Louis.”

Louis smiles sadly at that and turns around, his tiny frame swallowed up by the blur of dancing bodies and Nathan’s rough hands.

…

There is nothing more frustrating in Louis’ eyes than to be unable to finish a painting.

Usually he can crank one out pretty quickly, but not when it comes to his final project. He’s still made absolutely no progress on Love and has instead decided to move onto Anger at the advice of his professor. He’s propped over it now, having laid the canvas on the floor to make it easier on his weak bruised legs.

Louis’s quite proud of this one because even though it’s only a few mottled colors it looks angry. Its water paint, something he doesn’t normally use as oil is his favorite medium, but it portrays the dark muddled colors better than oil could. Sighing a bit, he sits back on his crossed legs and swipes his hair away from his face.

“Hello Harry.” He calls when he hears the door creak open and Harry’s soft boots shushing across the linoleum.

“Hey Lou,” Harry yells back in his usually jovial tone. “I brought you your coffee.”

Louis can’t help the dopey smile on his face but he can at least try to hide it by leaning back over the portrait, bringing a paintbrush up to brush at the middle of the painting where it turns darkest.

Harry sits down as well, always so careful of the work that Louis tends to leave laying around much to the chagrin of everyone else in the art department. Louis pulls back and takes his coffee from Harry-black with just enough milk and sugar to make it bearable-that Harry has sat next to his sickeningly sweet latte.

“Thank you, love.”

Like always, Harry avoids Louis’ eyes and blushes furiously at the endearment. He turns to stare down at Louis’ painting instead. “I thought you weren’t drawing a person for these?”

“It’s not a person, Haz, it’s-” Louis turns back and sucks in a breath when he sees the painting and the definite outline of a face there. Maybe Harry doesn’t recognize it-it’s quite vague and the watercolor edges blur it a bit-but that is definitely Nathan.

“Shit.”

Harry chuckles softly and reaches over to pat Louis’ thigh gently. “Old habits die hard.” If he notices the way Louis instinctively flinches away from his touch, he doesn’t mention it.

Louis groans in frustration pushes the canvas away roughly. “I’m never finishing this, I know it.”

“Hey,” Harry admonishes. “Don’t ruin it, it’s beautiful. Here.” He gets up and takes the canvas away from Louis’ angry grasps, moving it to lean against the older boy’s desk to dry.

Louis sips at his coffee angrily. Nothing he ever does is right, even things he’s supposed to be good at he still manages to fuck up. It’s really no wonder why Nathan practically broke his wrist last night after he spilled paint across the floor moving it from his backpack to his studio. Louis quite literally can’t do anything right.

That doesn’t seem to click for Harry though who always smiles and always jokes even when Louis does something dumb like accidentally tripping and falling up the steps last week and bringing Harry down with him. Now he sits in front of Louis, still smiling at him.

“Don’t be frustrated, alright? If you don’t like it you can keep trying and I know for sure you’ll get something perfect.”

Louis is in the mood to be grumpy though, so he scoffs. “How do you know that?”

The green-eyed boy’s smile doesn’t even waver. “Because if you can make even me look beautiful, you can do anything.”

“You’re already beautiful you dolt,” Louis mutters back, but he still blushes a bit like he always does when Harry gives him a compliment. “Now help me up and explain that horrible poetry to me.”

Harry hauls Louis up to his feet gently, so unlike how Nathan would, and lets their hands linger on one another for just a fraction of a second too long. They make it to Louis’ messy desk and between coffee and a latte, Harry tries to slowly and carefully explain the poem they were given earlier in the day for homework.

They’re about halfway through it when there’s the unmistakable sound of Zayn crashing into the studio, announcing his presence by swearing and tripping over a blank canvas, almost punching his foot through it. To his credit, Harry doesn’t laugh like Louis does, but he does stare with eyes as wide as saucers.

After regaining his balance with minimal injury, Zayn starts to walk over. He waves the large manila envelope he’s holding in the air and grins. “Babe, I finished the draft to send to the editor and-oh. I’m sorry,” Zayn’s smile turns predatorial when he spots Harry at Louis’ side. “I didn’t realize you had a gorgeous visitor.”

Harry doesn’t miss a beat. “Hi, I’m Harry. I’m helping Louis out in English.”

“Oh are you,” Zayn chuckles, striding the rest of the way over. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around before, Harry…”

“Styles.”

“Harry Styles,” Zayn’s voice drops into a seductive drawl. “I like it. I’m Zayn Malik.”

Louis knows the look in his best friend’s eyes all too well. There’s a strange feeling rising in his chest to go along with it and he almost cries when he realizes it’s possessiveness. Harry is his, not Zayn’s, and he does not like the way Zayn is giving Harry that slow once over, letting his liquid gold eyes trail down Harry’s legs.

“Zayn, leave Harry alone.” Louis says, attempting to joke around.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I get it, he’s your attractive freshmeat to show around.” And Zayn does stop, but only to lean over to kiss Louis on the cheek and drop the heavy envelope down on the table.

Zayn’s been working on the manuscript for ages now, ever since they graduated high school, actually. Louis’s been allowed to read the first few drafts and the passages Zayn deemed “trash” and he always knew it would turn into something great. Now with an editor and a book deal, it’s pretty much set. Soon they’ll be seeing Zayn Malik on the New York Time’s Bestseller List, Louis just knows it.

“How many words?” Louis asks, leaning his head back on Zayn’s stomach and letting Zayn run his fingers through his hair. He opens the envelope and pulls out the first few pages.

“Just around 200,000.”

Louis tilts his head up and grins. “I am so proud of you, you know.”

Zayn’s lip quivers and he curses under his breath before leaning down and kissing Louis’ forehead softly. “I hope you like it, I worked really hard. It’s dedicated to you.”

“To me?” Louis laughs. He pulls out the dedication page and laughs even louder when he sees the passage there. To Louis, my better half, for listening to me cry and never letting me give up.

Suddenly Louis is out of his chair and hugging Zayn as close as he can without hurting his bruises too badly. He buries his head into Zayn’s neck and breathes out softly. “You’re becoming a grownup without me.” Louis whispers, closing his eyes and trying not to let his own words get to him.

Zayn chuckles and holds Louis back just as tightly. “Says the one who’s practically married.”

A hiccupping sob rises in his throat and he holds it back by shaking his head. “I love you.” Louis whimpers.

He’s always afraid one day it’ll be the last time. He sometimes has nightmares where he and Zayn have a fight, he returns home, and Nathan finally does it. Nathan finally goes too far and Louis never gets to say goodbye, never gets to tell his best friend I love you again.

“I love you too,” Zayn whispers back and Louis lets out a sigh of relief. They both pull back and Zayn chuckles a bit, wiping the tears on Louis’ cheeks away and not questioning them. “You better read it fast, I have no patience.”

With another quick kiss to the cheek, Louis sits back down. “I drew you last night, babe, here take it.” He sorts through the sketches on his desk until he reaches the one of Zayn sleeping like he used to when they lived together, stretched out across their ratty yet comfortable couch, a pencil held lazily in his hand, and notebook papers stuck to one side of his face and scattered around him.

“So Nathan doesn’t see?” Zayn asks. His teasing tone has a definite edge to it that makes Louis’ cringe.

“No, because I don’t want your ugly mug around while I’m trying to be productive.”

Zayn takes the page with a small smile and puts it carefully in his bag. He doesn’t ask why Louis drew him like he would have looked almost a year ago now, so Louis doesn’t have to lie about that. He drew Zayn last night, ignoring the soreness of his wrist, because that’s where he wanted to be.

Not in his “home” with Nathan, who yells and hurts, but back with Zayn in their old flat with their late nights writing, painting, drinking, and laughing. Louis misses that more and more every day, each and every time Nathan calls him a name or slaps or kicks him. He just wants to go home.

“So what are we teaching?” Zayn changes the subject back to Harry whom Louis had almost forgotten was in the room. Louis settles back against Zayn’s stomach and listens to the two of them talk drafts and book deals while Zayn’s fingers card through his hair.

Louis’ eyes are falling closed when there’s a sudden sharp pain under Zayn’s finger and he cries out, jerking away on instinct. A few tears slip free that he tries not to show, but there’s no hiding how badly that hurt.

“Lou, what is it?” Zayn asks, stricken.

“I hit my head, you pressed on it.” Louis mumbles, holding the bump at the top of his head protectively. There’s a small, painful goose egg there from where Nathan quite literally hit his head off the headboard a few nights ago and knocked him out for a few minutes at least.

Zayn moves towards it but Louis quickly pulls away. “Lou, what happened? When did you hit it?”

“Two days ago,” Louis mutters. “I was half asleep and ran into the doorway one night. I’m an idiot.”

Harry frowns, his green eyes clouded with doubt. “On the top of your head?”

“It’s more to the side.” Louis mumbles. Harry doesn’t know better of course, so he just sits back a bit in his chair, but keeps frowning.

Zayn looks like he’s about say something else when the door to the studio swings. All three of them look up and Louis’ whimpers. Nathan stands there, taking up almost the entire door frame with his burly arms crossed over his chest. He’s already frowning but it deepens when he sees Zayn and Harry.

“Louis.”

“Hi baby,” Louis tries to keep his tone light but his head still hurts like hell. “What are you doing here?

Nathan walks across the room, kicking a few pieces out of his way carelessly and stopping in the middle of the room. “We’re getting lunch.” He says simply.

Louis’ eyes widen and he racks his brain but comes up with no memory of this. “A-Are we?” he asks, his voice obviously scared. “You never said-”

“Yes, well I’m saying it now. Let’s go Louis, get your things, you probably won’t be back in time for your last class.” Nathan commands.

Louis nods and dutifully collects everything he needs, making sure to hid Zayn’s book in his bag. Both Harry and Zayn watch on in sheer disbelief as his shaking hands collect some of his sketches and his laptop. Louis wonders at what point he began just doing anything Nathan asked of him without question.

Once he’s as packed up as he can be, Louis squeezes Harry’s hand softly. “Thank you, I’ll see you tomorrow in class, yeah?”

Something passes over Harry’s features and he looks like he has something he wants to say, but he just nods instead. “Yeah, tomorrow. Don’t forget the readings, the class will make more sense that way.”

Louis gives him a thankful smile and tries to pass by Zayn without incident, which doesn’t happen of course.

“Mind if I join?” Zayn asks, his hand wrapping around Louis’ waist. “I haven’t spoken into Lou in a while, you keep him very busy.”

“Yes, well, he is my boyfriend.” Nathan’s eyes narrow and Louis’ stomach churns, knowing what this means for him once they’re alone.

Of course Zayn has no clue and Louis can’t tell him to stop, so he keeps egging Nathan on. “Is he? I hadn’t noticed.”

For a moment it’s silent, and then Nathan’s cold eyes are staring straight into Louis’ and the younger boy is practically scrambling to get away from his best friend and into Nathan’s bruising grip. Zayn’s expression can only be described as betrayed and it hurts Louis’ heart to see it but he can’t go back now. He just can’t.

“I’ll talk to you later, Z, alright?”

“Lou-”

“He said later,” Nathan interrupts as he tightens his grip on Louis’ arm. “Though I wouldn’t count on that. Have a nice day, Zayn.” And with that, he pulls Louis away from the two stunned boys, all while Louis throws back apologetic smiles.

…

Harry writes furiously about the way Nathan holds Louis’ forearm in a grip like a python and how Louis’ face screwed up in thinly veiled pain. He’s never been so angry at someone before, not this sort of angry, with no way of knowing if what he thinks is true is true and no way to remedy the problem. He stops mid-stanza and looks up to see Niall and Liam leaning against one another and chuckling over a movie they’re playing on Niall’s laptop.

“Hey, Ni can I ask you a question?” Niall looks up over Liam’s head and nods. Liam pauses the movie and they then both turn to look at Harry expectantly. “How often do you get jealous? I mean like, when you see other guys with Liam.”

Niall snorts softly, and shrugs. “What’s there to be jealous of? I trust Li, I know he isn’t going to cheat on me.” To punctuate his words he turns to smile down at Liam and kiss him softly.

“And Liam?” Harry asks, once they’ve pulled away.

“Same answer,” Liam smiles. “I know my Nialler. I mean, I get mad sometimes when we go out and people force themselves on him, but that’s different…right?” He looks up to Niall for reassurance and gets it in the form a fond hair ruffle.

“Definitely. Same goes.” Niall agrees.

Harry frowns and looks down at his fingers, just thinking to himself for a moment. All couples are different, he knows that, and he’s almost entirely sure Louis and Nathan haven’t been dating as long as Niall and Liam, so maybe things change as you grow closer? But still, Harry knows he did not like how Nathan treated Louis as soon as he walked in the door and he knows that cannot be normal behavior around your boyfriend’s best friend.

“But-Liam, if you thought I really, really liked Niall, would you try to keep us apart?” Harry blurts out.

Liam raises his eyebrows and laughs a bit. “Well, no. Niall’s old enough to pick his own friends, I figure,” and then after some more laughter adds, “Why, are you trying to tell me you like Niall?”

Niall bursts into loud laughter along with Liam while Harry sputters and shakes his head about a million times. “No! Oh god, no that’s gross! Not that you’re gross Niall, but you’re just…you’re Niall!”

Both boys continue to laugh and watch on amused as Harry just gives up trying and flops back onto the bed. And then he’s right back on his feet because he needs to talk to Louis. It’s Friday around noon and he isn’t sure if Louis will even be in the studio, but he hopes so. They hadn’t spoken a word to each other in class on Wednesday so he figures it’ll be awkward, but he can’t shake this overwhelming worry.

At first the studio appears empty, but then Harry hears the muffled crying and soon spots Louis, slumped over his desk with his shoulder’s heaving. The soft sobs echo through the room until the sound of Harry’s shoes against the polished floor replaces it.

Louis jolts up. “I’ll be out in a minute, I’m sorry-oh,” Louis turns around and wipes at his eyes quickly. “Oh, Harry. Hi, love.”

Usually Harry would stop whatever he was doing to smile and preen under the pet name Louis’ loves to call him by, but not today. “Louis, what’s wrong? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine I just-I had a fight with Nathan and I ran off and now I…I should go, really,” he nods a bit to himself and stands up, stumbling a bit. “I need to apologize, I should go.”

Harry strides over as soon as he sees Louis stumbling and catches him by his elbow. “Hey, hey, calm down alright? You’re okay.”

“M’just dizzy,” Louis murmurs, pulling away slightly. “Haven’t eaten.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, suddenly thinking back to weeks before when Louis was complaining to Zayn in the cafeteria. He can’t really still be on a diet, can he? “How long has it been?” He asks, almost scared of the answer.

Louis shrugs and stands all the way up again, straightening himself slowly. “Just today.” Harry can tell it’s a lie by the way he sways when he reaches for his bag.

“You know, we never actually went out for that coffee you promised me.”

To Harry’s surprise, Louis laughs, and it may just be because it’s too quick or because he’s too weak, but he doesn’t try to stifle it. And it’s beautiful.

“Haz, you and I have bought coffee for one another about a million times since then.”

Harry simply shrugs and loops his arm through Louis’, still scared he might fall over and hurt himself. “Well now we’re going out for lunch, my treat. You can tell me what’s going on with Nathan too, maybe I can help.”

“No offense Harry, but probably not,” Louis hip checks him as best he can without passing out. “But lunch for sure.”

Knowing that it’s probably a miracle to even get Louis to agree to lunch, Harry leaves it and instead focuses on walking out of school. Louis is fine now to walk on his own but Harry can’t bring himself to pull away and Louis makes no move to let go either. They stay linked like that the entire walk from campus to the local coffee shop where Harry usually picks coffee up for Louis on Tuesdays. Louis tries to protest when Harry finds a table and has him sit, but Harry will hear none of it.

When he returns with the sandwiches and drinks he’s bought, he finds Louis with his notebook out and sketching. He makes sure to set everything down carefully so as not to disturb Louis, and sits down across him, trying to peek at the sketchbook.

Finally, the not-knowing gets to Harry and he pokes Louis’ moving hand softly with a corner of his sandwich. “What are you drawing?”

“I’m clearing my mind,” Louis explains. “I need to think and everything is jumbled up.”

Harry nods and eats his sandwich thoughtfully for a while, happy when Louis stops drawing long enough to take a few bites of his own sandwich. The only noises are the other customers, the random burst of the milk steamer, and Louis’ pencil shading across the heavy paper. It’s peaceful and Harry thinks he’d be content just to stay like this forever with Louis.

After what seems like hours, Louis looks up and frowns. “Why were you in the studio?”

It’s only then that Harry realizes how insane he probably seems. He knew something was wrong with Louis though, he just knew it, but he has no way of saying that without sounding even stranger. “I was um…I was worried about you.” Is what he compromises on.

Louis’ expression goes blank and when he speaks it sounds distant and confused. “You were worried about me?” Harry nods and Louis frowns. “Why were you worried about me?”

“You were really quiet yesterday and on Tuesday when Nathan showed up…” Harry trails off when he sees the shocked look on Louis’ face, and cringes. “Fuck, I’m sorry I didn’t mean-it’s really none of my business. I’m sorry.” Harry looks down at his latte instead of Louis’ eyes, keeping his hands curled around the cup so they don’t shake.

Louis clears his throat and flicks his pencil across the paper absentmindedly. When Harry gets the courage to glance over, he can see a sketch of Louis himself with his eyes closed, dark lashes just dusting his cheeks which have an odd shading on them, like bruises almost. Louis catches Harry looking and turns the page in the sketchpad, starting on something new.

“Nathan is loud,” he says. “I’m sorry if he scared you.”

“Well, I mean he didn’t scare me-”

“He scares me.” Louis’ voice is hardly above a whisper, like he’s thinking aloud, but Harry still catches it.

There’s a lump in Harry’s throat and he attempts to swallow around by taking a large sip of his scalding latte. He has to gather up all of his strength and courage to form his reply. “Louis, if Nathan scares you maybe you shouldn’t be with him.”

Louis laughs softly and shakes his head. “Nathan loves me.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s allowed to scare you.” Harry shoots back

“Doesn’t it?” Louis murmurs.

Harry’s about to tell him that no, it doesn’t mean Nathan’s allowed to scare him, when he catches sight of the new sketch. It’s a coffee cup bearing the logo of the coffee shop they’re in with long, nimble fingers wrapped around it. Louis, in an obvious attempt to change the subject, grabs one of Harry’s hands and pulls it out straight, smiling down at it.

“You have callouses,” he observes, the pad of his forefinger running over Harry’s pointer. “See there? A tiny little writer’s bump.”

Harry pulls his eyes away from where he’s admiring Louis’ soft smile, and looks down to his hands. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

“I like them, I think they’re beautiful,” Louis smiles, his tiny fingertips brushing over the hardened edges of Harry’s much longer fingers. “Because you love what you do so much your body shows it.” With that, he lets go of Harry’s fingers and returns to the sketchpad, adding the slightest of imperfections to the drawing.

Harry stares at Louis in disbelief. He’s always so down on himself, always complaining about how horrible he is with trying to put his emotions into words, but then he says something like that. With only a few short sentences, he manages to put Harry into a state of wondrous shock.

“I think I’ll paint this one if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t.”

Louis smirks. “Good, I would have done it anyway.”

They both chuckle a bit, the space between them noticeably less awkward. Louis shuts his sketchpad and starts to actually eat his sandwich, not just nibble at it. He looks beautiful, Harry observes, swaddled in yet another too-large jumper with a red beanie Harry’s never seen him wear before. He catches Harry staring and shoots him a wide grin, complete with lettuce sticking out between his teeth.

“What was it you and Nathan fought about?” Harry asks, feeling bolder.

Louis shrugs and starts to pick the crust of his bread off meticulously. “He found me reading Zayn’s book and got angry,” he explains softly. “Nate took it, ripped it up, threw it away, and I just absolutely lost it. Zayn must have spent a lot of money to print that for me-he has to use the printer at school, he doesn’t have one of his own-and I just…I barely even started it, you know? And I can’t ask him to print another, I can’t-”

“I have a copy,” Harry stops him. “I haven’t started it yet, but it’s here in my bag. Take it, Lou.”

Louis almost drops his sandwich. “You have a copy?”

“Zayn gave it to me when I told him I was interested in the story,” Harry explains as he reaches into his bag to retrieve the manila envelope. “I haven’t started it yet, but here.”

Louis stares down at the envelope Harry’s now set out on the table. Harry can practically see his mind working before he shakes his head. “I can’t, no. Nathan would be so cross with me, Harry. Besides, it’s yours.”

“No, he’s your best friend. If anyone should read it first it should be you,” Harry says, firmly. “And if Nathan is really going to be that angry about it just…just don’t read it at home, or when he’s around? You can hide it from him.”

Once Harry realizes what he’s saying, he realizes that no, this is definitely not a normal relationship. Despite never actually dating someone for more than a few months, Harry never had to hide something from them, and he knows for a fact Liam and Niall tell each other absolutely everything. Also, he’s pretty sure the normal reaction to finding your boyfriend reading his best friend’s manuscript is not to tear it to pieces and make said boyfriend cry.

But again, there are some boundaries Harry cannot yet cross.

Louis bites his lip and finally picks the envelope up, running his fingers over the back of it. “Would you do me a favor?”

“Of course.” Harry says, automatically.

“Hide it for me,” Louis sighs sadly and hands the envelope back. “I’m in the studio every day except for Monday at the normal times, if you could just bring it for me? Then Nathan wouldn’t know and he wouldn’t go looking for it.”

Feeling selfish, Harry can’t help but smile a bit. He’s secretly always wanted to spend more time with Louis than just studying on Tuesdays, and now here’s his excuse. Maybe the older boy wouldn’t mind getting lunch together most days, or even just Harry writing alongside him as he reads. And then, maybe, they can get to know each other even better and Harry can help him.

“Alright, I’ll bring it tomorrow then?”

Louis smiles, his first real smile of the day with eye crinkling to boot, and reaches over to pat softly at Harry’s hand. “Thank you, Haz.”

…

Nathan has been getting more and more violent as winter falls, Louis notices. He wonders if it’s because of the stress from work or if Louis just seems to deserve it more than usual. Either way, if Harry notices that Louis’ wearing cover-up for the next few weeks, he doesn’t mention it and so it’s really not that bad of a problem.

Except sometimes Louis feels as though Nathan’s going to break another bone, or worse, and he worries about how Harry would react. Which is completely stupid, of course, why should he care how Harry would take him being hurt? He shouldn’t.

But he does.

“This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

Not with a bang but a whimper”

Harry has a beautiful reading voice, is the first thing Louis thinks on the chilly November afternoon The next thought is a strange one so he has to share it.

“Harry, I really liked that.”

“You did?” Harry sounds shocked, but pleased. “Lou, you did? Honestly?”

Louis can’t help but laugh at how green his eyes are when he’s excited and how excited he can get over something so dumb. “Yes, surprisingly. It wasn’t ridiculous like everything else we’ve read this semester.”

You would have thought Harry wrote the poem by the way he reacts. He lets out a ridiculous squeal and scoots his chair even closer to Louis’ to hug him. After a moment of hesitance, Louis hugs back. Before Nathan he was actually a very handsy, cuddly person. It’s not that way anymore, unfortunately, but besides Zayn, Louis’ pretty sure Harry is the only other person he enjoys hugging.

“It’s one of my favorites, I knew you’d like it.” Harry declares.

Louis smiles and finally pulls away. “How about you let me read some of your poetry, then?” He teases, ruffling Harry’s curls.

Harry blushes bright red and shakes his head. “No, it’s embarrassing.”

Louis laughs and then leans forward so their noses are practically touching. “Are you writing love poems for me, Harry Styles?”

Harry moans and jerks away, shaking his head repeatedly and resembling a curly haired bobble head. Louis laughs even louder, so loud he has to use both hands to cover it up. When he notices how Harry is frowning at him now, he frowns back.

“What is it?”

“Your laugh is beautiful, Louis.”

There’s a split second where Louis wants to thank him, and smile, but then he remembers Nathan’s words and realizes Harry’s lying. His laugh isn’t beautiful, it’s loud and annoying, and Harry must think it’s hilarious to tease him like that.

They fall into silence, Harry’s grin eventually turning into a sad frown and Louis avoiding looking at it by reading Zayn’s book.

“Did he hear back from his editor yet?” Harry asks a few minutes later.

Louis nods, turning the page he’s on and still not looking up. “Yeah, she’s almost finished and so far she says she loves it. It is really good, of course, because it’s Zayn’s.”

Harry chuckles awkwardly. While he continues to read, Louis can feel Harry’s eyes still on him. He wonders for a moment what the younger boy is looking at and if he finds Louis as disgusting as everyone else does. When the burning at the back of his neck becomes too much to bear, Louis finally looks up.

“What are you doing when you graduate?” Harry seems to be looking for something, anything to say and his grasping at straws has apparently led him here.

Louis shrugs. “I guess…nothing really?” That feels horrible to say so he quickly adds, “I mean, Nathan makes enough to support the both of us as it is and we have a nice flat and-yeah. Nothing.”

Years ago if you had asked Louis what he wanted to do when he grew up his blue eyes would have absolutely sparkled as he described painting for a living. Maybe he could commission his work, maybe get some times in a gallery, and maybe even have his work in a museum one day. That’s changed now. Nathan’s beaten down his spirit as well as his body and Louis just takes it.

“Would that make you happy?”

That question stumps Louis. Would that make him happy? Spending all his days at home alone, waiting for his boyfriend to return home and scold and beat him for nothing? Would Louis be happy to have his work and his pride belittled every day to the point where maybe he won’t even paint anymore, because what’s the point if no one’s going to see it or even want to see it.

Louis knows he isn’t happy with Nathan. He knows it and yet he can’t leave.

“Nathan loves me.”

Harry stares at him for a moment, green eyes so open and honest, so confused. Finally, he shakes his head and looks away. “Yeah, so you’ve said, but that doesn’t mean you’re happy,” he turns back to Louis, fixing him with a curious gaze. “You’d really like that? You’d really be happy to just stay home while he works?”

Now Louis is the one grasping at straws. He has no answer for that question because just as his heart is screaming, No, Harry no I’m not happy please help me it’s drowned out by his brain tutting,You deserve this Louis.

“I don’t know what you think gives you the right to judge me,” Louis growls. “You hardly know me. You don’t know my relationship, Harry, okay? So stop.”

The face Harry makes at this absolutely breaks Louis’ heart. His eyes go a bit wide, and then glassy as if he’s about to cry. Louis says nothing as Harry nods and apologizes and leaves the room.

Louis says nothing as he cries that night and tells Nathan it’s from stress and Nathan suggests they fuck it out.

Louis’s sort of used to saying nothing and it sometimes feels as though there are a million words in his chest screaming to be let out, beating their wings against his ribs like caged butterflies. But Louis’s never been very good with words.

…

Harry goes home to visit his mother that weekend. His mother always knows what to say and always gives him the best advice, and he definitely needs some good advice right now.

Liam and Niall are there for him of course, but it’s different. Harry can’t just go to them and tell them he’s pretty sure he’s in love with Louis and is completely sure he wants to get Louis away from Nathan, they’d look at him as though he’s lost his mind. Maybe he has, Harry thinks, maybe he’s lost every ounce of sense over this beautiful blue eyed boy and maybe he doesn’t care.

Opening the door to his childhood home brings back a thousand different memories and emotions. Harry can remember his first day of school, waving goodbye to his mum and holding tight to Gemma’s hand on the walk there so he wouldn’t get lost. He remembers coming out to both his mother and his sister and how they welcomed it with open arms and I love you’s. Harry can definitely remember sneaking his first boyfriend in through his bedroom window and almost getting caught with his pants down by his mum who just came to ask what the noise was.

There were bad times too of course-like the day his father left and never came back from the business trip, or the time Gemma got so angry with their mother she left for a weekend without a trace and returned to find Harry sobbing himself to sleep in her bed because he was sure she’d left just like their father had-but it’s Harry’s home and he still loves it with the bad and the good.

“Harry!” His mum calls, rushing from the kitchen into the foyer where she wraps her arms around his neck. “Oh I’ve missed you so much.”

Harry smiles and lets her cup his face in her hands and brush down his curls. “I missed you too mum.”

Her hands instantly still in his curls, and she frowns. “What’s wrong, love? Is it a boy?”

Harry laughs, because nothing has changed, and follows his mother into the kitchen for tea. The sit at the table for a bit, filling each other in on their lives since Harry left only a few months back, until they come to the subject of Louis.

His mother holds his hand on the table as he talks quietly about the boy. He tells her everything about Louis from the crinkles by his eyes to his most recent art pieces, and eventually delves into Nathan. He explains as only Harry can the feeling he himself gets around Louis’ boyfriend and the way Louis acts around him as well, all while his mother frowns thoughtfully.

“Mum, I’m just…I’m scared for him,” he admits, “Nathan is so cold to him, and he doesn’t deserve that. Just as his friend I can tell you Louis deserves the world-”

“But as the boy who’s fallen for him, you can tell me you want to be the one to give him it.” Harry’s mother guesses. He blushes furiously at that and she laughs, getting up from the table to refill their tea.

When she returns she’s back to the thoughtful frown. “Harry, I think you need to talk to him but justas a friend. Despite what may be going on, Louis is still in a relationship and you can’t jeopardize that just because you believe you could be better for him,” she waits until he nods to continue talking. “But, to me it sounds…it sounds very serious.”

Harry’s throat goes dry at that. “You don’t-you don’t think Nathan could be…” He trails off, unable to finish that thought. It doesn’t stop the images flooding his mind of course, images of Louis broken and bruised by his ungrateful boyfriend.

It’s not like he hasn’t thought of it before. Not in depth really, but it’s crossed his mind more than a few times that maybe Nathan isn’t being completely gentle with Louis, that maybe when he grabs Louis’ arm he’s squeezing too hard. Harry doesn’t want to think of it though, he doesn’t want to admit that that is a very real possibility.

His mother sighs. “Darling, I don’t know, I’ve never met him. How you’re describing it though, the controlling and everything else, it sounds like Nathan could be hurting him.”

“But Mum-” Harry starts, and then his voice cracks and his eyes begin to water. “Mum how could anyone do that to him? How could anyone h-hurt Louis?”

Before he knows it, he’s in his mother’s arms and she’s making soft lulling noises in his ear. While he heaves heavy, dramatic sobs, she pets his curls and kisses his forehead a few times like she’s been doing since he was a baby.

“All you can do is try, Harry,” she murmurs once his hiccupping crying stops and he can hear her again. “That’s all. Try to make him understand he can talk to you and try to figure out what’s going on. Try to help.”

“I love you Mum.” Is all Harry says.

…

Nathan goes away on a business trip for the weekend and it’s almost like a vacation for Louis. As soon as he’s out the door, Louis calls up Zayn and demands he come over right away with alcohol and weed, and Zayn delivers.

Just a few hours later they’re spread out on the couch, Louis in between Zayn’s legs with his head on the younger boy’s stomach and one arm reached out to grab at the box of pizza they ordered. His mind is hazy and that’s just the way he likes it because he can forget about the pain of the bruises on his back and forget that in a few days Nathan will be back again. Right now it’s just Louis and Zayn like it should be.

“Do ya think Hazza’s kinda hot?” Louis asks.

Zayn chuckles a bit and shrugs. “Yeah, kinda. No wait, yeah. Just yeah.”

“Yeah,” Louis agrees, beaming at his own joke. “God, that kids legs Zayn, have you seen them? They go on forever!”

Underneath him he hears Zayn make a noise of acknowledgment which only spurs Louis on.

“And his lips, Christ, they’re like-like two little pillows. Pillows of red um stuff. I want to sleep on them, and I want to touch them,” he babbles. “And I want to paint him, I want to paint every inch of him Z.

Zayn makes another noise sounding like mhm so Louis turns around, shifting until he’s laying with his stomach pressed to Zayn’s and his chin on Zayn’s ribs. The boy’s asleep it seems, his eyes closed and his breath coming out in soft, sleepy sighs. No, Louis thinks, this will not do.

“Zayn!”

At Louis’ scream, Zayn jolts awake. He lets out his own surprised yelp and then when he realizes Louis has woken him up, starts trying to push the shorter boy off.

“You need to stay awake!” Louis cries, holding fast to Zayn. “We need to talk about this!”

“Talk about what?”

Louis moans loudly and takes Zayn’s face in his hands, pressing on his cheeks until he has fish lips, and then letting go. “About how attractive and tempting Harry Styles is.”

Zayn’s eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously? What about Nathan, I thought he was the one.”

“Let’s not talk about Nathan,” Louis commands. “I want to talk about my sudden desire to lick chocolate syrup off Harry’s cute little bum.”

This sends Zayn into a fit of hysterics. He’s shedding tears by the time Louis regains balance on his stomach, and he keeps repeating the words chocolate syrup over and over again. When he finally calms down, Louis frowns at him and lies down so Zayn’s heartbeat is in his ear.

“He’s just very nice.”

Zayn nods, and then kisses the top of Louis’ head a few times. “You know, you don’t owe Nate shit,” he whispers. “Just because you live with him does not mean you have to stay with him. If you want to break up with that dick and lick chocolate syrup of Harry’s bum, then do it Lou.”

It takes a moment for Louis’ slowed brain to figure out where the wetness on his nose is coming from, but when he realizes he’s crying he goes all out with it. Zayn tugs him up closer and turns so Louis is flat on the couch and Zayn is lying on his side and kissing everywhere on Louis’ face.

“Lou, babe? Oh don’t cry, please,” Zayn mumbles. “Please don’t cry alright? Stop it?”

Louis laughs a bit, and then wraps his arms around Zayn’s neck. “I love you tons, you know that right?” Zayn nods and Louis nods back. “Good. Always know that. Let’s go to sleep.”

“Your bed?”

Louis stops him from getting up with a quick shake of his head. He can’t share that bed with Zayn. He can’t bring the person he loves more than anything to the place where he’s taken apart and ruined by the person he’s supposed to love more than anything. And Zayn, the beautiful boy he is, just nods and let’s Louis cuddle into his neck for his first restful sleep in almost a year.

When Nathan comes home it all comes crashing down like Louis knew it would, but it’s almost worth it when Nathan finds pot on the couch and Louis has the courage to tell him right to his face that Zayn spent a few nights over.

The courage is beaten out of him only minutes later but still, Louis comes back to what Zayn said. He doesn’t owe Nathan shit.

…

 At first Harry thinks Louis has a cold.

His throat is sort of scratchy and he’s holding onto his stomach and Harry even goes so far as to bring him some tea with honey after their English class before they head up to the studio. Louis has Harry fully convinced it’s a cold until his scarf falls and reveals bruises all down his neck in the definite shape of fingers.

Louis doesn’t notice at first because he’s too busy laughing and painting Harry’s hands on his canvas. He does notice, however, when he pulls Harry’s hand back as a reference and Harry doesn’t let him.

“Louis, please don’t tell me those are what I think they are.” Harry chokes out. He wants so badly to reach for the bruises, kiss them better maybe, but he can’t.

Louis looks shocked, before he quickly and expertly fixes his scarf and shakes his head. “It’s nothing Haz, don’t worry about it.” His voice sounds strained though, like he’s trying to keep it in check.

“Nathan put his hands on you.” Is all Harry can think to say, because that’s all he can think about. Big brawny Nathan hurting Louis, delicate Louis with his bird bones and his thin wrists and his tiny ankles that Harry’s almost positive he could wrap his hand around twice. Louis with his candy sweet voice, his feathered hair, his paint covered fingernails, and his laugh Harry wishes he wouldn’t try to stifle. Louis, Harry’s bright brilliant Louis who deserves the world.

Harry’s mother was right and he’s never been so angry about it.

“I’m alright, it was one time.” Louis murmurs, not looking up from his painting.

Listening to him speak, it suddenly hits Harry. He reaches up to push at his eyes with his fingers, bating off tears. “Louis, your voice,” he breathes. “It’s from him isn’t it? He hurt you so badly.”

“Harry, listen to me,” Louis finally sits up all the way and looks Harry straight in the eye. “It was a onetime thing and it’s never going to happen again. Please don’t worry about it, alright?”

That doesn’t convince Harry at all though, because even if Nathan said it was a onetime thing it might not be. He could very well do it again, maybe even do worse.

“Promise me you’ll tell me if he tries something again?” Harry pleads. Louis looks hesitant about it until Harry begs again, crying, “Please, Louis.”

Louis nods curtly and goes back to his painting. He traces the line of Harry’s palms with one hand and outlines it in paint with the other while Harry watches on in awe. When Louis finally releases him, Harry goes straight for his notebook to take down all the emotions swirling around in his head.

“I write about you quite a lot.” Harry says, though he isn’t entirely sure why.

Louis nods as if it was inevitable. “I figured you might.” He murmurs, continuing to paint.

Harry sighs and lets them fall into silence until that’s left is the sound of his pencil scratching against paper and Louis’ low humming. He takes a moment to just study the other boy who’s propped himself up over the canvas again, his back arching slightly as he works, his bottom lip drawn up under his teeth and being chewed on. He looks almost the same as he did the first time Harry met him, but Louis is so much more beautiful now. Now that Harry knows the kind of person Louis is, he seems like so much more than a pretty face.

“You’re very interesting Louis,” Harry mumbles, almost inaudible. “I’m glad I got to know you.”

Louis shrugs somehow without dropping down onto the wet paint. “I’m not very interesting, I don’t think.”

“Of course you are,” Harry says, his lips pulling down at the thought of Louis not realizing that. “Louis, you are incredible. The things you create, your art, and just…you in general. I think you’re incredible.”

 Carefully, Louis sets down his brush and turns to look at Harry. His face is set in a terribly serious scowl that Harry decides right away he doesn’t like. “I want you to understand something Harry,” he starts. “I am no more interesting than you make me out to be in your stories and your poems. You aren’t in love with me, if that’s what you think, you’re in love with the idea of me, some figment you created. If you knew me, if you knew all the horrible and nasty things about me, you’d find yourself a new muse in a heartbeat.”

Harry is stunned. He’s stunned because Louis very rarely speaks so seriously, choosing quietness or joking if he does speak, and he never speaks with such certainty or severity. And he’s never been so wrong, Harry thinks.

“Louis you interesting. I do want to understand you, I want to know every little thing about you, even the things you think are horrible. I see you through your art all the time but I want to see you completely. You’re…you’re just very complex, Louis, and I like it.”

Louis’s chewing at his lip the entire time Harry speaks and by the time Harry finishes, he’s brought his knees up to his chest and has wrapped his arms around them. “I wish you would stop lying to me.” His voice sounds so small and so scared.

“I’m not lying to you-”

“Yes you are,” Louis’ voice breaks and he wipes furiously at the tears slipping down his cheeks. “You’re telling me I’m special, telling me I’m worth something. Harry, I’m not worth the dirt under your shoe.”

“Oh, Lou-” Harry starts, but he’s quickly interrupted with Louis shaking his head.

“Don’t pity me,” he growls. “Don’t fucking pity me, Harry, okay? I don’t want it.’

Harry tries to reach for him but Louis backs up quickly. “Lou, m’not-”

“Yes you are!” Louis chokes on a sob and has to bring his hand up to his mouth to stifle it, just like he would his laugh.

Both boys sit there staring at one another, until Harry finally moves. He wraps his arms around Louis’ quivering figure and tugs the older boy up into his lap protectively. Louis shakes his head and keeps crying, but relents and wraps his own arms around Harry as well.

“I’m shit, I’m complete shit.”

In Harry’s head are those boundaries he’s set-don’t get too close to Louis, don’t let his eyes linger on Louis’, don’t touch Louis too intimately, and on and on-but he throws them all out now that Louis is crying in his arms, vulnerable and hurt. He kisses Louis’ forehead and keeps his lips there for a moment so he can breathe in the scent of Louis’ shampoo and cologne and scratch at his scalp gently. “Don’t ever say that, okay? You are not shit, you are amazing. I’m not lying, I could never lie to you Lou.”

Instead of agreeing, which was Harry’s desired effect, Louis seems to curl in upon himself further. It reminds Harry of the roly polies he and Gemma used to play with as kids, the kind that you poke with a stick on the sidewalk and they’d roll into a ball to protect themselves. That’s what Louis’s doing, Harry realizes suddenly, he’s trying to protect himself and he’s far too good at it.

“It wasn’t the first time, was it?” Harry murmurs. “This wasn’t the first time Nathan’s hurt you.”

Louis curls up further and whimpers a bit. “Harry, don’t. Please, please don’t.”

Harry remembers his mother’s words, and so he nods. “What do you need?” he asks, his whispers lost in Louis’ hair. “Tell me and I’ll do anything. Tell me what you need me to do to help you.”

Louis shakes his head against Harry a few times, and then looks up. Their eyes meet, glassy green to red rimmed blue, and Louis pulls himself up further. Harry sits completely still and silent as Louis carefully leans forward and presses their lips together. It’s a chaste kiss, hardly a kiss really, more like just crying to one another, but it’s still a kiss.

When Louis pulls back, he reaches for Harry’s hand and nods. “Hold me. Just for now, just until I have to leave, that’s all I want.”

So Harry does.

…

“Louis what the fuck are these?”

Louis peeks his eyes open and groans. “How early is it, love?” He mumbles, trying to take in his surroundings with his sleepy brain.

Nathan slaps him so hard across the face his neck cracks.

“What the fuck are these, Louis? Answer me.” Nathan shoves a pile of papers at Louis and they flutter over the mattress. Now very, very awake, Louis pushes himself up and his heart stops when he sees they’re all sketches of Harry. Harry’s eyes, Harry’s legs, Harry lounging in the art room with the sun defining his profile. Harry is everywhere, he’s in Nathan’s hands, he’s on their bed, and this is so very wrong.

“Studies,” Louis coughs out. “He agreed to model for me, I-”

Nathan positions himself over Louis and grabs his hair, tugging it up so far that Louis feels as though it might all be pulled out. “Do you think I believe that?” Nathan growls, his nose almost touching Louis’ by now. “Do you think even for a fucking minute that I believe that?’

“I’m sor-”

Nathan knees Louis in the chest, right between his ribs, and knocks the wind out of him. He rasps Nathan’s name but the man shows no mercy, only pulling on Louis’ hair harder and driving his knee deeper. “You’re disgusting, Louis. You’re a disgusting fucking whore and you’re cheating on me with that kid, aren’t you? Aren’t you?”

He brings his knee back just enough for Louis to be able to breathe again. “No, no, no, Nathan please! No!” Louis shakes his head profusely and struggles to escape from his boyfriend’s grasps but at no avail.

With a sadistic grin. Nathan pulls back and lands a harsh blow to Louis’ ribs. There’s a sickening crack and Louis screams. The pain is white and blinding and Louis can’t breathe for a good minute or so and when he finally can, he’s met with sharp unbearable pain .

When Louis’ hazy vision returns, he sees Nathan’s moved away from him and has started to tear the sketches to pieces. He leaves the room for only a few seconds, before returning with the painting of Harry’s hands. Louis had thought it vague enough to work on at home, and he needed to because it’s a project and the due date is looming, but he was obviously wrong.

“Is this him?” Nathan demands. Louis shakes his head, trying to stand but he can’t, he can’t even breathe. “You’re a liar. Disgusting, ungrateful liar.” Nathan hisses.

Harry’s painting is punched through by Nathan’s fist and Louis can only cry.

“Nate, please.” He begs like he has so many times before.

Nathan leaves again and comes back with all of Louis’ supplies. In a fit of terrifying rage, he throws the pencils and the brushes, spills the paint, breaks the glasses that Louis uses to hold water. With the final glass, Nathan walks back to the bed and looks Louis over.

“You are absolutely pathetic.” He punctuates his words with another punch, this time to Louis’ face. There’s yet another crack but Louis doesn’t know what it was and he doesn’t care, all he can think about is the painting, Harry’s beautiful painting, ruined.

Nathan grabs for Louis’ hair one last time, pulling so their eyes can meet. “You will be here when I get home from work, is that understood?” Louis can’t even nod so Nathan does it for him, and leaves. As soon as the door slams after him and the lock clicks, Louis tries to get out of bed.

He falls off instead, landing on his side and letting out a blood curdling scream. There’s blood running crimson from somewhere, he isn’t sure where, but he knows this is it. Nathan’s done it this time, he’s dying.

Louis passes out with his hand still curled around a broken pencil and to the sounds of someone yelling at him through the front door.

…

Harry gets a call as he’s leaving his first lecture of the day, on his way to pick Louis’ coffee up. He doesn’t recognize the number but he answers anyway and he’s glad he does when the woman on the other end asks for Harry Style’s and explains that she’s calling from the hospital.

“We have a Louis Tomlinson in the ICU here, I was asked to call you.”

It feels as though the world stops spinning. Harry comes to a sudden stop, sending a few people behind him bumping into his back, but he doesn’t care. All he’s focused on right now is Louis.

“Louis’ hurt?” he breathes. “What is it, what happened? Is he alright-”

“He’s just coming out of surgery-”

“Surgery?” Harry cries, causing a few heads to turn towards him.

The woman sighs, as if she’s put out by all of this. “Mr. Styles, I was told you were an emergency contact. I’m going to need for you to come in and sign some papers in case Mr. Tomlinson…in case something should happen to him. He’s been asking for you as well.”

Harry slips his bag up further over his shoulder and starts sprinting. “Is he still awake?” He pants into the phone, dodging confused looking students on his way out.

“He will be soon, most likely.”

“Tell him I’m coming, please. Tell him I’ll be there.” With this, he hangs up and continues running, taking the steps down two at a time and texting Liam to warn him he’s taking the car.

Harry has never liked hospitals, they’re too sterile and there are too many crying, sad people. Now he’s one of them, one of those crying and sad people, but he’s past caring about that, he just needs to find Louis and make sure he’s alright.

After practically sobbing and yelling at everyone who gets in his way Harry finally, finally, reaches Louis’s room. There he is, small little Louis lying tan on the sterile white bed sheets, bandages wrapped around his chest and a swollen face. He’s sleeping it seems, his wrapped chest rising and falling only slightly as he breathes.

“Louis.” Harry covers his mouth quickly to stop a sob, but it’s too late.

Louis blinks his eyes open slowly, and smiles. “Hello, love. Did you bring me my coffee?”

Despite his efforts, Harry’s sob escapes. “Oh Louis.” He whimpers. He shuffles forward and reaches down to grasp Louis’ hand, the one that isn’t strapped to an IV and a heart rate monitor.

“I’m guessing that’s a no?” Between every word is a heavy, labored breath that ends in a slight wheezing noise. He has a tube up his nose that Harry assumes is to help him breathe, but it doesn’t sound like it’s helping much.

Harry pulls a chair up to the bed and brings Louis’ hand to his forehead. His hand seems like the only part of him that’s not harmed in any way, except for a few tiny cuts that almost look like slivers. Louis smiles softly at this and moves his thumb to brush minutely over Harry’s face.

“You came.” He wheezes.

“Of course I did! Did you think I wouldn’t?” Harry accuses.

Louis shrugs as best he can and winces at the movement. “M’sorry I had to call you, but I couldn’t think of anyone else. And I just wanted you here.”

“Don’t be sorry for that, love.”

Louis closes his eyes tiredly and squeezes Harry’s hand. “Zayn’s my emergency contact-kept Nate off when I had to fill it out at the doctors, knew he’d do this- but he’s in a test right now so he didn’t answer. Mum is my other and she…she hates me-”

“She doesn’t hate you.” Harry soothes.

“She should if she doesn’t,” Louis smiles. “I ignore her calls, she ignores mine I guess, it’s only fair. Nathan doesn’t like my family so he kept me from them and I listened.”

“She probably missed the call, Lou. As soon as she knows you’re here, she’ll come, I promise.” Harry closes his eyes and leans his forehead against Louis’ knuckles, because he can. Because Louis is here and he’s alive and Harry should have cherished all these little touches so much more than he did.

Louis keeps brushing his thumb over Harry’s skin, so gently it almost feels like nothing. “Sent my sisters a birthday card,” Louis breathes. “I snuck it, hid it from Nathan, and sent it to them with a few sketches of them and Zayn. I didn’t want them to think I’d forgotten. I never could.”

“Nathan did this, didn’t he?”

Harry glances up just enough to watch the way Louis relaxes a bit at the question and opens his eyes again. They’re a bit glazed over, probably from the drugs he was given for surgery, but he still seems coherent, if not exhausted.

“I always knew it’d come to this,” he whispers. “I always knew he’d go too far one day and just….just kill me, I guess.. I thought he had this time, I really really did. Kinda hoped too, because if I’m dead he can’t keep hurting me.”

Harry presses his lips to Louis’ palm, tears forming in his eyes yet again. “I should have done something when I first found out,” he laments. “I should have told Zayn or tried to talk to you and I didn’t I-”

“Shh, hey,” Louis chastises him. “If this is anyone’s fault it’s mine.”

“No,” Harry jolts up, his eyebrows furrowing. “No, don’t you dare blame this on yourself. Nothing Nathan ever did to you was your fault, nothing Nathan ever did was deserved.”

Louis smiles, grins really, and tries to shrug again. “I’m clumsy, I have a knack for ruining things, I’m just a walking disaster, really.”

“That doesn’t mean you deserve to be hit!” Harry gasps.

Louis’ eyes soften at this and he’s back to squeezing Harry’s hand. “You’re so sweet Harry, you know that? When you first asked me out for coffee I wanted to say yes so badly, and every time after that when you’d leave for the day I wanted to go with you. I wanted to leave Nathan behind and go with you.”

“You should have,” Harry mumbles. “Louis, look what he’s done to you. He almost killed you!”

He isn’t sure if it’s the drugs or if it’s just the way he is, but Louis is not getting it. Harry can tell just by looking at him that the severity of the situation hasn’t set in yet. There’s so much yet to come as well, Louis will probably have to talk to the police, they’ll probably have to find a way to track Nathan and then arrest him. After that comes a trial-Louis doesn’t seem to realize that yet. He doesn’t realize that this isn’t something he can try to hide like all the other times Nathan hurt him. He doesn’t realize this is the last time Nathan will ever hurt him.

So Harry tells Louis that. “I won’t ever let this happen again,” he murmurs against Louis’ hand which has found its way back to Harry’s cheek. “Never. I’ll never let him hurt you again.”

Louis blinks owlishly, and then finally closes his eyes with a soft smile. “My mum warned me about pretty boys like you, you know,” he mumbles. “Pretty boys with pretty lies.”

He rests for a little longer after that, Harry keeping watch while he shuts his eyes and tries to breathe with that tube in his nose. Seeing him this way brings Harry back to the day he found Louis crying in the studio and the sketch he had drawn, the sketch of the beautiful boy with the long eyelashes and bruises all down his face. Harry has never felt so oblivious in his life.

How could he not have noticed? There was the way Louis never wanted to be touched, the way he flinched if you even so much as dropped a hand near him. Then, there was the fact that he did everything Nathan asked of him, no matter what. He even kept himself from Zayn, his best friend, just to please Nathan and Harry never noticed until it was far past too late.

Just as Harry’s thinking of Zayn, he swears he can hear the boy. Sure enough, just outside the door comes a loud commotion and Zayn yelling, “Shutup, he’s my brother, I’m allowed here you called me! Where is he?”

Louis must hear it as well because he’s sleepy eyes open slowly. “Zaynie.” He calls, his voice weak and just barely close to normal volume. Harry worries it won’t reach out far enough for Zayn to hear, but he’s proven wrong when the commotion stops and the door swings open.

“Lou?” Zayn croaks out when he sees his best friend laying on the bed there. He starts crying even louder than Harry was and runs up to the bed, stopping short at the end of it. Zayn’s eyes move from the bandages wrapped around Louis, to Harry who nods slightly. He can’t believe it either.

“Doctor told me it was a few broken ribs and some internal bleeding,” Louis informs the both of them, but mostly Zayn. “M’fine though, really. They fixed it I think.” Harry willingly lets go of Louis’ good hand so he can stretch it out to pull Zayn forward and kiss his forehead.

Zayn doesn’t move though, only slightly so he can press their foreheads together. “Oh god, Louis,” He breathes, so quietly Harry barely catches it. “Look what he did to you. I love you so much, you know that? You should have told me-”

“If I told you he would have hurt you too,” Louis murmurs. “Or he would have hurt me more. They’ll never catch him, I know they won’t.”

Zayn shakes his head slightly. “Yes they will. He’s going to pay for doing this to you Louis, I swear.”

They stay pressed together until Harry moves and grabs another chair from the empty bed beside Louis’ to pull up. With a look of thanks, Zayn takes Harry’s old chair and keeps a tight grip on Louis’ hand, refusing to let go even when a kind nurse comes in to check on him.

“What are you doing?” Zayn practically growls when he sees her messing with Louis’ IV bag.

She seems a bit taken aback, but answers kindly anyway. “It’s just medicine to help him sleep and to keep the pain away. He needs to rest.” She explains. Zayn looks her over suspiciously, before nodding and apparently giving her permission to continue doing her job.

“Be nice,” Louis scolds. “I have a feeling I’m going to be here awhile, I need the nurses to like me. Mum always hated when the patients were rude.” The nurse laughs loudly, making Louis jolt a bit, but he still smiles back at her.

Once she leaves, Zayn goes back to fussing over Louis, making sure he’s comfortable, asking if he’s hungry, asking if anything hurts and maybe he needs to call the nurse back. It gets to the point where Harry has to reach forward to cover their intertwined hands to get his attention.

“Z, I think for now he needs to just rest.”

Zayn snaps upward at this, almost standing up all the way. “No. If he’s hurting, I want to know about it! Nathan’s been hurting him for an entire fucking year and I never noticed, and I will never let that happen again.”

Louis shoots Harry an apologetic look before returning back to Zayn. “Zayn, babe calm down alright? Sit please, come sit and hold my hand. Breathe. Write me a sonnet. Don’t yell at Harry.”

Zayn does sit, and he does hold Louis’ hand. “M’sorry Harry,” he sighs a little while afterward, sounding like a child who’s just been scolded by his mother. “I’m just stressed out.”

“It’s alright Zayn, don’t apologize.” Harry says back, making sure to meet Zayn’s eyes so he knows Harry really isn’t angry. Honestly, he’s about two seconds away from breaking himself, he can’t imagine how Zayn must feel.

Later, when the sun has just set and Louis is sleeping soundly, Harry catches Zayn looking at him over his cafeteria food. Harry raises an eyebrow in question and Zayn shakes his head slightly.

“You’re a really good friend for doing this,” Zayn says. “For coming up here to see him. For staying.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Well, I’m not just going to leave him.”

To his delight, Zayn chuckles a bit. “No, I mean you don’t have to. You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to but you do, don’t you? You really want to be here for Louis?”

And of course Harry does. He wants to always be there for Louis, he’s known that for a while now, that even if it’s not as a boyfriend he’d be content just to be a friend. However now when he looks down at Louis sleeping, holding onto his hand, that familiar yearning is back. Harry wants to be so much more for Louis. He wants to be that person Louis can come home to at night and not be scared of, that person that as soon as Louis catches sight of him his face breaks into that eye crinkling smile, maybe even that person that Louis could love.

Zayn isn’t an idiot and he notices the way Harry stares down at Louis. With a soft chuckle and a nod, he amends his earlier question. “You really want to be with Louis, don’t you?”

Harry smiles back, not even bothering with trying to lie. “I really do.”

…

Louis wakes to the sound of soft crying, not like Zayn’s and not like Harry’s. He realizes, with confusion, that it sounds almost like a woman’s cry. Fighting against the urge to drift back to sleep, Louis pries his eyes open and looks around the room. Both Harry and Zayn went to the cafeteria for lunch, he remembers, but how long ago was that?

“Louis?” Louis turns to his side and would gasp if he could when he sees his mother sitting there. “Louis! Oh, my baby. My sweet angel.” She must have already been crying, Louis thinks, but it’s only worse now.

“Mum?” he rasps, his throat and mouth feeling like sandpaper. “I’m sorry. I should have called you back-”

She cuts him off by shaking her head and wrapping her arms around his shoulders as best she can without hurting him. “I should have known something was wrong,” his mother moans. “I knew something wasn’t right, that isn’t like you Lou. It’s not like you to go so long without talking to us.”

“I wish everyone would stop blaming themselves,” Louis murmurs, scrunching his face a bit when she kisses his cheeks. “Where are the boys? Harry?”

Louis’ mother sits back down and gives him a strange look, before squeezing his hand and sighing. “I made them go home and get some rest. It’s three am, Louis, I’ve only been here a few minutes, they were here the entire time, neither of them have had a wink of sleep. Besides, I needed some time with you, baby. I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Louis blurts out, his breathing becoming more labored as he realizes all he’s put her through. “I’m sorry Mum, I’m so sorry. I should have never stopped calling, Mum I-” He cuts off, his words turning into hiccupping sobs. Somewhere beside him he can hear a machine beeping but all Louis can focus on is trying to beg for his mother’s forgiveness.

A nurse rushes in and frowns at the scene. Louis’s mother nods to her and moves down to Louis, gently pushing his hair back and kissing his forehead. “Shh, shh calm down Louis. You need to be calm, alright? It isn’t good for you to be so worked up.” Louis does as he’s told and slowly but surely he can breathe again and the machine has ceased beeping.

“I could never, ever blame you for this sweetheart,” his mum whispers to him. “Just try to breathe, it’s okay now I promise.”

The nurse must have put something into his IV bag again, something that makes Louis’ eyes droop heavily. He’s pretty sure it’s stronger this time though, because without his permission he starts to talk.

“Wake me up when Haz gets here,” Louis slurs out, squeezing his mother’s hand as best he can. “My pretty little Harry. Little muse, Mum, I swear he is. Had a million sketches before Nathan ruined them.”

“Alright Lou, I promise.”

“He’s just so perfect.”

Louis swears he hears his mother snicker, but he can’t be too sure. “I bet he is, Louis. Goodnight sweetheart, I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Louis’s pretty sure he tells her he loves her but the drugs have knocked him out before he can be completely positive of it.

…

Waking up the next day it all almost seems like a dream, like maybe Louis isn’t really hurt and Harry will be seeing him today for lunch and to study together. Harry is brought quickly back to reality when he looks over and sees Niall isn’t in his bed, but Zayn is. That’s when it all comes rushing back, staying up all night with Zayn to watch over Louis, leaving only when his mother showed up who is the only other person they really trust him with at the moment, and finally convincing Niall to stay at Liam’s so Zayn wouldn’t have to be alone.

“Zayn?” Harry whispers once he’s gotten dressed and ready to leave.

Zayn stirs a bit and groans. “Lou okay?” He mumbles.

“Yeah, think so,” Harry whispers back. “I’m heading up to the hospital, you want me to wait for you?”

“No, go ahead,” Zayn yawns. “I’m gonna sleep a bit more, I think. Text me if something’s wrong, you have my number yeah?”

Harry nods and then, because he can’t resist himself, brushes Zayn’s fringe away from his eyes. “Nothing’s going to be wrong, promise. Try to sleep, alright?’

Chuckling a bit, Zayn closes his eyes and snuffles against his pillow. “Louis’ right, you are quite nice.” When he sees Harry’s obviously confused, Zayn laughs even louder and goes back to sleep.

After texting Niall and Liam to assure them both that he’s fine but he won’t be coming to class any time soon, Harry goes out into the flurry of snow. He makes sure he has Zayn’s book before he leaves though, because Louis will probably want to read it he figures. There’s no telling how long he’ll be in the hospital and knowing Louis, he’s going to get bored.

“My boy likes you.” Louis’ mother says when Harry walks into the hospital room with a cardboard cup holder. He nearly trips over his own feet at this but quickly rights himself and walks the rest of the way to Louis’ bed slowly.

“I um…I brought you tea, because I wasn’t sure if you’d like coffee or something and I just figured-”

“Harry, sit down.”

Harry sits down. He ends up on the opposite side of Louis’ mom in a much less comfortable chair, but he figures Louis’ mum should probably have the squishy one. Making sure not to jostle anything important, Harry sets the tray of cups down carefully on the small table next to Louis’ bed. With a short glance up to Louis’ mum, Harry leans forward a bit and lets his hand rest over Louis’ much tinier one.

“I don’t trust you.”

Taking a deep breath, Harry nods. “I completely understand,” he says, meeting Louis’ mother’s eyes again. “If I were you I’d never even let him out of the house again, not after this.”

She nods back sadly. “Louis really does like you though, and I would love to be able to trust you but I-I don’t know you. I don’t know your personality, or where you’re from, I don’t even know your last name, and this all sort of made me realize I didn’t know Nathan either. Maybe if I had, I could have stopped this.”

“Mrs. Tomlinson-”

“Jay, sweetheart.”

“Right, er, Jay,” Harry stumbles over the words, trying to fix his mistake. “Louis has probably already told you this but you really shouldn’t blame yourself. Not even Zayn noticed and…you know Zayn, right?”

Jay smiles, her blue eyes soft and almost the exact same shade of Louis’. “Yes dear, I know Zayn. I understand what you’re trying to say and thank you, but I don’t intend on ever seeing him hurt again.”

“Me either,” Harry says, sternly. “Even if he doesn’t like me, we’re still friends. I’m not going to let this happen again neither are you or Zayn. He’s pretty protected now, I think.”

When Jay laughs, herself seeming surprised at the action, while Harry grins dopily at her. He really, really just wants her to like him because liking him is the first step to trusting him and Harry needs Jay to trust him. She motions for the tea Harry’s brought her and they both sip at their drinks in silence until Louis’ stirs with a moan.

“Nate?” Is the first thing out of his mouth and a shiver shoots down Harry’s spine. Louis must be used to waking up in pain and looking for pain and that makes Harry sick to his stomach.

Jay obviously doesn’t like it either because she shakes her head and reaches over to take Louis’ hand. “Wake up, love.”

Louis groans a bit and slowly opens his eyes. When he catches sight of his mother he grins. “Mum. You’re here,” he whispers, his voice sounding much better than the day before. “I thought it was a dream.”

Jay’s eyes are heartbreakingly sad as she lets out a sigh and shakes her head. “I would never leave, darling.”

Louis turns a bit and lets out a small, adorable gasp when he sees Harry. “Oh no, go away I look horrid.”

Leave it to Louis to make a joke at a time like this, Harry thinks with a smile. “Morning. I brought you coffee I um…can you even drink it? I’m sorry, it was habit.”

“We don’t have to tell,” Louis giggles, lifting his hand to grab the cup. When his arm is too short to reach, held back by the IV and just general pain, he looks up at Harry with a pout resembling that of a six year old.

“Lou.” Jay warns in a good natured manner.

“Just a sip, he’s brought it all this way,” Louis takes the cup from Harry and smiles. “Thank you, love. Mother, Harry brings me coffee every day and never tells me it stunts my growth, the two of you really should have a talk.”

“Glad to see you’ve gained your lovely sense of humor back,” Louis’ mother remarks with a fond roll of her eyes. “Harry dear, I’m going down to the cafeteria would you like something?”

Harry’s eyes widen and he almost chokes on his latte. “Oh god, I forgot you must me be hungry! I should have gotten-”

Jay laughs and raises her hands to stop him. “Harry, its fine. The fact you brought me anything at all is nice enough.”

Harry says nothing because his cheeks are now flaming red in embarrassment. Louis notices and his hand goes to the younger boy’s curls almost protectively. He tells his mother Harry will have a bagel with cream cheese and advises her to pick something up for Zayn too as he should be coming in soon as well. With a quick glance between the two of them, Jay leaves with her smile still fond and her tea still in hand.

“Did she say anything embarrassing while I was out?” Louis asks, his hand not straying from Harry’s curls.

“No, of course not,” Harry scoffs. “She’s so lovely, Louis, honestly. I can see where you get it from.”

Louis snorts at that and sips at his coffee a few more times before he speaks again. “Come here for a second, Haz.”

Harry frowns but does lean forward when Louis motions for him to do so. He gets to the point to where their noses are touching and Louis grins, before touching their lips together. It’s just like the last time, not so much as a kiss as it is a comfort, just closing their eyes and feeling close to one another if only for a few seconds before Louis pulls back with a small smile.

“I don’t regret that, so don’t think I do. Alright?”

Ever since they kissed only days ago it’s been almost the only thing Harry could think about. He knew he shouldn’t, because Louis had a boyfriend and it shouldn’t have even happened in the first place, but still. All Harry wanted to do was find Louis and kiss him breathless, see how his tinier body reacted to Harry’s bigger hands and how he would sound whispering Harry’s name.

“I can trust you, can’t I Haz?” Louis asks, once Harry’s sat back down in his chair with a wide grin.

The curly haired boy moves and catches Louis’ hand in his much larger one. “Yes Louis, you can trust me. I promise.”

Blue eyes stare into Harry’s own, obviously searching for something, and he must find it because he squeezes Harry’s hand and nods. “I sort of left a note,” Louis says, slowly. “I thought…Haz, I really thought I was going to die so I wrote a note and it’s on my bedroom floor on the back of one of my sketches.”

Just the thought of Louis like that makes tears well up in Harry’s eyes. Louis in so much pain he actually thought he was dying, he actually thought he had to leave a note for his family to find. He must have felt so alone, he must have felt so alone and so hurt and no one was there to comfort him.

“Harry hey, don’t get upset love,” Louis murmurs. “I’m alright now, promise.”

“What do you need me to do?” Harry croaks out, trying to wipe his tears away. He shouldn’t be crying, Louis’ the one who’s hurt, he should be Harry’s focus right now.

Louis cringes a bit at his next words. “I need you to get rid of it for me. My mum cannot read that, Zayn cannot read that and I think…I think the police are probably going to go in there aren’t they?” he waits until Harry nods before continuing. “I don’t want anyone else to read it, Harry, please.”

“I’ll get rid of it Lou, promise.” Harry swears.

“Now.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now idiot,” Louis laughs. “Nate’s not going to be gone for long, I don’t think and soon the cops are going to be there too.”

Part of Harry doesn’t want to leave Louis on his own, even if he knows Jay will be back he still doesn’t like the idea of not being with Louis. Another part of him though knows that Louis is trusting him with this because he needs Harry to help him and Harry is going to help him.

So, Louis slips Harry his house keys and his address and as soon as Jay joins them again, Harry excuses himself saying he’ll be back later.

…

“Zayn, it’s not that big of a deal-”

“Yes it is,” Zayn interrupts Louis with a scowl. “It is a huge deal Louis, the fact that he did this to you and got away with it for so long is a very big deal.”

With a heavy sigh-well, as heavy as he can with a broken rib or two-Louis returns to playing with the gross jello he’d been given for lunch. A nurse had come to help him fix his bed so he can sit up comfortably which apparently meant it was time for him to attempt to eat something. Louis wouldn’t really classify what was given to him as food, exactly, but it was still better than nothing.

“It’s a bit embarrassing Z, in case you didn’t realize.” Louis mumbles bitterly.

Zayn sighs and sits back in his chair. After Harry left to get the note and Zayn showed up, Jay reluctantly decided she should go book herself a hotel. Zayn had tried to convince her to stay at his place but she had wrinkled her nose and told him very clearly that she knows exactly what he’s up to in that flat. Louis had cackled so hard he was sure he’d broken another rib.

There’s a knock on the door and without either of the boy’s permission, it’s opened to reveal a very stern looking police officer. “Louis Tomlinson?”

“That would be me.” Louis sighs. A more naive part of him had hoped this wouldn’t happen, that maybe the hospital could just fix what was wrong and he could return home safe and sound like all the other times. He was obviously wrong.

“Louis, I realize this is probably a very difficult-”

“If you can’t find him he’s probably at his mother’s,” Louis interrupts the officer. “Nate always runs to his mum when he’s in trouble. And if he’s not there he’s probably at his brothers, he lives in Paris for school though, I’m not sure how that sort of thing works. Can you get him in Paris?”

Zayn squeezes Louis’ hand. “Lou, don’t interrupt him.” He hisses.

The police officer breaks into a grin that’s probably against his entire demeanor he set up for the situation. “Louis, I’m here to ask you a few questions if that’s alright.”

“By all means.” Louis murmurs.

The officer takes a seat-Harry’s seat, Louis notices-and pulls out a pad of paper. “Mr. Tomlinson do you know anyone by the name of…Brendon Snow?”

Louis thinks for a moment, before nodding. “Yeah, he works with Nathan I think. At the law firm. Why?”

“We have reason to believe that Nathan could be with him at the moment. It seems as though…Mr. Tomlinson, it would seem that he’s been cheating on you with Brendon for quite some time now.”

Zayn curses under his breath and clenches his hands into fists. “That fucking bastard.” He growls.

Louis, however, has much more on his mind than revenge at Nathan. “Is he alright? You need to get to him before Nathan hurts him, please. You can’t let this happen to him too.”

Both the officer and Zayn go silent. They’re staring at Louis in confusion until Louis motions for the officer to keep talking.

“Well, we’re currently investigating that as we speak. Now Louis, could you give us some sort of timeline? When did Nathan first start abusing you?”

The word abuse makes Louis cringe. He doesn’t like the thought of being some silly little victim which, he guesses, he sort of is now. “A month or so after we first started dating he uh…I was living with Zayn at the time and he was gone while Nate was over and Nate punched me when I broke something. It just sort of got worse from there.”

When he sees the officer writing that down, Louis panics. “He was nice to me after though,” he says, quickly. “He was really so sweet to me and he’d apologize and…it wasn’t all bad.”

“That’s common in these cases, Louis,” the officer remarks, finishing up whatever he’s writing. “Mr. Tomlinson, did Nathan ever rape you?”

Louis’ heart starts beating double time at that and he shakes his head despite the pain it brings him. “N-No we were dating that’s not-”

“Lou, if you didn’t want it…” Zayn trails off, meeting Louis’ eyes with his own teary brown ones Louis’s painted so many times before that he knows them by heart.

“I mean…well, sometimes he didn’t-he never always asked and I. I’m sorry, is there another question I can answer?”

To his credit, the officer notices how uncomfortable Louis is and nods. “It’s alright Louis, you don’t need to answer everything today, we can move on. Has Nathan ever hurt you to this extent before?”

Louis fills the police in on every gory little detail, from how Nathan controlled what he ate, to all the times Nathan hurt him to the point where he’d have to stay in bed for a few days after and try to fix it himself. The entire time he talks, Zayn holds his hand and cries silently, tears leaving streaks down his face until he wipes at them furiously.

When the officer leaves, only after reminding Louis’ he’ll be back later and may even have to talk to Zayn, Louis sighs. It was exhausting having to rehash the pain of the last year with a complete stranger. In all honesty, he’d rather just go back to sleep now rather than deal with Harry probably showing up soon, angry, and his mother coming back to look at him like some broken toy.

“I completely fucking failed you.” Zayn murmurs.

“Z, love, it’s alright-”

“It is not alright!” Zayn shouts, pulling away from Louis and startling him. “He’s been abusing you and I never noticed! How could I notice, I’m so stupid, so fucking stupid-”

“Zayn please stop yelling.” Louis hates how his voice quivers but he’s scared. He’s never seen Zayn like this and he knows it’s because of him. What if Zayn hits him too, like Nathan did whenever Louis pissed him off?

Seeing the look on his best friend’s face must break him because Zayn stops yelling. He even go so far as to start moving away from Louis until Louis shakes his head and reaches for him again, pulling him closer until Zayn’s practically in the bed.

“It’s just scary, please don’t do it.” Louis says.

Zayn nods and gets up onto the bed, sitting as best he can next to Louis’ small figure. “I know, I’m sorry Lou I wasn’t thinking. Are you tired?” Louis nods back and Zayn kisses his forehead. “Go to sleep, babe. I’ll be right here, m’not gonna let anyone hurt you okay?”

“Love you a lot, Zayn,” Louis sighs, letting his eyes close. “Forgot to ask, can I move back home?”

Zayn laughs, his voice still thick with tears. “Of course you can you idiot,” he whispers, wiping the tears away. “You’re bed’s still waiting for you. Always will be.”

…

Harry knocks before he enters Louis’ flat, though he isn’t really sure why. It’s not like Nathan is there, he took off like the coward he is without even checking to see whether or not Louis was okay.

The key takes some jiggling but the door eventually opens and reveals a flat that does not look like it belongs to Louis. It’s completely ordinary and well kept, with polished wood floor floors and windows that are so small they make the entire place look dark and dismal. Louis’ shoes sit on the floor next to the door in perfect order, pressed right against each other and not at all how he leaves them when he takes them off at the studio. Even his coat is hung up neatly.

Harry walks carefully across the spotless main room towards where he can see the mess awaiting him. First comes what was probably an art studio if Louis’ half ruined paintings are anything to go by. From there to the bedroom is a trail of broken glass and spilled paint which Harry follows until he reaches the bedroom.

He sucks in a shuddering breath and lets it out slowly at the scene in front of him. Louis’ artwork is ripped and torn all over the room, including the picture of Harry’s hands that he knew Louis loved so much. As if that wasn’t enough, there’s blood staining not only the floor but the bed sheets. Nathan attacked him in bed, when he was the most vulnerable. Louis had absolutely no chance of defending himself.

Remembering his task, Harry starts to look around for the note. It’s when he’s shifting through all the torn paper that he notices a theme. All the sketches are of him. Nathan hurt Louis because he found the sketches of Harry.

Through his tears, Harry catches sight of writing on the back of one of the papers and reaches for it. There’s blood on the edges of it-Louis’ blood, Harry realizes with a sob-but there’s also a scribbled and barely legible note on it as well.

Mum: I love you I’m sorry I stopped calling I’m sorry you might have to see me this way. Please just know how much I love you, I always did. No one could have ever asked for better than you. Give my love to the girls and keep them safe

Zayn: This is my fault please don’t blame yourself. You’ll do so well with the book I’m sorry I won’t be around to see. Take care of my girls for me and take care of yourself too. I love you so much, Z

Nate: I forgive you and I love you. I’m sorry if I was trouble

Harry: I wish things could have been different. Its true by the way, you know? This is the way the world ends and this is my whimper.

Harry sits down in the middle of the mess, in the middle of the paint and the glass and the paper, and just cries until he can’t anymore and all that’s left is dry, heaving sobs.

…

It takes Louis a few weeks to get out of the hospital. When he does, however, Nathan’s already been caught and put in jail awaiting charges that Louis’ mother had to convince him to press. She had to sit him down while he shook and cried and promise him a million times over that Nathan would never hurt him again and if he did press charges, there was no way Nathan could get to him as revenge.

He’s not looking forward to having to go up and testify in front of Nathan but he can do it. He hopes.

Now he sits on the couch back at Zayn and his flat. Home. Louis’s home and even if he’s still in a bit of pain, he doesn’t think he’s ever been so happy.

Zayn is bustling around the room, collecting everything Louis could possibly need, while Louis watches on amused. “Babe, honestly all we’re doing is watching a movie.” He says, reaching out to grab the back of Zayn’s shirt and tug.

Pouting, Zayn gives in and sits down next to the nest of blankets he’s swaddled Louis is, along with his sketchbook, a slew of pencils, his cell phone, his laptop, a cup of tea, and a completely unnecessary turkey sandwich. Apparently to Zayn, though, that isn’t enough.

“Are you alright? Do you need anything else?”

“Z, seriously,” Louis chuckles. “I hardly need all the things you’ve put here right now. The sketchbook is nice though, thank you.”

Nathan didn’t get to Louis’ sketch book to Louis’ relief, meaning as he flips through he still has many of his sketches left behind, including the very first one of Harry’s hands. When he reaches a blank page, Louis decides to start on a new one, one he’s definitely going to paint later.

It’s Harry, slumped over the hospital bed while he thought Louis was sleeping one night. His forehead is pressed to Louis’ hand and he’s holding his cross necklace between their palms like he’s praying. Harry isn’t religious, Louis knows the necklace is a token of his sister, but still Harry seemed to fall into that sort of state a lot when he was around Louis in the hospital.

Though the movie has started, Louis keeps sketching until there’s a clear picture and Zayn catches sight of it. He sighs a bit and leans his head on Louis’ shoulder, watching him draw for a little while longer before speaking up.

“Lou, he’s a really good kid.”

“Yeah, he is.” Louis murmurs, smudging one of Harry’s curls with his pinkie.

The two boys haven’t kissed again since the last time in the hospital. They didn’t talk to each other about it, but Harry knows Louis isn’t ready for anything even remotely close to a relationship and Louis knows that Harry will be there waiting for when he is. For now, though, Harry seems to be constantly around in some shape or form.

Since he was in the hospital for so long, his professors cooperated and began to give Harry work to bring to Louis and bring whatever he couldn’t email to them back to the professors. Because Louis still isn’t in school, Harry spends most of the day texting him so he isn’t lonely while Zayn is in class. Some nights Harry will even come over to keep Louis company, bringing along his friends Liam and Niall too if Louis feels up to that much socializing.

It’s nice, Louis thinks. It’s nice to have someone who respects his feelings and loves to just be around him, even if they can’t touch or kiss yet. Actually, it’s almost like having another Zayn only the flirting is serious.

“Do you think maybe someday, once you’re ready I mean, you might…” Zayn trails off. There’s no hiding that Zayn completely approves of Harry. In fact, it’s gotten to the point to where sometimes Louis will wake up and Harry will already be in his living room because Zayn wanted to play video games and Harry is an incredibly pushover.

Louis hums, and then smiles and he moves to work on their intertwined hands and the cross. “Maybe someday, Z.”

…

Today is the first day in almost a month that Louis is back at the studio at school. He’s really only here to finish up his final projects and try to put some order into his desk before winter break, but still, Harry gets that this is a very big step. Louis barely even wants to leave his flat anymore, admitting to Harry one night while he was burrowed against the younger boy’s chest that he’s scared people will be able to tell how weak he was to Nathan.

Harry had held his hand that night and read him one of the poems he’d written about a brave, brave boy with a broken soul and blue eyes that pleaded to be understood. After that, he read every single one of his poems about Louis to Louis, because he realizes now how fragile life is. You have to let someone know how you feel about them when you’re given the chance because God only knows what could happen while you’re busy being cowardly.

 Louis fell asleep in his arms soon after and they were both more content then they had been in weeks.

With two coffees and their lunch in hand-Louis wanted fast food and since Zayn has taken this healthy diet idea the doctor suggested extremely seriously, Harry was more than happy to get it for him-Harry headed up to the art studio. Once there he finds Louis so much like he had the first time, with his shoes off, practically swimming in a comfy giant jumper, and humming to himself quietly. It’s different now of course, because the sweater belongs to Zayn and the song he’s humming came from Harry’s music library, and Louis is truly happy, but Louis’s just as beautiful now as he was before if not more so.

“Still know when you’re sneaking up.” Louis sing-songs, flashing Harry a smile over his shoulder.

“Not as stealthy as I thought, huh?” Harry laughs, walking the rest of the way across the studio to set the food and coffee down on the chair Louis has pulled up next to the canvas.

Louis continues to paint with the watercolors for a little while before Harry notices what it is. “It’s Zayn” He observes, watching Louis’ flick the paintbrush across Zayn’s fringe.

“I’ve decided to use people for my final,” Louis says. “I have the one I almost ruined a few months back that’s um…that’s Nathan, that’s Anger. This one is Zayn, and obviously he’s Love.”

Harry nods, reaching into the bag of food for a chip. “The last one though?”

“That’s Desire.”

“And who’s Desire?”

Louis turns just to smirk at Harry, before returning back to Zayn’s portrait. “Guess you’ll have to wait until the art show to see it, hmm?” He teases. Harry rolls his eyes but doesn’t protest. It’s Louis’ work, Harry really shouldn’t pry anyway.

“Feed me some chips while I paint, Haz.” Louis commands, finishing it with a contrasting giggle. Unable to resist anything Louis asks of him with that face, Harry does as he’s told and relishes it when Louis laughs even harder.

He’s much happier now, Harry’s noticed. Though some of the bruises are still there-Harry caught him in his bedroom once, crying over how terrible they looked-and he still has nightmares sometimes, Nathan is no longer a part of Louis’ life. He no longer has to pretend around Zayn or Harry like he used to, he no longer has to go days without eating or be afraid to fall asleep at night be woken up by rough hands and terrible words being thrown at him.

For the first time in a very, very long time Louis is safe and Harry could never ask for more.

…

The end of the semester art show was always a big deal at Louis’ uni. After all, the art department makes up almost half of the students there and half of the school in general. Louis’ been in it since his freshman year and everyone’s always loved his paintings but there’s still that nervousness as he sets up for it.

“It’ll be fine, Louis,” one of his professors assures him with a good-natured smile. “You know whatever you make will be beautiful.”

Most of the Louis’ paintings are sceneries or pictures of Zayn, but now Harry’s there too. His most favorite, of course, is the hand painting he repainted after Nathan ruined the old one. Louis likes this one better anyway because he likes to think that he knows Harry so much better now and that makes the painting so much more personal.

After getting far too many congratulations and I hope I can be as good as you one day Louis needs a break. He’s so used to being home with only Zayn and Harry around and having this many people mulling about and looking at him makes him itchy and worried.

On his way to get a drink, Louis passes his emotions project. There are more people here than at any of his other paintings and he thinks it could be because there aren’t many other watercolors in the gallery, but he can’t be sure. Louis stops to look at them himself for a little while as well, letting his eyes linger on Anger.

It’s far too much of a likeness, really, it shouldn’t even be here. Anyone who knows Nathan would be able to take one look at it and know exactly who it is. If Nate ever found out Louis had done something like this to him, he’d-

“Shh, shh, hey,” Louis jolts a bit when he feels hands on his shoulders and a voice directly in his ear. “I’ve got you Lou, it’s alright.” When he realizes it’s Harry trying to soothe him, he falls back into the younger boy’s arms instantly.

“Harry, if he knew-”

“Love, he’s in jail. He’s not coming out for a long, long time I promise,” Harry murmurs in his ear. “I’m always going to protect you, yeah? Zayn too. No one’s ever going to hurt you again.”

Louis closes his eyes and reaches for Harry’s hands to anchor himself. They stay that way for a little while longer, Harry murmuring sweet nothings into Louis’ ear and Louis wrapping himself in Harry’s warmth.

“Did you see Desire?” Louis asks, finally opening his eyes again.

“Mhm, it’s me.” Harry says, blunt as ever.

Louis smiles. “Did you like it?”

“Do you like me?”

“Possibly,” Louis says, after some hesitation. “Did you like it?”

Harry smiles as well and leans down so he can tilt Louis’ chin up with a finger. Their eyes lock and then Harry’s full lips Louis has drawn about a hundred times are moving against his. It’s different from the times before because it’s an actual kiss spawned out of pure want, not for comfort. Louis has a vague memory of telling Zayn once that Harry’s lips looked like pillows and as dumb as it sounds, they are. They’re soft just like Harry is, just like his kind personality and his hands that reach up to cradle Louis’ face so carefully as though he might break.

When they finally pull away they’re both breathless with swollen lips and giggly, infatuated smiles. “Possibly.” Harry whispers, and Louis decides that yeah, he can definitely give this kid a chance.