Louis Tomlinson spent two long years recovering from the most traumatizing night of his life. But when he receives something from the person responsible for his terror, he’s afraid not only for his life- but for his heart.
WARNING includes smut, rape, murder, and other dark matters that may be disturbing
It had been a 3 weeks, 3 weeks since they had obliterated Louis’ coffee table, and things were steadying. Things were as normal as Louis thought they’d ever really be with Harry; he’d go to work, return home, Harry and he would prepare dinner together, and maybe afterwards Harry would fuck Louis against the wall or on the piano.
Louis tried not to think too hard on Harry, even sufficed himself a lot of confusion and pain to just finalize his diagnosis of schizophrenia and gave him antipsychotic pills in the mornings before he went off to work.
Things were going fine.
Things were finally going to be normal.
Louis chanted this in his thoughts every night before he fell asleep.
Things are finally going to be normal.
It’s so soft, pressed warmly against his ear that Louis almost doesn’t hear it. But when his subconscious awakens, he smiles gently, wearily, and slowly rolls over to face the boy who’s long arms were wrapped around him.
"Good morning," he croaked out, yawning drowsily as he opened his eyes to be face to face with Harry. His green eyes heavily lidded and curls a mess, pillow lines traced across his milky cheek.
Louis smiles fondly, reaching up to tousle his curls and lean forward for a chaste kiss on the lips. “What are you making me for breakfast, curly?”
Harry grins, shifting a bit so he’s leaning on his elbows before he takes a deep breath with the grin leaving his lips, “Can I ask you a favor, Louis?” He questions, completely ignoring the breakfast plea, and when Louis distantly nods, he continues, “Will you take me out to mum’s? There’s one last place I want to look.”
His voice is calm, thoughtful even, for how serious a question that was, and Louis instantly stiffens at the thought of returning to those woods. Facing old Harry, facing a fear that could potentially ruin things finally being normal.
Louis opens his mouth to tell him no, that he couldn’t risk the boy’s finally stabilizing mental health for a maybe.
But then he thinks, saying no will do nothing in favor to the boy, he needed closure. Harry couldn’t have murdered more people at such a young age.
"Okay." He nods idly, his voice breaking in the subconscious fear of finding a mass burial. His stomach twists at that thought as he slowly pulls himself from the silk sheets and Harry’s arms.
The boy follows in suit, pulling on jeans and a sweatshirt, and Louis watches from the corner of his eye, wondering exactly he’d do without him. Light from the window filters in through the blinds, painting him in orange lines.
He looks up at the man as he’s buttoning his jeans, and soft shadows play across his cheeks as he smiles reassuringly and Louis feels his stomach clench, “Harry,” he starts, and the boy pricks a brow.
He inhales deeply, staring at him, before shaking his head with a short smile, “Never mind,” he waves idly, “never mind. Let’s go.”
The sun is shining and the sky is blue, the temperature is fair and the snow is only hiding in the darkest shadows now. Louis tries to enjoy this as they’re walking across the open field beside Harry’s old home, but the reality of the day is too heavy on his shoulders.
Harry is a few paces ahead of him, and the looming trees are growing closer and he hopes, hopes and prays that there’s nothing.
"Harry," he calls, "We’re not going to find anything, right?" The boy turns to look over his shoulder, but he only solemnly smiles, a confusion in those green eyes of his.
The birds chirp overhead as they walk silently through the forest, and Louis wonders if anyone informed them of the potential very bad news.
Harry tucks his hands into his pockets and looks up at the canopy of bare branches and Louis’ thankful they came in the morning so he can see what is actually going on.
They make it to the edge of the large drop off where he thinks they went left last time, and prepares himself for some sort of long hike, but Harry takes a right this time and walks diagonally down the muddy slope. They weave through trees and around boulders and everything from their journey weeks before is coming back and Louis really doesn’t want to do this anymore.
"I can’t do this, Harry." He croaks out, feeling ill as he stumbles to a pause next to a small stream. The boy pauses after he steps across it, looking back. His expression notably different than it had been an hour before. His eyes seemed darker, empty, and his cheeks seemed sunken in. Louis’ blood ran cold in his veins and his heart spasmed.
The boy stares at him for a moment, before shaking his head, “Please, Louis. Please I have to.” His voice sounds distant and dark, something in him that the man hadn’t missed over the past few weeks.
He doesn’t think he can say no, he’s too afraid really, and just nods, before stepping across the stream and following him again.
The tree’s seemed farther apart now, but more rock formations jutted from the earth like unearthed fragments of monstrous bone. Harry was walking faster now, and Louis felt as though he might wretch onto the ground.
He wasn’t prepared for this, but then again, when would he ever be?
He takes several deep breaths, rolls his neck and stretches his arms above his head to try and calm his galloping heart. Harry suddenly stops and waves out a hand to signal Louis to stop as well.
He doesn’t hold in the fearful little croak in his throat when he pulls to a stop behind the boy, before he turns sharply to the right up a steep slope.
Louis sighs, starting to follow when he hears the distant snap of a twig. He whips around, his heart throbbing in his throat as the overwhelming sensation as though he’s being watched bores holes into the side of his head.
But silence follows besides Harry hauling himself up the slope, so he hesitantly turns and clambers up behind him. He’s hunched over, leaning down to dig his fingers into the soil to help pull himself up.
He doesn’t look up until he hears a mortified whimper.
Louis can’t recall a time he’s felt his stomach drop so fast.
He glances up with a tight grip on a root to see a giant rock jutting from the top of the hill, supported by two other boulders in the formation of a shallow cave. The opening though was narrow, probably only a foot and a half, and it was shrouded in glistening spider webs and vines. Harry was standing at the mouth of it, a hand resting on the rough stone, his head bowed and bottom lip trembling. He was drained of color.
"Harry.." Louis says carefully, his limbs frozen, "Harry.. please.. please God don’t.. it can’t be.” He whimpers, his voice breaking when he sees Harry’s crying.
And Louis curses himself a thousand times over because it’s such a beautiful day, and the light is filtering through the trees casting angelic shadows over Harry, but he’s standing at the edge of something that’s about to snap the small amount of stability he had left.
Louis scrambles up the rest of the slope to stand next to Harry, grips at his hand even though his own his covered in mud now. The boy looks blankly down at him, and he’s lost. He looks as though he’s never seen Louis before, and he shakes his head and looks down as his chin wrinkles with tears.
"Let me go first, let me check." Louis says, his voice wavering as he’s holding back a lot of different emotions. He squeezes the boy’s hand as though that will help the situation, before releasing it and sheepishly pulling at the vines barricading the way in.
When it’s open, a heavy dread falls on him and he doesn’t think he can do it. He swallows thickly, as though his tongue is cotton, before pushing through the opening, the rough stone grabbing onto his clothing as a warning; as though it’s trying to hold him back from going in.
It’s dark, and Louis is only greeted with a palate of black and a musty smell. He’s so tense, and he doesn’t move again until he thinks his eyes have adjusted. He shuffles forward, and looks down.
Nothing, nothing. Leaves, nothing.
And then the mixture of a horrified scream and sob gets stuck in his throat and he’s forced to cover his mouth with his hand.
He smells it before he sees it. It sears his nostrils with the most rank, gut tossing smell and he can’t hold back the vomit he wretches onto the dank floor. The smell of human decay can be compared to nothing else.
"Louis?" A voice calls out, distant, terrified, and muffled by the stone walls and dread.
But Louis can’t even open his mouth to form words, he’s staring at four, five, eight… ten bodies before him, all leaned up against the wall, some leaning on each other. It was like a timeline of human decay, some full skeletons, some with the tattered shreds of sunken flesh and frays of hair balding from their ashy skin, and one in particular; her skin still looked buoyant, and she was at the very end, her eyes sunken in, bruises still visible and blood caked and dried on her lips. She was no older than eight.
Louis shakes his head over and over until he was dizzy, and stumbled backwards, the overwhelming buzzing in the back of his skull, threatening to pull the plug and black him out. He’s sobbing before he even realizes it, and covering his eyes with his muddy palms, “No.. god no no no.” He chants, not even able to open his eyes as he fumbles for the opening and nearly falls out of it.
"Harry!" He sobs, his voice coming out in abhorrence and pity. The boy doesn’t even look at him, because he’s looking at something else, something down at the base of the slope.
Louis turns to look at whatever it is, and he scrambles backward, falling onto his back. Two police officers are standing there, waving up to them. “W-What are they doing here?” He nearly screams frantically, a panic taking over his system as his vision tunnels.
He hears their voices, distant, friendly enough to confuse Louis.
"Hey! Lads!" One with a thick Irish accent yells, as they begin the ascent of the slope up to them. "Laddies, you can’t be here! No trespassing! Neighbors complainin’ and we have to come and get you." He laughs, but Louis shakes his head over and over and looks up Harry, who’s expression is unreadable.
He feels every step closer the police get, the more claustrophobic he becomes. The two men make it to them, and the Irish one rolls his eyes, grinning as though he’s sorry about the whole ordeal; until he looks at Harry.
His facial expression changes entirely and his face drains of color, “Is that Harry Styles?” He asks at a whisper to his partner, who’s expression is the same as he nods.
The officer’s eyes move down to Louis, who was still on the ground, trembling.
The air is crackling with tension and Louis is just waiting for it. For his life to end.
"Was he.. hurting you, sir?" The officer’s voice is stiff with disgust and horror, as though he’s holding back something.
Louis can’t hold back the sob pent up in his throat, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head, “What?" he shrieks, “God no—” but the man is already pushing past him to the opening of the cave, “please, no.”
His partner raises a gun warily at Harry, and Louis has to cover his mouth now to try and muffle his sobs.
The officer disappears into the opening, and Louis rolls onto his side with these sobs that he thinks might split his sides. Harry is still silent.
But the officer isn’t. “Cuff them, Jefferson!” His voice wavers in horror as he stumbles out, “I’m calling in backup. There’s ten bodies in there, fuck. Fuck, Jefferson, ten of them.”
Jefferson grabs a hold of Harry and aggressively rips his hands behind his back, “You sick fuck,” he spits, “they shouldn’t have ever let you out of prison.”
Louis’ stomach roils as he screams at the officer now hauling him up, “PLEASE!” He trembles and jerks against the Irish man now hauling him down the hill.
And that’s when Harry starts to scream and wail and kick and twist. They’re already far away, a lingering figure among the trees and rocks. His screams echoing off them, and Louis shakes his head over and over again and again.
"LOUIS!" He screams, "LOUIS YOU CAN’T LET THEM TAKE ME AGAIN!" His voice breaks with his desperate sobs and it’s hard to make them out from the distance, "I DIDN’T DO IT I SWEAR, LOUIS I DIDN’T! PLEASE!”