Chapter Text
‘Don't tell me it was love when you were the one who left.’
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The clock on the wall ticked steadily in a monotonous rhythm that drove Louis mad. The sound echoed through the empty rooms of the flat, which was once filled with laughter and warmth but now seemed cold and lifeless. It was one of those rainy London nights when the drops pattered against the windowpanes like a steady drumbeat; it was as if the sky itself were expressing its sadness through an endless, melancholy song.
Amidst this oppressive silence, Harry and Louis stood facing each other, like two opponents in a long-lost battle. The living room, which they had furnished together with so much love and care, suddenly seemed strange and distant — like an overly perfect and quiet backdrop — as if someone were about to shout 'Cut!' and it were all just a bad film. Memories of happier days hung in the air like ghosts: tangible, yet unattainable; a painful reminder of what once was.
Louis was still sitting on the worn leather sofa that had witnessed their countless nights together — nights full of laughter, passionate discussions, hot sex, and quiet moments of happiness. But today, everything was different. The once strong 'we' had become a broken 'I', desperately trying to understand the fragile parts of his soul. He pulled his knees up to his chest, clutching them like a defenceless child bracing himself against a gathering storm.
Harry stood at the window with his arms folded and his back turned. His shoulders looked tense, almost frozen in the cold silence between them. He said nothing. Minutes passed, then hours — maybe even days — in this painful silence. Louis's heart clenched as he saw Harry's green eyes fill with tears that he desperately held back.
"Talk to me, Harry," Louis finally said, breaking the silence. His voice sounded rough and hoarse, as if he had cried a lot in recent weeks. “You can’t just throw it all away without explaining why.”
Harry turned around slowly. Those damn eyes weren't looking at him. They jerked to Louis, then away again as if he couldn't bear to look at him. His eyes slid over Harry as if he were a shadow — and that was exactly how it felt. As if he was no longer real. The words seemed to slip out of his mouth, and instead he stared out at the rain-soaked street, as if he could find an answer there.
“Louis...” he finally began. The way he pronounced the name broke Louis's heart. It was not an affectionate tone or a term of endearment, but rather a cautious attempt to state an inescapable truth. Just his name — that word alone — was like a stab that pierced deep into his heart.
“No!” Louis interrupted, jumping up from the couch and approaching Harry as if he could bridge the distance between them with his mere presence. His heart raced and his hands trembled with excitement, but he forced himself to stand firm. “Don't say that. Please. We can fix this. Whatever's between us, we can fix it. We always have done before, haven't we?"
“It's not that simple,” Harry said quietly. His voice almost broke, and Louis felt his heart constrict in pain.
'It's never easy,' Louis retorted. His voice grew louder, as if he wanted to grab the tension in the air and rip it apart. 'This, what we have, it's worth it, damn it! Harry, I love you. You can't tell me you don't feel the same way.'
Harry ran his hands through his hair, rubbing it nervously — a tic that Louis knew so well. “Of course I love you,” he finally said, his voice sounding forced. 'That was never the problem. But I... I feel lost. Feeling empty.”
“Empty?” Louis' voice broke, and his knees went weak. 'How can you feel empty when we're together? We're a team, Harry! We've been through hell to get to this point. We've achieved it against all odds. Remember: you and I against the rest of the world. Is it all suddenly worthless?'
Harry closed his eyes, hoping that these words would break through the walls he had built around his heart. When he opened them again, however, all he saw was pain and determination. 'This isn't sudden, Louis. It's been going on for months. We... We've lost each other, and I don't know if we'll ever find each other again.'
Louis stared at him as if Harry had just punched him in the face. “That’s not true,” he whispered. His hands clenched into fists, and tears ran down his cheeks. “You’re only saying that because it’s easier to run away than to stay and fight.”
“It's not about running away!” Harry retorted loudly. His voice cracked with frustration and excitement. “I’ve been fighting, Louis. I've tried for so long, but I don't know how to save us anymore.'
“You don’t have to do it alone,” Louis pleaded, stepping closer and reaching for Harry’s hand. Harry pulled his hand back, though, as if the touch had burnt him. Louis flinched, and the wound this gesture tore in him felt like a deep, bleeding hole.
'Maybe we should... take a break,' Harry finally said. His words were little more than a whisper, but they echoed in Louis's ears like thunder.
“A break?” Louis repeated incredulously. His eyes widened, and he laughed bitterly. 'So that's your solution? A break? You know it won't stop there. Do you actually mean it's over?"
Harry's gaze avoided his. “I don’t know what else to do.”
“Just tell me you don’t love me anymore,” Louis demanded, his voice trembling with anger and sadness. 'Say it to my face, Harry, and I'll let you go. But be honest.'
Harry's head shot up, and tears glimmered in his eyes for a moment before running down his cheeks. ‘I can't say that,’ he finally confessed, barely audible. 'Because it's not true. I love you, Louis. But sometimes love isn't enough.'
Hearing these words, Louis finally broke down. He staggered backwards as though Harry had hit him, then fell heavily onto the sofa. His breathing became erratic, and reality seemed to blur before his eyes. “How can you say such a thing?” he whispered, his throat choked with pain.
“Because it's the truth,” Harry replied, his own face lined with pain. 'I don't want you to think it's your fault. It's... I don't know what's wrong with me. But I have to figure it out on my own.'
“Alone”, Louis repeated bitterly. 'Of course you do. You've always been so good at solving things on your own, haven't you?'
Harry screwed up his face as if Louis had hit him with those words. “That's not fair.”
‘Fair?’ Louis exclaimed, jumping up again. 'What's fair about this conversation, Harry? That you just walk away and leave me with the broken pieces? Are you treating our marriage like an old piece of furniture that's taking up too much space for you?'
Harry fell silent.
The silence was deafening, broken only by the soft tapping of the rain on the windows. Louis tried to calm down, but his heart was pounding wildly, and he couldn't stop the tears flowing.
“All right,” he finally said, crossing his arms in front of his chest as if to protect himself from the pain. 'If you really think this is the end, then go. Go and find whatever it is you're looking for. But don't say I didn't try everything.'
Harry's lips trembled, and for a moment it looked as if he was going to say something. But he only shook his head. 'I'm sorry, Louis. More than you'll ever know.'
He reached for the bag he had packed that morning and slung it over his shoulder. As he walked to the door, he paused briefly and turned halfway around. His expression was full of pain and regret.
“I never wanted it to end like this. Never,” he said quietly before opening the door and stepping out into the cold, rainy night.
With the sound of the door slamming shut, Louis collapsed for good. His legs gave way, and he fell to the floor, burying his face in his hands. First timidly, then uncontrollably, a quiet sob broke out of him. The pain travelling through his body was almost palpable.
Apart from his crying and the rain beating against the windows, the flat was silent. Every breath seemed to tear his chest apart. All that he had fought for, all that they had built together, was shattered in that moment.
Harry was gone.
Louis felt as if he had lost a part of himself.
Notes:
A deep stab in our Larry heart right at the beginning.
What do you think? Is it worth continuing the story?
Chapter Text
Love doesn't just disappear. You can bury it, forget it or banish it, but it always finds a way back into the light.
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In the days following Harry's departure, Louis' thoughts were shrouded in a fog, enveloping him in a gloomy silence. The last four weeks had been an emotional rollercoaster – or rather, a constant downward spiral – for Louis. He had no idea what day of the week, or even what time of day, it was unless he checked his smartphone. The flat that had once been their home now felt like a museum full of memories. Every room and piece of furniture reminded him of Harry. He remembered the laughter that had filled the walls, the quiet moments cuddled up together on the couch, and the deep conversations they had had in the kitchen. It was as if life within these four walls had been frozen forever while he had been left behind alone.
Louis' routine had been completely disrupted. The coffee often sat untouched in the machine until it became cold and bitter. The television ran for hours, but the images and sounds failed to penetrate him; they were just dull background noise, providing no distraction. His friends sent him messages and called him, asking him to get in touch, but he ignored them all. How could he explain that his heart felt shattered, as if he had fallen into a vortex of sadness and confusion from which there was no escape?
One particularly grey afternoon, Louis sat in her bedroom holding Harry's old T-shirt. The soft, worn fabric still faintly carried Harry's familiar scent. Louis' fingers slid over the fabric and tears welled up in his eyes. He closed his eyes briefly and imagined Harry was still there, smiling at him and reassuring him. However, reality quickly caught up with him; the silence around him was overwhelming.
One day, Louis heard someone unlocking the door. He quickly unwrapped himself from his blanket burrito and ran to the door, hoping it was Harry. But when the door opened and he saw Niall carrying a crate of beer and a pizza, he was overcome with sadness. “Oh, it's you. I thought you were...”
“Hey, mate,” said Niall quietly, looking at Louis apologetically. “I thought I'd bring you something to eat.” He put the crate and pizza on the table and sat down next to Louis. “I'm really worried about you. If you want to talk, I'm here.”
Niall stayed all evening, talking to Louis even though he didn't say much. Louis knew that Niall just wanted to support him, and that helped more than he had expected. Louis was reminded that he wasn't alone and that there were people who cared about him and looked out for him.
He knew he couldn't carry on like this. Eventually, he would have to face the world without Harry, even though the thought weighed heavily on his chest.
A few days later, Louis found himself in a small café in Camden. It was a place he and Harry had often visited when they first fell in love. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the sweet scent of cinnamon and pastries in the air. Louis had hoped this place would calm him and offer him some comfort. But when he remembered Harry's smile as he ordered his favourite muffin here once, all he felt was a sharp pain in his chest. The overwhelming feeling that rose up inside him tightened his throat.
“Louis?”
The familiar voice snapped him out of his thoughts. When he looked up, he saw that it was Gemma, Harry's older sister, standing in front of him. Her face was worried and her eyes searched his gaunt face for answers.
'Gemma,' Louis murmured, sitting up and trying to maintain his composure. But he couldn't deny the heaviness in his heart.
Without asking permission, she pulled up a chair and sat down opposite him. Gemma had always been direct and courageous; someone who wouldn't just stand by and watch when something was wrong.
“How are you?” she asked quietly.
Louis couldn't help but laugh bitterly. “How do you think I am?”
Gemma placed her hand on his, and the warm touch made him believe, if only for a moment, that he still had someone who understood him.
“I know it's hard,” she said gently. ‘But I’m worried about both of you. Harry won't talk to me. He ignores my calls and it's driving me crazy.”
“He won't talk to anyone,” Louis replied, shaking his head. “He's completely withdrawn. I don't know where he is or what he's doing. It's as if he's cut me out of his life completely.”
Louis's heart ached at the thought of Harry wandering around in the darkness, feeling as lost as he was.
Gemma was silent for a moment, her face a mask of concern. “That's not Harry,” she said finally. “He would never just abandon you like that. I know my brother, and I know he wouldn't do that voluntarily. I can't say for sure, but lately I've had the feeling that something's not right. It's as if someone is trying to drive you apart.”
Louis's heart skipped a beat at these words and a shiver ran down his spine, but he forced himself to remain calm. ‘What do you mean?’
He frowned. The thought was absurd, but he couldn't quite ignore it. In recent months, he had often had the feeling that something was wrong. There were things Harry had said that didn't make sense, and moments when he withdrew without explanation.
“You mean someone has influence over him?” Louis asked cautiously, a queasy feeling spreading through him.
Gemma nodded. “It's just a guess, But I'll find out.'
The next few days were a whirlwind of research and conversations. Gemma was determined to uncover the truth, and Louis joined her in this determination. Together, they scoured old messages, spoke to mutual friends and scoured the internet for any clues that might explain what had happened to Harry.
Night after night of questions and frustrating dead ends passed, until one evening Gemma suddenly froze in front of Louis's laptop. Her face was pale and her eyes were wide with horror.
“What's wrong?” Louis asked, stepping closer, his curiosity piqued.
Gemma turned the screen towards him and, when Louis read the message, his stomach clenched. It was an anonymous email to Harry. The message was short but clear: 'You know what will happen if you don't leave. Think of Louis.’
Louis's hands clenched into fists. "That's a threat," he said quietly, his voice trembling with anger. “Someone forced him to leave me.”
Gemma nodded. “It must have been. But who?'
Louis thought back over the last few months. Who would want to break them up? Who would go so far as to threaten Harry? The answer wasn't immediately obvious, but Louis knew they couldn't give up.
“We have to find Harry,” he finally said. There was determination in his voice. “I won't abandon him, Gemma. Not when he's going through this.'
Gemma put her hand on his shoulder, her eyes sparkling with courage and determination. It was the same sparkle that Harry had when he really wanted something. “We’ll find him, Louis. We'll find him and we'll find out who did this.’
The days passed and they continued their search. Louis felt like a man on a mission — every step was another attempt to save Harry and bring him back. Their calls and questions finally led to a small clue. A friend of Harry's had recently seen him in a remote cottage outside London, where he was visiting an old acquaintance.
Far enough away to be alone, but still close enough to be nearby.
On that rainy afternoon, as they drove there, Louis's heart grew heavy. The possibility of seeing Harry again filled him with both hope and fear. What if Harry didn't want to see him? What if he didn't want to hear the truth?
Gemma drove while Louis shifted nervously in his seat. The rain drummed against the windscreen and the foggy road stretched out ahead of them. With every drop that fell, his unease intensified, and with every bend in the road, he became lost in his thoughts.
“Are you ready?” Gemma asked when they finally stopped in front of the small house.
Louis nodded, even though he felt anything but ready. “I have to be.”
The cottage was small and simple, hidden behind tall, rustling trees. Louis's hands trembled as he knocked on the door. Minutes that felt like hours passed before it opened.
Harry stood there, looking pale and exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes that seemed to be a memorial to sleepless nights. The moment seemed to stop time. He looked frightened.
“Lou?” he whispered, as if unsure whether he was dreaming, as if the truth around him was blurred.
“Haz,” Louis said, his voice firm even though he was trembling inside. ‘We need to talk!’
Notes:
What do you think? Who tried to break them up, and does it seem as though they have succeeded so far?
Please leave your votes and comments. I appreciate every single one!
Chapter Text
As long as we carry the light within us and are willing to fight for the love that unites us, darkness cannot defeat us.
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Harry's green eyes searched Louis's face, as if he could find the answers to all his questions there. Rain fell quietly from the edge of the small cottage's roof, pattering steadily onto the rusty metal canopy below. The cold November air crept in through the open door, causing Harry's breath to rise in small white clouds in front of him. For a moment, the world seemed to stand still as the two men looked at each other; both were too overwhelmed by their emotions to do anything but stare.
Louis was the first to break the silence. “Are you going to let me in, or are we going to stand here all night?” His voice sounded harsh, rougher than he had intended.
Harry hesitated, then opened the door a crack and stepped aside. “Come in,” he murmured. His voice was soft and almost broken, as if it had lost all its strength.
Louis stepped inside, followed by Gemma, who stayed discreetly in the background. The cottage was simply furnished, almost sparse. There was a small kitchen, a worn-out sofa, and a table with a few scattered papers – it was a far cry from the home they had once shared.
“What are you doing here?” Harry finally asked, turning to face them. He stood with a defensive posture, as if preparing for a confrontation.
‘What do you think?’ Louis replied, putting his hands on his hips. ‘I’m here to get answers, Harry. You left without telling me the truth. But now I know there's more to it than that. I'm not leaving until you explain everything to me.'
Harry's face turned pale, and his eyes flickered over to Gemma, who was looking at him intently. ‘Gemma told you I was here?’ he asked.
“Gemma helped me find out the truth,” Louis corrected him sharply. “We know about the email, Harry. We know someone threatened you. So, stop making me look like an idiot and tell me what on earth is going on!”
Harry's lips trembled, and he looked as if he were about to break down. Then he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and said quietly, 'I wanted to protect you, Louis.'
Louis paused at these words. "Protect me?!" He shook his head as if he didn't understand. “How the hell is leaving you supposed to protect me?”
Harry's voice was little more than a whisper when he replied. “Because they said they would hurt you if I stayed.”
The truth of those words hit Louis like a punch in the gut. Louis stared at Harry, unable to say anything. Next to him, Gemma sucked in her breath sharply.
“Who are ‘they’?” she finally asked. Her voice was cold and sharp.
Harry took a step back, as if afraid to answer the question. His hands trembled as he shoved them into the pockets of his jeans. “I don't know exactly,” he confessed. “It was anonymous. But they knew things — about us, about you, Louis. Things no one should know.”
‘What kind of things?’ Louis pressed. His patience was wearing thin.
Harry looked at him desperately. “Personal things. Where you go when you're out alone... They even sent me photos. Of you.”
Louis's stomach clenched. The thought that someone had been watching him was extremely unsettling. “And that was your plan?” he asked. His voice trembled with anger. “Just to disappear without telling me anything? To let me believe that you didn't want me anymore?'
Harry ran his hand over his face as if he could wipe away the tension. “What was I supposed to do, Louis? I couldn't risk anything happening to you. If I had stayed, they might have...’
“You should have talked to me!” Louis interrupted him vehemently. His voice was loud and full of emotions he could no longer hold back. “You should have trusted me! We could have got through this together, just like we've got through everything else together.'
“I was afraid they'd notice if you picked up even the slightest hint,” said Harry. ‘Even Gemma didn't know anything for sure. I thought the less you knew, the safer you'd be.'
Harry looked at him, his eyes filled with a mixture of regret and pain. ‘I didn't want to take it out on you. I thought it would be better this way…”
‘Better?’ Louis repeated bitterly. ‘You broke my heart, Harry. You left me alone without so much as a word of explanation, without giving me the slightest chance to understand you. And now you want to tell me that you only did it to protect me?”
Gemma, who had been listening silently until then, stepped forward. “Harry, this isn't just your problem,” she said resolutely. ‘Whoever did this is targeting both of you. You have to tackle this together; otherwise, these people will win.'
Harry looked at her as if he were truly understanding what she was saying for the first time. His shoulders slumped, and he sank heavily onto the sofa. ‘I don't know where to start,’ he admitted.
Louis paused briefly as if he wanted to say something, but then he turned silently to one side and walked across the small living room. His thoughts were racing. What if this was all just a game? What if it was even more dangerous than Harry had admitted? Yet when Louis looked at Harry, he didn't see a liar. He saw a broken man who had done everything he could to protect him.
“Let's start with the truth,” he said finally, his voice calmer this time. ‘Tell me everything, Harry. Every detail.”
And Harry began to speak. His confession was hesitant, and he often had to pause to collect his thoughts. He recounted how the emails had started months ago, initially harmless but increasingly threatening. At first, he had ignored them, but when the threats became more specific, he panicked.
“They knew where we lived,” Harry said in a barely audible whisper. “They wrote that they would hurt you if I didn't leave. They sent photos of you, Louis. Photos of you on your way to see your siblings, in the music studio and in the cafe. I didn't know what to do.”
Louis shook his head. ‘And your solution was to run away? Why didn't you go to the police?”
Harry's lips twisted into a bitter smile. “Because they said they had someone in the police force, and I couldn't trust anyone.”
Gemma snorted contemptuously. ‘That sounds like a battle for power. They wanted to isolate and control you. But that doesn't mean we can't do anything.'
"What do you suggest?” Harry asked.
‘I know someone who works for a cybersecurity start-up,’ Gemma replied. 'They specialise in tracking down anonymous threats, even from the dark web. If anyone can help us, it's him.’
Harry looked at her doubtfully. ‘What if they've covered everything up? VPNs, fake email addresses, things like that?’
‘Then we'll look for the smallest mistake,’ Gemma replied calmly. “Nobody's perfect. Maybe they left a trace somewhere.'
The next few hours were a chaotic jumble of plans and discussions. Louis and Gemma considered how to trace the emails and whether they could find hackers or IT experts to help them. Harry hesitated at first, but gradually he began to engage with the issue too.
By the end of the night, they had a plan. Gemma would talk to her old friend, while Louis and Harry searched through old emails and messages for clues.
Suddenly, Louis had the feeling that he wasn't alone. It was an indefinable feeling that sent a shiver down his spine. Perhaps it was just the tension from the last few hours, but there seemed to be something different in the air. Somewhere in the darkness of the house, behind a window in a corner of the room, he sensed a flickering presence, as if they were being watched. Louis didn't want to say it out loud, but he found himself looking at the door and back again involuntarily.
“I don’t know if this will work,” Harry said when they were finally alone. Gemma had gone to take care of her contacts.
Louis sat down next to him, and they fell silent for a moment.
“I know this is all too much,” Louis said. ‘I need a moment to process it myself. But one thing I know for sure is that I won't lose you again.’
Harry's eyes filled with tears, and he squeezed Louis's hand. “I don’t know if I deserve your forgiveness.”
‘But you do,’ Louis replied firmly. ‘But we have to fight. For both of us.'
Harry nodded, and for the first time in months, a glimmer of hope returned to his eyes.
Notes:
So now we know what's going on.
Why did Harry leave? What do you think about it?
Was he right not to involve Louis and break his heart?
Chapter Text
Some shadows of the past do not return to make peace; they come to test us. However, enduring love becomes stronger than any darkness.
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As the first rays of sunlight illuminated the cottage, the morning dawned grey and quiet. Louis lay awake on the old sofa, his head in his hands. Next to him was a half-empty cup of cold coffee. He had hardly slept. His mind was racing with thoughts and questions, and despite the faint glimmer of hope that seeing Harry again had given him, his heart still ached.
Louis had looked into the bedroom again and again during the night. The door was ajar, but every time he mustered the courage to go in, an invisible wall held him back. Several times he had actually got up, taken a few steps towards the door, and then stopped again, holding his breath and looking down. What could he say? What could he possibly do to mend the rift that had opened up between them?
During the night, Louis had heard Harry crying quietly but incessantly. It had been hard not to just go to him, pull him into his arms, and tell him that everything would be all right. But Louis knew that words would not be enough. The wounds between them were deep, and the threat hanging over them was real.
At around four in the morning, he got up again, creeping barefoot across the creaking parquet floor. His hand was already on the doorframe, his fingers lightly touching the wood. The dark room behind it was silent; only Harry's quiet breathing could be heard. Louis closed his eyes and took a deep breath. But again, he didn't dare. He returned to the sofa and cursed himself for his cowardice.
Later that afternoon, Gemma entered the cottage purposefully with a large bag, and her eyes sparkled with determination.
“I spoke to my friend,” she began, throwing her bag on the table and taking off her coat. "He works for a security company. He says we can trace the emails, but it will take some time."
"How much time?" asked Louis, turning to her.
“A few days, maybe a week,” Gemma replied. "He said he couldn't promise anything because the senders probably covered their tracks well. But he's good at what he does.”
Harry came closer, his eyes framed by dark shadows. "And what do we do in the meantime? Just wait?”
Gemma shook her head. “No, we keep looking. There are always clues, no matter how small. I want to see all the emails, messages, and photos you have. Something has to help us."
Even though they spent hours searching through emails, messages and photos, Louis found himself drifting off again and again. He kept returning to that moment in the night when Harry had cried quietly and to all the moments before that when he had said and done nothing. He felt a deep sense of guilt and pressure, but also fear. Fear of making things worse. Fear of not being enough.
The threatening emails were frighteningly precise. They described not only Louis’s daily routine but also intimate details of their lives. Things that only someone very close to them could know.
"This is no coincidence," Gemma finally said, leaning back. She was holding an email that was particularly disturbing. It mentioned specific places that Louis and Harry had been, which were not known to the public. “This is someone who knows you.”
Harry looked at her, his brow furrowed. "But who? We don't have any enemies. No one would do something like this to us.”
“Are you sure?” Louis asked quietly. "Think about it, Harry. Is there anyone from your past who hates you? Someone who was jealous of us?"
Harry fell silent, his gaze falling to the floor. After a few minutes, he finally said quietly, “There was someone...”
Louis's heart sank. “Who?”
“Nick”, Harry replied, his voice barely audible. "He was... an ex-boyfriend. Before you.”
Louis felt a twinge in his chest but forced himself to remain calm. ‘And why do you think he might have something to do with it?’
Harry sighed and rubbed his temples. “It wasn't a good breakup. He was controlling. When I broke up with him, he didn't take it well. He tried to win me back, and when that didn't work, he got angry. But that was years ago, Louis. I thought he had changed.”
Gemma leaned forward. “Has he tried to contact you recently?”
Harry nodded slowly. “He sent me a message a few months ago. He said that he had seen me by chance and wanted to talk. I didn't reply.”
"And when did the threatening emails start?" Gemma asked sharply.
Harry looked at her, his eyes widening as he realised the connection. “Shortly after that.”
The possibility that Nick was behind all this brought a new dynamic to their investigation. Gemma immediately began combing through his online profiles while Louis and Harry looked through the old messages they had received from him.
“He's always been a manipulator,” Harry said quietly, staring at his phone. “He always belittled me and made me feel worthless if I didn't stay with him.”
Louis put a hand on Harry's knee. 'You're worth more than he could ever imagine,' he said softly. ‘Don't let him get power over you again.’
Harry nodded, but his gaze was still filled with doubt. The touch of Louis's hand on his knee made his heart pound.
That evening, Gemma finally found what she was looking for. She held up her mobile phone and showed him a photo. “He recently posted a picture of it. It shows a place that looks exactly like the one he described in his emails.”
Louis stared at the picture. It showed an abandoned warehouse covered in graffiti. In the background was a street that looked vaguely familiar to him. “That's near Shoreditch,” he said finally.
“Exactly,” said Gemma. “I have the address. If Nick is really there, we can confront him.'
“But what if he's not?” Harry asked hesitantly.
Louis looked at him, his eyes sparkling with determination. "Then we’ll find out who it was. But we can't just sit here and do nothing."
That night, they drove to Shoreditch. The streets were quiet; only the wind and the distant hum of traffic broke the silence. The warehouse was as deserted as it had appeared in the photo. Graffiti covered the walls, and the rusty gate hung crookedly on its hinges.
“Be careful,” Gemma warned as she got out of the car. She carried a torch, which she pointed into the darkness.
Louis and Harry followed her, both tense and alert. The hall was silent, except for the sound of water dripping from the ceiling. The air was heavy with the smell of mould and old metal, and every step echoed through the room.
“There’s no one here,” Harry finally said, slumping his shoulders.
"Maybe", Gemma murmured, shining the torch on some papers lying on the floor. She knelt down and picked them up. Her face changed when she saw the contents. “These are copies of the threatening emails.”
Louis approached, his heart pounding. "That means he was here."
Before they could continue talking, they heard a noise. Footsteps were approaching. All three of them turned around, and Louis's heart skipped a beat when he saw a silhouette coming through the entrance.
“Well, well, well,” said a deep voice. "Who do we have here?"
It was Nick. His eyes sparkled coldly, and he wore a crooked smile.
“Nick,” Harry said, his voice trembling with fear and anger. “What's this?”
Nick shrugged and came closer. “I just wanted to have a little fun,” he said casually. “But you three are making it really easy for me.”
Louis clenched his hands into fists. “This isn't fun, Nick. What have you done?”
Nick's smile disappeared and his expression darkened. “I showed you what happens when you ignore me, Harry. Nobody ignores me. And you...” He turned his gaze to Louis. “You never had the right to take him away from me.”
Gemma stepped forward, holding the torch like a weapon. “You’ll pay for this, Nick. Don't think you'll get away with it."
Nick laughed, a cold, menacing sound. “We'll see,” he said, turning and disappearing into the darkness.
Louis, Harry, and Gemma were left behind, knowing the fight was far from over. But one thing was clear: they would not give up. Not as long as they were together.
Notes:
What are your opinions?
What would you have done?
Please leave comments and votes.
Chapter 5: Together?
Notes:
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Sometimes, courage begins not with a roar, but with a quiet whisper. 'I will no longer be afraid.'
☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆
Chapter Text
The journey back from the abandoned warehouse was filled with an oppressive silence. Gemma sat at the wheel, her fingers clenched around the steering wheel as though she needed to hold on to it to stop herself from breaking down. Her eyes were fixed on the road, and her shoulders were tense. Louis and Harry sat next to each other in the back seat, neither of them looking at the other. The world outside rushed past the windows: blurred lights, dark facades and the dull hum of tyres on asphalt.
Louis's hand rested reassuringly on Harry's knee: calm, warm and heavy. No grand gesture – just an anchor. Harry stared at their intertwined fingers. His gaze was empty, as if he could find the answers he was desperately seeking in the lines of his own palm.
The confrontation with Nick had confirmed their worst fears – not only was he behind the threats, but he was also unpredictable and dangerous. It was no longer a game. It was deadly serious.
The air between them had changed; it had become thicker. It was no longer silence out of anger but out of the knowledge of how close they had come to the edge.
When they finally arrived at their street, even the familiar old building seemed strange. The light in the stairwell flickered, mirroring her inner trembling. Inside, Harry flopped heavily onto the sofa as if he was finally letting go. He buried his hands in his hair.
“What do we do now?” he asked quietly, almost tonelessly. His voice sounded as if he had been silent for too long.
Gemma slowly took off her jacket, threw it over the back of the chair, and put her bag on the table. “We’re going to the police,” she said resolutely. “With everything we have — the emails, the photos, and the fact that we met Nick at the warehouse — we have enough to justify an investigation.”
Harry shook his head almost imperceptibly. “He said he had contacts in the police. What if that's true? What if they don't believe us? What if the evidence just disappears?'
Louis sat down next to Harry, acknowledging his presence without being intrusive. He placed a firm but non-demanding hand on Harry's shoulder. His gaze was calm and almost tender.
“Then we have to find someone who will believe us. We can't let him control us any longer. He's already gone too far, Harry. If we stay silent now, we're only making it easier for him. We're not giving up. Not now. Not anymore.'
Harry looked up and searched Louis's eyes. He looked exhausted and drained, but there was also something new in his gaze: confidence. Maybe just a spark, but it was there.
Gemma nodded in agreement. “We have to be smart about this. My contact in cyber security gave me a name: Detective Inspector Elena Markham. She's based outside our region and has a reputation for integrity. If anyone will listen to us, it's her.”
Harry closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and then nodded slowly. ‘OK, but we'll only do this with her. And we'll be careful.’
Louis's hand slowly slid from Harry's shoulder to his hand. They cautiously intertwined their fingers, like two people getting used to each other again.
The next morning, they drove to a police station far outside the city and far from the area where Nick might have contacts. The building was plain: a grey concrete block with peeling paint that smelt of disinfectant, cold coffee and files. The receptionist led them into a small office whose windows were covered with tape to protect against prying eyes.
A dark-haired woman in an anthracite-coloured trouser suit was waiting there. The desk was covered with neat stacks of files. She stood up as they all entered.
“Inspector Markham,” she said, shaking hands with each of them. Her voice sounded calm and professional, but not cold. 'Gemma has given me a rough overview. Now I want to hear everything from you.”
Louis and Harry took turns to speak. Sometimes Harry faltered and Louis seamlessly took over, while Gemma added technical details. She described the anonymous surveillance, the threatening emails and the gruelling uncertainty, as well as the confrontation at the warehouse. Rather than a rigid report, it was a vivid, emotional puzzle of fear, disappointment and the desire to finally fight back.
Markham listened attentively, taking notes without interrupting. Only when they had all finished did she say, “If Nick is really behind these threats, it's a serious crime. But to arrest him, we need solid evidence. The emails are a start, but we have to prove that they came from him.”
‘My friend, the IT expert, is already working on tracing the email headers,’ said Gemma. “He's already found some traces.”
Markham nodded. “Good. If we can link the digital evidence to the physical evidence, we'll be one step closer.” Did you bring anything that directly incriminates Nick?’
Louis thought for a moment, then replied, ‘There were printouts of the threatening emails in the warehouse – the same ones Harry received.’
Markham raised an eyebrow. “That could be crucial. If we can find fingerprints or DNA traces on them, that would be direct evidence.”
The next few days dragged along slowly. While Markham's team secured the evidence in the warehouse, Gemma's boyfriend continued to work on the digital trail.
Louis and Harry spent a lot of time together. Sometimes they didn't speak for hours; sometimes they argued about trivial things. But in between, something was blossoming – something they had almost lost: a sense of familiarity. Closeness.
In the evenings, they would often sit side by side on the sofa with the lights dimmed, a glass of wine in their hands and a TV series playing in the background that neither of them was really watching. One evening, with the TV on mute, Harry suddenly said: “I’m so sorry, Louis. For everything. For the silence, for walking away, and for the fear I caused you.”
Louis looked at Harry and reached for his hand. “I know you're sorry, Harry. But you don't have to take this on alone. I don't want you to. I want you to need me; I want to help you. We're a team, OK?”
Harry nodded, tears welling up in his eyes and his lips trembling. “Together?”
“Forever.”
On the fourth day, the call came. Markham answered in a bright voice. “We've got him. The fingerprints on the documents in the warehouse belong to Nick Grimshaw.’ The emails came from a laptop registered in his name. That's enough for an arrest warrant.”
Gemma turned on the speakerphone. “Does that mean you can arrest him?”
“Yes, but we have to warn you – we suspect he's found out about the investigation. He's gone into hiding.'
‘What?’ Harry blurted out.
‘Don't panic,’ Markham said calmly. ‘We believe he may try to contact you directly. So, here's what I suggest: we lure him out of hiding.'
The plan was simple but risky. Harry would appear alone in a café in the city centre. Meanwhile, Markham's team would lie in wait, ready to pounce at the crucial moment.
Louis was strongly opposed. “It's too dangerous!” he hissed as they discussed the plan.
But Harry looked at him calmly. “I have to do it. For our sake. So it can finally be over.’
In his mind, he added, 'So we can be like we used to be.'
The café was warm and quiet — almost soothing — an absurd setting for such a plan. Harry sat by the window with a steaming cup of tea in front of him. His hands were wrapped around it. Outside, it was already dusk and raining lightly. Inside, everything was in place: discreet security guards, cameras and a locked exit.
An hour passed. Then Nick entered the café. He moved calmly, too calmly, like a predator on the prowl. His gaze fell coolly on Harry, and he smiled falsely and venomously.
“Brave of you to come here,” he said quietly, sitting down opposite Harry.
“I’m tired of your fear tactics,” said Harry. His voice trembled, but he didn't look away from Nick.
Nick's expression darkened. ‘You'd better ask yourself what you're risking right now, Harry.’
Before he could continue, Markham and her team stormed into the café.
“Nick Grimshaw, you are under arrest for stalking, threatening behaviour, and multiple counts of coercion,” Markham shouted, as two officers wrestled him to the ground. He struggled and cursed, but the handcuffs clicked shut.
Outside, in the van, Harry fell into Louis’ arms. Louis held him tight, as if he never wanted to let him go again. His heart was pounding wildly. “You idiot,” he whispered. “You could have died.”
Harry buried his face in Louis’ neck, breathing in his warm, familiar scent – like home. “But now he can't hurt us anymore.”
And that was true. For the first time in months, they could breathe deeply again. It wasn't all over – not really. But it was a start. And they were no longer alone.
Chapter 6: Every single day
Notes:
Sometimes, healing begins not with grand gestures, but with a quiet morning coffee and a gentle touch across the table, accompanied by the realisation that you have finally arrived.
Chapter Text
On a Saturday morning, the sun had not yet fully risen as Harry and Louis sat down together at the kitchen table. The last few weeks had been chaotic, with a constant stream of investigations and interrogations, not to mention the thrill of finally tracking down Nick. Now that it was all over, however, a strange calm had descended – a silence that was neither good nor bad, just 'there'.
Harry stared into his full coffee cup, his hands clasped tightly around the hot porcelain. It was as if he wanted to stop time and preserve the feeling of that moment. A feeling of security.
Louis sat across from him, watching him intently as if he could see through the calmness to the last remnants of fear and uncertainty in Harry's eyes. “You’re still not really here, are you?” he asked quietly.
Harry flinched, as if he hadn't expected the question. He then fixed his gaze on Louis. “I think it's just... surreal. I never thought it would end like this, with him actually being arrested.”
'It's over, Harry. For good,’ Louis said. Although his voice sounded calm, there was a noticeable determination in it. 'We won. Now we can build on all of this. Whatever that means.”
Harry nodded, but his thoughts still seemed to be racing. In recent months, he had hardly been able to think clearly. The nightmare with Nick, the constant fear of not knowing who was behind the threats – it had all exhausted and unsettled him. Now that it was all over, however, he was faced with the same void he had always known, which he had filled time and again with work, distraction and his relationship with Louis. But now? What would he do when the stress and pressure were finally gone?
Of course, Louis noticed. “You know you don’t always have to fight everything, right? You don't have to prove to yourself constantly that you can do everything on your own.”
“I know,” Harry whispered. 'I know, but...'
Louis placed a hand on Harry's and squeezed it gently. “You’re not alone, Harry. I'm with you. We're together.'
Harry looked up into his husband's eyes. In that moment, he found the clarity he had been searching for for so long. Maybe it was the realisation that they had overcome what had happened to them together. Or maybe it was just Louis' gaze that gave him all the answers he needed.
“I love you,” Harry said quietly, more to himself than to Louis.
Louis smiled; although gentle, his smile was also full of warmth and deep understanding. “I love you too, Harry. I love you too.”
The days after Nick's arrest passed more quickly than expected. With the help of Detective Markham, the case was finally closed, and Nick had been remanded in custody for threatening and harassing behaviour. Harry felt relieved, but the emotional exhaustion was still palpable. Although they had won, they now had to learn to live with the aftermath of the last few months — and, above all, how to get their lives back on track without dwelling on the past.
Louis suggested going away for the weekend. “We could go somewhere where no one knows us,” he suggested. “Away from it all. Just the two of us.'
Harry hesitated at first because he still found it hard to leave his worries behind. However, when he saw how excited Louis was, he realised that he didn't just have to let go for himself. Maybe Louis needed this break too, as he seemed to need the peace and quiet. Maybe it was exactly what they both needed. A new beginning.
A few days later, they found themselves in a small village nestled in the hills of Cornwall. It was quiet here, away from the tourist crowds, with a few small cafés and shops that retained the charm of a bygone era. This was a welcome change from the hectic streets of London, and the fresh country air did them both good.
“Look at that view,” said Louis, as they stood at the edge of a cliff and gazed out at the vast ocean. “It's as if you could leave everything behind.”
Harry stepped beside him and gazed at the endless blue ocean stretching out before them. It was a peaceful moment, the kind you rarely find in everyday life. The waves lapped gently against the rocks, and the wind carried the scents of salt and fresh earth.
‘It feels good,’ Harry said after a long pause, finally breathing a sigh of relief. ‘I had almost forgotten how much I need moments like this.’
‘Me too’, Louis agreed, putting his arm around Harry's waist. 'It's strange, but in the peace and quiet here, I can see more clearly. ' No constant emails, no threats. Just you and me. We can focus on ourselves.’
Harry nodded. “We should have moments like this more often. Maybe not always here, but we should always remember that there's more to life than work and fear.'
They stood there for a long time, hardly speaking, but the silence was pleasant. It wasn't the uncomfortable, oppressive silence they had known before; it connected them. They were no longer under threat, no longer in the shadow of the past. They were here, in this moment, and that was all that mattered.
The next day, they strolled through the streets of the small village. They took their time browsing the shops, and Harry couldn't help tapping Louis on the arm repeatedly to show him things he liked: an antique lamp, a strange piece of pottery and an old music cassette, for example.
“You know, it took me a long time to realise that I need to appreciate these simple things,” said Harry after a while, as they entered a small café and sat down at a table. ‘It's not always about having more or losing yourself in work. Sometimes it's about what you have right now.’
Louis looked at him thoughtfully. ‘You're right. Maybe we both needed more time to ourselves.’
Harry grinned. “You’re pretty much the smartest person I know. You've convinced me.”
Louis laughed, then paused. “You know, Harry... I've never really thought about what I want for the future. But right now, in this moment, I just want more of this peace.”
Harry's smile softened as he said, 'Maybe one day we'll buy this café or build our own little house by the sea.'
He placed his hand on Louis's and squeezed it tightly. “And I’ll give you that. Every single day.”
That evening, they sat in their small bedroom, which smelt of lavender and fresh bed linen. Harry sat on the windowsill, and Louis lay half on the bed. The window was open, and cool night air flowed into the room.
“I can't remember the last time I felt so... safe,” Harry said quietly.
Louis stood up, walked over to him and pulled him into a silent embrace. “You never have to feel unsafe again. Not if I can help it.”
They kissed. Tenderly and slowly at first, but soon the tenderness gave way to an excited intensity. Harry pulled Louis onto the bed with him, sinking beneath him as his fingers clawed into Louis's shirt. Their kisses became greedier and deeper, as if they wanted to rediscover each other, not just out of lust, but to reassure themselves that they were still there, still alive. Still alive. Still belonging to each other.
Their clothes fell carelessly to the floor, and soon only their bodies, their movements and their breath filled the silence. This wasn't just sex; it was a silent promise. Every kiss and touch said, "I'll stay with you. I won't leave.'
Exhausted, they lay next to each other, their fingers finding each other as if of their own accord. Louis turned to Harry and whispered, “Promise me you’ll never leave again.”
Harry caressed his cheek and looked at him seriously yet tenderly. ‘I wouldn't know where to go without you.’
The weeks passed, and life slowly returned to normal. Harry took a break from music to gather his thoughts. Sometimes he played just for himself, for the sound alone. No audience, no expectations. Louis withdrew a little to think. He spent hours reading old books, writing and going for long walks. Together, they explored more of Cornwall, went hiking and took long walks on the beach, enjoying the little pleasures of life. They deserved it after all those dark weeks.
Although the memory of the threat and persecution still lingered, Harry knew they were strong enough to carry on. Perhaps this was the new beginning they needed: not only to leave the past behind but also to grow as a couple and discover the true meaning of freedom and love. Not only to leave the past behind, but also to grow as a couple and discover the true meaning of freedom and love.
‘You know, Harry,’ Louis said one evening as they sat together on the terrace of their little holiday home, looking out at the sea, ‘I think we've learnt more about ourselves than we ever could have imagined.’
'Yes,' Harry replied quietly, looking him in the eye. ‘But I think the best is yet to come.’
This time, they knew it was more than just hope; it was a promise.
Chapter 7: Under Control
Notes:
Sometimes, all you need is one person to remind you that you don't have to walk through the darkness alone – because there will always be someone by your side, even when the path ahead is uncertain.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
It was the first Monday after they returned from Cornwall, and the day began as usual. The sun was already high in the sky when Harry slowly got out of bed, still feeling fatigued from the previous few days. Their time in Cornwall had been good for them both, but now he was back to everyday life, and the creeping pressure of normality weighed heavily on his shoulders.
Louis was already awake, sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee. When he noticed Harry, he smiled lovingly and held out his hand. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” he greeted him gently.
“Morning,” Harry murmured, allowing Louis to pull him towards him and press a tender kiss on his lips before dropping into the chair opposite. He raised an eyebrow when he saw the files on the table. 'Are you immersed in the case again?'
Louis shrugged slightly and pushed the papers aside carelessly. “Actually, I just wanted a moment of peace. But it caught up with me.” His gaze swept over Harry's face as if seeking confirmation.
Harry nodded slowly. He understood. Although they had both tried to recover from the events of the past few months, reality was catching up with them inexorably: Nick's threats, the constant phone calls and that pervasive sense of insecurity – none of that had simply disappeared with a holiday in a coastal village.
'Are you coming with me to the meeting today?' Louis asked suddenly. His voice was quiet and almost cautious, and his eyes remained fixed on Harry. 'I could use some support.' Louis had taken care of everything so that Harry wouldn’t be dragged back into the maelstrom of the past few months.
Harry hesitated. The days in Cornwall had calmed him down a little and given him the feeling that he was back in control of his life. But the thought of having to confront his past again made him feel frozen inside.
‘What exactly is this meeting about?’ he asked.
“It's about closing the case with Nick,” Louis explained. “Just a few formalities, and then they want to show us some details they found during the investigation. They found things from his past that could be important.’
A dark shadow stirred within Harry. Everything in him screamed at him to run away and not look back. But Louis's calming gaze held him back.
“I... I don't know, Louis,' Harry whispered. 'I don't want to go back into that darkness.'
Louis stood up, walked around the table and crouched down next to Harry, taking his hand firmly in both of his. “It's not about reliving the past, Harry. It's about understanding it and then leaving it behind. You're not alone. I'm always here.’
Harry closed his eyes briefly and let Louis's words sink in. He took a deep breath. Finally, he nodded slowly. “OK, I'll come with you.”
The ride to the police station was quiet, but the tension grew noticeably with every kilometre they drove. Harry stared out of the window while Louis held his hand, caressing his skin with his thumb.
When they stopped in front of the building, Harry felt a heavy weight settle on his chest and a tingling sensation in the back of his neck. It was as if the air around him had suddenly become denser, as if he were diving into an old, long-forgotten chapter of his life.
Louis looked at Harry and noticed it immediately, gently reaching for his hand. “Everything will be fine, Harry,” he whispered. 'We'll go in there together, and we'll come out together.'
Harry nodded, even though his throat felt tight.
In Detective Markham's office, she greeted them with a matter-of-fact smile. “Thank you for coming,” she said, closing the door behind them. ‘We have some new information you should know about.’
Harry nodded and sat down close to Louis to seek his warmth. Meanwhile, Markham reached for a stack of papers on her desk. “We’ve discovered that Nick was more deeply involved in criminal networks than we initially thought,” she began. ‘In particular, there are indications of his involvement in human trafficking.’
Harry's heart skipped a beat. Human trafficking. The word made him shiver.
“What does that have to do with us?” Louis asked calmly, discreetly pressing his hand on Harry's thigh to reassure him.
Markham cleared her throat. 'It's a little more complicated than that. We have evidence that Nick repeatedly used Harry's name in his business dealings to gain the trust of certain people. He pretended to be connected to you in order to open certain doors.'
Harry stared at him in disbelief. “What?” His voice sounded rough and strained. “He... used my name?”
“Yes,” Markham confirmed. “But I want to emphasise that you have done nothing wrong. You are a victim of his plan. He saw you as a means to an end, a bargaining chip in case things went wrong.’
Louis immediately wrapped his arm protectively around Harry's shoulders. ‘Stop blaming yourself,’ he murmured in his ear. ‘You didn't do anything.’
Markham nodded. “In fact, it was your fame that gave him the idea in the first place. But we now have enough evidence to prove that you had nothing to do with it.'
Harry breathed shallowly and felt dizzy. Louis pulled him even closer, as if sensing that he needed support.
'It was never your fault,' Louis whispered again, his forehead resting against Harry's. ‘Never forget that.’
Markham continued cautiously. “Nick will be brought to trial. Based on the new evidence, we will charge him with more serious crimes. But we have to assume that there are others involved who we haven't caught yet.”
A slight shiver ran through Harry's body.
Harry closed his eyes for a moment, trying to process the flood of information. The realisation that Nick wasn't the only person behind all this made him nervous. What if he was still in danger? What if there was more that they didn't know about yet?
‘I can't believe it,’ Harry whispered, ‘that he used my name for something like this.’
‘But you're here, standing tall and free,’ said Louis quietly. ‘He couldn't destroy you, Harry, or any of us. He lost. And we're together. That's all that matters.’
Harry turned to Louis and saw the deep, unconditional trust in his eyes. Without thinking, he pulled Louis into an embrace, allowing himself to be supported. Louis held him tightly and rubbed his back reassuringly.
“I love you,” Harry murmured almost inaudibly into Louis's shoulder.
Louis kissed him gently on the temple. “I love you too. And I'll always be with you, no matter what happens.”
After leaving the office, Harry and Louis walked slowly back to the car park. The sun was already disappearing behind the clouds, and the day was drawing to a close. Harry felt empty, as if he had relived the last few months during their conversation, but Louis's presence beside him helped calm the emotional storm.
‘I still can't believe it,’ Harry murmured, leaning against a parked car with Louis, the cool air blowing in their faces. “That Nick just used me like that. For something like that...”
Louis turned to him, placed a hand on his chest, and pulled him gently towards him. 'He couldn't separate us,' he said quietly, his voice full of warmth. ‘He tried to break us up, Harry. But look at us – we're still here. We're stronger.'
Harry nodded, but the words felt strangely distant. The shadow of the past still hung heavily over him. However, when Louis took him in his arms, the darkness seemed a little further away.
“Come on,” Louis said quietly, taking his hand. ‘Let's go home. We need some rest.'
The walk back to their shared home was quiet, accompanied only by the occasional rustle of leaves and crunch of gravel underfoot. When they finally arrived in the living room, the warmth of the house provided a welcome contrast to the cool night air. Louis closed the door behind them and turned to Harry.
“Would you like something to drink?” he asked gently. It was as if he didn't want to let Harry go just yet.
Harry shook his head. “Not really. I just want to be with you.”
Louis' smile was like a comforting ray of light. He took a step towards Harry, placed a hand on his cheek and gently traced his thumb over it. “You're with me, Harry. You're always with me.”
Harry felt the tension slowly slip away as he looked into Louis's eyes. The words they often said to each other felt even more intense at that moment. “I know,” he whispered, gently touching Louis's arm. ‘I know. But...’
Louis moved closer, resting his forehead against Harry's. Their bodies fitted together almost like a puzzle. ‘But?’
‘But sometimes...’ Harry left the sentence hanging in the air and took a deep breath. “Sometimes I'm afraid that the shadows of the past will catch up with me. That they'll always be there.'
Louis' hands found their way to Harry's hips, pulling him closer. ‘The past won't catch up with us,’ he said softly, his voice sounding almost like a promise. 'Not when we're together. We're stronger than that. And I'll always remind you that you're not alone.”
At that moment, Harry felt all his lingering fears slowly dissolve in Louis's presence. Louis was not only the person he loved but also the person who had saved him. A little more every day.
“Let’s just enjoy this moment,” Louis whispered, pulling Harry closer into his arms. “No criminal case. No problems. Just us.'
Harry closed his eyes and sank into Louis' embrace, seeking refuge in it. “I don’t want anything else,” he murmured, resting his head on Louis’s chest. The familiar heartbeat calmed him, its steady rhythm carrying him through everything.
Louis stroked Harry's back gently and evenly, as if to comfort him. In that moment, when the outside world stood still, Harry knew he could share everything with Louis: his fears and doubts, but also his joy and love. Together, they could get through anything.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity and with the room filled only by their quiet breathing, Louis pulled away a little, lifted Harry's chin and looked into his eyes. It was a moment of pure intimacy that needed no words. Just a look that went deep into the heart.
'I love you,' whispered Louis, pressing a gentle kiss on Harry's lips.
Harry replied in a whisper, 'I love you too, more than anything else.'
They stood there, tightly embraced, and for the first time in a long time, everything felt right. The rest of the world could wait; the past could rest. Because, in that moment, there were only the two of them.
Notes:
Now, let's all take a deep breath together.
What has become known about Nick... What are your first thoughts on this?
Chapter 8: Together
Notes:
Even when darkness surrounds us, you are the light that I hold on to.
Chapter Text
Harry sat at the piano in the music room of their house, which was bathed in a warm, soft light. The keys in front of him shimmered like a blank canvas, waiting to be filled with music. However, his thoughts were preoccupied with the events of recent months, weeks and days. The shocking revelations about Nick and Simon from the last few days wouldn't leave him alone. They kept circling in his head like a storm that refused to pass, casting a dark shadow over everything. Since returning from their well-deserved break in Cornwall, he had tried to escape into music, but even the familiar chords could not calm the storm inside him. He tried to transform the chaos into something tangible, but the darkness surrounding them seemed deeper than he was willing to acknowledge.
His fingers slowly glided over the keys, filling the room with soft chords and a melancholic melody that sounded like an echo of his inner state. It was a mixture of pain and longing, and fear took his breath away.
You tried to control me, wrapped me in lies,
Every word you spoke was a lock in disguise.
When I left, you couldn't let go,
Your anger burned, but it didn't show.
But you're not here anymore, no, you're gone,
I'm standing tall now, I'm moving on.
Then I found you, like the sun breaking through,
You let me breathe, let me be who I am too.
You don't hold me down, you lift me up,
In your love, I've found the strength to trust.
With you, I'm safe, in a way I've never known,
Your love is a place where I've finally grown.
You see me, not as something to own,
But as a partner, as someone you've shown.
He paused, his fingers resting on the keys. He stared at the sheet music in front of him, as though it might provide part of the answer to all the questions tormenting him. Music was his therapy, his way of transforming pain into something beautiful, even though he knew it would never be enough to dispel the darkness.
But music wasn't the only thing dominating his thoughts. It was Louis — the man who had always stood by his side and helped him out of the darkness, even when the world around them seemed to be falling apart. Louis stood by him not only as a partner but also as a rock in the storm. But now Louis was in danger too, and that gave Harry no peace.
Then he heard footsteps. Louis.
☆*: .｡. ｡.:*☆
Louis was already standing in the hallway, fidgeting with the hem of his jacket. The renewed conversation with Detective Markham had upset him more than he cared to admit. He had hoped to come home with answers, but instead he had more questions than ever.
Just a few hours earlier, he had told his partner about his conversation with Detective Markham. It had become clear that they were more deeply involved in this dangerous case than they could ever have imagined. Louis had visited the detective's office after new evidence had emerged, and the situation was more tense than ever. When he returned home, he found Harry in the music studio, a place he often used as a refuge.
Seeing Harry at the piano evoked a mixture of relief and deep, piercing pain. He wanted to protect Harry, to spare him the darkest truths. But he also knew that half-truths create walls. And there was no place for walls in their love.
“Markham found something, Haz.” His voice was calm — perhaps too calm — but the unease in it made Harry prick up his ears immediately. The last note of the piano key still echoed. “Something that draws us even deeper into the whole thing.”
Harry slowly turned around and sought Louis's gaze.
Louis paused before continuing. “In the depths of Nick's laptop was a file containing your alias – the name you use in hotels. And there was another name: Simon.'
Harry frowned. “Simon? Who's that?”
His face became serious, and his usual smile, which he always had around Harry, disappeared. “We don’t know for sure. But Markham believes he worked with Nick. They even found a photo... He was standing right behind you at an event.'
Harry's breath caught in his throat. The feeling of being followed, which had sometimes seemed like an illusion, suddenly had a face.
"And what does that mean?" He asked, his voice quiet and almost fragile. He couldn't connect this 'Simon' with himself. All he knew was that the danger was growing.
Louis came closer and carefully sat down next to him on the piano bench. “It means we're not just dealing with Nick.” Detective Markham said that Simon had probably been involved from the beginning or at least had played a key role. And we don't know what he wants.'
Harry closed his eyes for a moment. “What about you?” Harry asked. His heart beat faster as he thought about Louis's safety. “What about you, Louis? Are you in danger too?'
Louis hesitated for a moment before nodding, looking almost apologetic. “Yes, but Markham says we won't know what's really going on until they find out more about Simon and the human trafficking ring.” Until then, it remains unclear. But I can handle it.’
For a moment, no one said anything. The silence between them was oppressive, full of unspoken worry.
The cold hand of worry settled on Harry's chest. The thought that someone like Simon — an unknown shadow — was after him unsettled him. And the thought that Louis was also in danger wouldn't leave him.
Finally, Louis raised his hand and brushed a strand of hair from Harry's face. “I know this is a lot. But I swear to you, Harry, I won't let anyone tear us apart again. You're not alone.”
Harry looked up at him. Louis' eyes reflected the unshakeable trust he had in him. Louis had never let him down, not even during the darkest periods of his life. Now, when things were getting even more complicated, Harry knew he could rely on him.
“I know,” Harry whispered, his voice barely audible. ‘But what if we're not fast enough? What if Simon is closer than we think?'
Louis pulled him gently into an embrace, holding him close as if he wanted to protect him from the world with his bare hands. 'We'll find out, Harry. I promise you, we'll get through this together. We'll fight together.'
Harry closed his eyes and leaned into Louis's embrace. Feeling the closeness of the person who had always supported him, even in the most difficult moments, made him feel secure. The fact that they still didn't have all the answers was gnawing at him, but at that moment, he just wanted to stay close to Louis and not let the wave of uncertainty overwhelm him.
After a while, Harry slowly broke free from the embrace, sliding back a little and running his hand over his face. His thoughts continued to focus on Simon's threat and the danger hanging over them.
“Louis, we have to do something. We can't just wait for Simon to find us. He might already know where we are.”
'I know, Harry. But what can we do if we don't have any specific information? We have to find out what Simon is really up to.'
‘I want you to be safe; I want us all to be safe.’ Harry said resolutely, his gaze fixed on Louis. 'None of us is leaving the house alone anymore. From now on, there has to be someone here all the time — someone who can protect us. We can't risk Simon getting to us before we find him.'
Louis hesitated for a moment as memories of the past flooded his mind, then nodded, his voice quiet but firm. “Okay, but only someone we can really trust.”
‘Okay, that's what we'll do, Lou,’ Harry replied, meeting his gaze steadily. ‘I want Paul to know. We'll call our old bodyguard. He knows what to do, and I want him to come with two other people. One of them must be here at all times, even when we leave the house.’
Louis took a deep breath, and Harry sensed his uncertainty. But he knew that Louis trusted him and was willing to do whatever was necessary alongside him. Harry reached for his mobile phone, dialled Paul's number and told him everything. Paul was not only their long-time bodyguard and former tour manager but also a good friend. When Harry hung up, everything in the world seemed all right again, however small that might be.
Louis put his hand on his cheek and gently caressed it with his thumb. “Maybe I'm just as lost as you sometimes,” he whispered. ‘But one thing I know for sure is that I'll stay by your side. No matter what happens.”
Harry pulled him back into an embrace, holding him tight. 'Together,' he whispered.
‘We can do this together.’
Chapter 9: Stay with me, Haz
Summary:
Ultimately, love is what makes us strong, even when everything around us is falling apart.
Chapter Text
Late in the evening, the doorbell rang. Harry and Louis were sitting close together on the living room sofa while outside, the wind whistled softly against the shutters. Harry had rested his head on Louis's shoulder, and he traced his hand soothingly over Harry's arm. They had hardly spoken since Harry called Paul. Neither of them spoke. It was quiet. It was the kind of silence filled with shared concern.
When the doorbell rang, Harry flinched slightly, but Louis squeezed his hand gently. "That must be Paul," Louis murmured softly, standing up and giving Harry a brief, encouraging smile before going to the door and peering through the peephole. Relieved, he opened the door.
Paul stood outside, tall and broad as ever, with a determined expression on his face. Next to him were two men who were unfamiliar to Harry and Louis – both athletic and alert, with watchful eyes. Paul gave Louis a quick hug and patted him firmly on the back. ‘Good to see you, lads. I just wish it were under different circumstances.'
Harry joined them and pulled Paul into a firm embrace. 'Thank you for coming so immediately, Paul,' he said quietly, his relief unmistakable.
“Of course,” Paul replied calmly. ‘I’ll take care of you. We’ll draw up a security plan now, and then...’
He paused briefly and took his mobile phone out of his jacket pocket. 'Harry, Louis – I just found out something else before I came here.'
Louis’s brow furrowed. “What?”
Paul looked from one to the other, his voice becoming more serious. ‘An acquaintance from my network who works in London sent me a message. There are reports that Simon – the man you’re looking for – was seen tonight. And that was... here in town.”
Harry's heart skipped a beat. “What?”
Paul nodded, his voice calm but firm. “He was seen near a hotel, just a few blocks from here. He's not alone. No one knows what he's up to, but it's clear that he's closer to you than we'd hoped.'
Louis took a sharp breath and instinctively found Harry's hand. “Fuck,” he muttered. He could feel his heart beating faster, and a wave of adrenaline and fear washed through him. But when he looked up at Harry, he anchored his gaze in his green eyes. “We can do this,” he said, his voice sounding stronger than he felt.
Paul bob his head. “We’ll post guards here immediately. One of us will stay right outside your bedroom tonight. I don't want to take any risks.'
Harry took a deep breath and looked at Louis. “I didn’t think he’d be so close so soon,” he whispered, his voice trembling slightly.
Without hesitation, Louis pulled him into a firm embrace, resting his forehead against Harry's. “I’m here. I'm not going anywhere,' he murmured softly. 'We'll get through this together.'
Harry closed his eyes and let himself fall into Louis' warmth and embrace for a moment, into the support and safe space they had created for themselves despite everything.
Paul cleared his throat softly. ‘OK, guys. Let's get started. I need a floor plan of the house and your routines for the next few days. We're building a fortress here – Simon won't get you.'
Louis slowly pulled away from Harry and gently swept a strand of hair from his face. ‘Ready?’ he asked quietly, smiling tenderly.
Harry nodded, and in that moment, there was not only fear in the air but also determination. Together, they would face this threat. Together. Forever.
Paul spread out a printed floor plan of the house on the large wooden table in the living room. His two men, Tom and Alex, stood attentively beside him while Harry and Louis sat on the edge of the sofa. Louis's hand rested firmly on Harry's knee. He tried to appear calm, but his tense shoulders gave him away.
“So”, Paul began slowly and calmly, “Tom will patrol outside the house. Alex will stay inside and will always be within earshot. I'll stay right here in the hallway tonight. Tomorrow, we'll install surveillance cameras outside, and I'll recruit two more people. I don't want anyone looking at you without my knowledge.”
Harry nodded and pressed his lips together. It was much worse than before. 'Thanks, Paul,' he muttered. Louis briefly placed his hand on the back of Harry's neck to steady him.
“Now to you.” Paul looked at them intently. “You're not going anywhere alone. If you leave the house, you need to tell me. If you're expecting visitors, you must check with me first. No exceptions.’
Louis cleared his throat; his voice sounded a little hoarse. ‘And what do we do if Simon manages to get here?’
Paul smiled briefly, though his expression remained serious. 'Then he’ll regret ever targeting you.'
Suddenly, there was a knock at the patio door.
It was a short, sharp sound, almost too quiet to hear, but everyone froze.
Paul immediately raised his hand. “Don't move,” he whispered. Tom was already on his way outside, while Alex discreetly drew his gun and positioned himself behind the door. Paul stepped quietly to the window, a shadow in the darkness.
Harry's heart was racing. Louis's hand clasped his, their fingers intertwining tightly, almost desperately. Harry could feel Louis's rapid breathing on his ear and could hear him trying to stay in control, even though he was trembling inside. He knew how hard it was for Louis not to jump up and protect him in moments like this, but this time they were both trapped.
One moment.
Another.
Then, from outside, Tom called, “Everything's fine! It was just the wind hitting a branch against the door.”
Paul exhaled audibly and let his shoulders drop briefly before regaining his composure. “OK, but I still want us to install motion detectors here. Alex, take care of it.” He turned to Harry and Louis, his voice calming down again. He didn't want to scare his two boys anymore. “It was nothing, but we’re not taking any chances. You two stay here. I mean it.”
Harry leaned slightly against Louis and felt his tension slowly ease. "That was close," he murmured. “I’ve never seen you so pale.”
Louis snorted softly in a weak, breathless laugh. “You should see yourself in the mirror, Harry.” His voice trembled slightly, but his eyes flashed with that hint of defiance that always captivated Harry. ‘We'll get through this — together.’
Paul looked at them briefly, a hint of softness appearing on his face. “And I swear to you, I’ll get you both through this safely.”
The house had fallen silent. Tom was patrolling outside, Alex was installing the motion detectors and Paul was preparing for the night watch. Harry and Louis had retreated to the music studio — it was the only room that still felt like 'their' place.
Louis sat on the carpet with his back against the grand piano, his knees bent and his hands clasped loosely together. Harry sat on the piano bench, leaning forward slightly and looking down at him.
“You know what's crazy?” Louis's voice sounded soft, almost fragile. “I thought that at some point, it would just be about us. Where there would only be music, laughter and peace. But somehow, the world keeps pulling us into some kind of vortex of chaos.”
Harry slid off the bench, lowered himself to the floor next to Louis, pulled his legs up, and leaned slightly against him. “I know.” He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “I wish I could take you away from all this. Just the two of us. Without any dangers.”
Louis turned his head towards Harry, a faint smile crossing his face. “You're my sunshine, Harry. Without you, the shadows would be much worse.'
Harry raised a hand and gently caressed Louis's cheek. “You’re stronger than you think.”
“Only because you keep reminding me,” whispered Louis. He rested his forehead against Harry's, his eyebrows slightly furrowed as if he were fighting back tears that were close to spilling over. “Do you know what I hate most? It's that sometimes I'm afraid of losing you. Not all this stuff, but the fact that at some point you'll be too tired to keep fighting.’
Harry exhaled shakily. “I'm fighting, Louis. Not because I have to, but because I want to – for you. For us.”
They just sat there for a moment, forehead to forehead and hands clasped together. They shared a small, gentle kiss on the lips and took a deep breath.
Then Harry pulled away slightly, pulling Louis up with him until they were both standing. “Come on,” he said, smiling gently. “Let's not sleep tonight. Let's talk, make some music, or just sit here. The main thing is that we're together.'
Louis nodded, wrapped his arms around Harry, and pulled him close. ‘As long as we're together.’
The house was enveloped in deep silence. Outside, the wind rustled softly through the trees and occasionally cracked a branch. But inside, everything was quiet.
Harry and Louis were lying on the living room sofa under a blanket. The television was muted; only the flickering images cast a soft light on their faces. Louis was lying half on top of Harry, his head resting on his chest and his eyes closed. Harry slowly ran his fingers through Louis's hair, his gaze wandering absently to the ceiling.
“Do you hear that?” Louis murmured sleepily.
“Hm?” Harry looked down at him.
“Your heart.” Louis smiled gently, still not opening his eyes. “It calms me. Always.”
Harry felt a warm wave of emotion spread through him. 'And yours is my home,' he whispered, lowering his head and kissing Louis gently on the forehead.
He lifted his head slightly, his green eyes shining in the flickering light. “You’ve been through so much, Boo. I know I don't say it often enough, but thank you.”
‘You don't have to thank me, Haz.’ Louis brushed a lock of hair from Harry's forehead. “There's nowhere I'd rather be than here. With you.’
Harry's smile softened, making him look more vulnerable. “Sometimes I think I don’t deserve you.”
“Don't ever say that again.” Louis's voice was soft but firm. “You are everything to me, Harry. Everything.’
Louis blinked, struggling with his emotions for a moment, then pulled Harry into a slow, deep kiss as if he wanted to express everything that words could never fully capture.
When they broke apart, Louis remained with his forehead leaning against Harry's. “As long as we have this, they can't hurt us.”
Harry nodded and pulled him tighter into the blanket. He simply held him close while, outside, the soft crackling of the wind passed by the windows. And that night, despite all the fear and danger, there was only silence for a moment. Only them.
Shortly after midnight, the peaceful silence of the house was broken by a soft noise. A barely audible crack, as if someone were carefully fiddling with the back door.
Harry and Louis were lying half-asleep next to each other on the sofa when Paul suddenly appeared in the doorway. His forehead was furrowed and his eyes were alert. “Did you hear that?”
Harry slowly sat up, instantly feeling his heartbeat quicken. “What do you mean?”
“I think I saw something outside.” Paul was already on his way, moving quietly and carefully with his hand on the radio.
Louis sat up, still sleepy but alert. “Paul... what...?”
Glass shattered with a loud clatter. The sound came from the back of the house. Paul reacted immediately. “Stay here!”
“Paul!” Harry yelled after him, but he had already disappeared into the hallway.
Louis grabbed Harry's hand and squeezed it tightly. “Harry, what if...?”
There was a noise in the hallway. Slow, steady footsteps.
Harry's breath caught in his throat. Louis tensed, instinctively pulling Harry a little behind him.
Then a shadow appeared in the doorway. Tall and slim, dressed in dark clothes. His face was in semi-darkness and barely recognisable.
For a moment, everything was silent.
And then – a bang. A dull bang somewhere deep inside the house. The next moment, all the lights went out.
Darkness engulfed the living room.
Harry could only hear Louis's hurried breathing beside him and feel his fingers reaching out to him. “Stay with me, Haz,” Louis whispered, barely audibly.
And out of the darkness, very quietly, barely more than a whisper, they heard approaching footsteps.
Chapter 10: Your time is up
Summary:
'In the deepest darkness, when the room is filled with silence,
the slightest sound can seem like a cry into the void.'
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
It was pitch black. Thick clouds had obscured the moon but were now slowly drifting away. Pale moonlight timidly penetrated the narrow slits in the curtains, casting restless, ghostly patterns on the floor.
Huddled close together behind the large sofa, Harry and Louis gasped for breath, their heavy breathing far too loud in the nervous silence. Each thumping heartbeat seemed to make the floor beneath them shake. They knew someone was in the room. It had to be Simon. He was like a breath on the back of their necks, his shoes making a soft yet piercing crunch on the parquet floor.
“I know you're here,” came a sudden voice from the darkness. It was Simon's voice – deep, cold and cutting with suppressed anger.
“You can't run away forever.”
Louis' fingers closed around Harry's hand so tightly that he could feel the bones in Louis' palm. They didn't dare move. The shadows cast by the moonlight turned the furniture into monstrous silhouettes, and every creak and breath could mean their end. Even the slightest noise could betray them. They breathed shallowly, like silent statues in a room that had become a trap.
Simon's footsteps creaked on the parquet floor — a soft yet piercing sound, like that of a predator on the prowl. Each creak was a promise of violence. Harry's heart beat in his throat, but he was also grateful that they could hear where Simon was. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
“I'll find you,” Simon whispered again, this time closer. His voice dripped with cruel satisfaction. It crept through the darkness like a freezing wind. “Your time is up.”
Suddenly, there was a rustling and a barely audible scratching sound coming from outside. A shadow flitted across the hallway. Hopefully, Paul.
Harry and Louis both felt it at the same time: the tension in the air, stretching like a rubber band. For a moment, hope blossomed. But Simon heard it, too.
“Damn it!” he hissed quietly, kicking a table. The glass on it fell to the floor with a sharp clatter. It shattered with a sharp clatter that echoed painfully in the darkness, followed by a suppressed 'Shit!' from Simon.
Then everything broke loose at once — a jumble of noises and curses.
Paul stormed into the room in a rage, lunging directly at Simon with a roaring growl.
“You bastard!” Paul yelled as they collided. A dull, heavy blow echoed through the room, followed by the crash of a small table bouncing off Simon's back and shattering into pieces on the floor. Simon gasped angrily and snapped back. “Fuck off!” he shouted, wriggling free from Paul's grip.
They staggered across the room, knocking over a floor lamp which fell with a clattering noise.
Paul gasped heavily. “You filthy pig!”
Simon spat, breathlessly. “I should have finished you off first!”
The room turned into a battlefield. Chairs were knocked aside and cushions flew through the air as Paul threw Simon against the sofa. Harry could feel the shock through to his bones. He heard Paul groan and Simon curse. He heard the scraping of shoes and the splintering of wood. “Let go, you arsehole.” ‘No way, you sick bastard,’ Paul growled.
Louis pressed himself even closer to Harry, his fingers digging into his sleeve and his eyes wide open. They hardly dared to breathe as all hell broke loose above them.
Then, very quietly, like a single drop of warmth in the midst of the icy chaos, Harry heard Louis's voice next to him.
‘I love you. Never forget that.’
A whisper, barely audible.
Harry closed his eyes for a moment.
"I love you too."
Simon ducked and rammed his elbow into Paul's ribs. Paul doubled over in pain, uttering an ugly, forced 'Ugh!'. But Paul didn't let up. He grabbed Simon by the collar and hurled him across the room. There was a deafening impact against a bookcase, and books clattered to the floor with a dull thud. Then came Simon's gasping laughter. A groaning 'Urgh'.
Paul roared and stumbled. Wood splintered and glass shattered. Simon cried out briefly, ducked away and kicked Paul in the knee. Paul let out a strained 'Damn it!' followed by a deep growl. “You sick pig...!”
Hidden behind the sofa in the shadows, Harry and Louis could feel the heat and violence of the situation and the force of the bodies crashing down on them. They didn't dare scream or tremble. Only the trembling of their fingers betrayed their panic.
Outside, Alex, the younger of the two bodyguards, heard the crash while sneaking around the house. His fingers tightened around the torch in one hand and the gun in the other. His heart pounded in his chest, and sweat ran down his forehead.
“Shit, Tom, he's inside!” He hissed into the radio.
Tom emerged from behind him, breathing heavily and with sweat on his forehead. “I can hear it!” Tom's strained voice came back. “Come on, Alex, open the damn door!”
They stumbled up the last few steps to the front door. Alex pulled the key out of his pocket tremblingly and impatiently. A scream came from the living room.
“Shit!” Alex swore and threw open the door.
“Run!” Tom barked after him.
They stormed through the ground floor. “Ready?” Alex gasped.
‘Ready!’ Tom took a deep breath and raised his gun.
“Please hold on...” Alex murmured quietly, barely audibly. “Please...”
Paul grabbed Simon by the arm and tried to push him to the ground.
“Damn you, you arsehole!” Paul growled.
Simon gasped, 'You're so fucked!'
They rolled behind the sofa. Harry felt the world dissolve into chaos: hands and feet pounding each other, heavy breathing, high-pitched moans, suppressed screams, and splintering wood all blending together to form a terrible symphony.
The coffee table crashed to the ground, its wood splintering as a chair flew across the room. There was the shattering of glass and the dull thud of a body hitting the wall. Simon screamed, and Paul gasped for air. Louis pressed his hand to his mouth and felt his stomach contract.
Alex and Tom ran as fast as they could. They had already left the stairs behind them. The thunder of their footsteps echoed through the house.
“Ready?” Tom shouted.
“Ready!” Alex gasped.
There was one last wild crash behind the sofa. There was a dull sound, as if bone had struck bone. Paul and Simon crouched behind the sofa amid a jumble of cursing voices, hoarse breathing and crashing blows. They were not even a metre away from Louis and Harry.
Harry heard Paul curse, 'You... damn... pig!'
Simon gasped, “Fuck you, Paul!”
Then, there was a loud bang. A single, sharp shot shattered the silence. For a moment, everything froze, as if time itself had held its breath. Then a dull final sound, as if a body had fallen lifeless to the floor.
The room fell silent as the sound of the shot echoed, inexplicable and unpredictable.
Alex's hand was almost on the door handle when the living room suddenly fell silent.
Notes:
Any guesses?
Please leave a comment, it means everyhing to me
Chapter 11: No sign of life
Notes:
Not every ending is a conclusion – sometimes it's just the beginning of something that lasts.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The echo of the shot still reverberated through the house when Alex threw open the door. The dull bang reverberated throughout the house, rattling the windows and stopping hearts, like a clap of thunder heralding a new and terrifying reality.
“Secure the premises!” he shouted, his voice sharp and practised, honed by years of service. Without hesitation, he stormed into the living room. Guided by the barrel of his gun, he moved through the flickering darkness, dimly lit by torches.
Tom followed close behind, his posture tense and every muscle straining to breaking point. The torches and guns cast trembling circles on the walls and ceiling.
The room looked as if a tornado had swept through it. A coffee table had been overturned, an armchair was half broken, books were scattered and the carpet had been shifted as if someone had desperately tried to find footing. Blood dripped onto the floor from a cracked picture frame; the glass beneath was speckled red. The air was thick and heavy with swirling dust and the acrid smell of fear and sweat, with a metallic undertone coating tongues and throats.
Alex moved purposefully through the debris, searching every corner with his gaze, but his attention was focused on the centre of the chaos: two entwined, motionless and rigid bodies. It was unclear who the victim and who the perpetrator were and whether that mattered at that moment.
“Cover me,” he said tersely, almost automatically, and knelt down. His knees cracked softly in the silence.
Tom took over, securing the area while his gaze darted around the room, searching for movement or breath. But there was nothing. Only silence. And blood. And the echo of the violence that had burnt itself into the walls.
Alex reached out and felt for a pulse on the man's neck. The man stared at the ceiling with glazed eyes. The cut on his forehead was deep, and the blood had already clotted; his shirt was soaked from his chest down to his waist. He was still warm. But there was nothing left.
A few seconds passed, long enough for the blood to rush into his ears. Then, with a small movement that carried great significance, Alex slowly shook his head.
“No sign of life,” he murmured, his voice little more than a shadow in the darkness.
Tom came closer. He moved with control, and his shoulders were firm, but something flickered in his eyes: a hint of horror and recognition.
“Who?” he asked.
Alex exhaled. “Simon. It's Simon. He's dead.'
Next to him lay Paul. Unlike Simon, he was still alive. His chest rose and fell frantically as if he were fighting for every breath. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, and his face was covered in blood. A gaping wound stretched across his cheek. His eyes were half open and staring at the ceiling, but he could see nothing. His hands were limply clenched into fists. Every breath was a struggle, a rough, croaking sound as if he were breathing through broken glass.
“He... he didn't stop... I had no choice,” he managed to say with difficulty. His voice was little more than a whisper, lost among the debris.
Tom lowered his weapon. Slowly. He hesitated, as if he was only now truly realising that the danger was over. Or that something much bigger and deeper had been destroyed.
“It's over,” he said quietly, more to himself than to anyone else.
But then another sound broke the silence. Not loud, but intense. Rapid, hurried, shallow breathing — but not from Paul.
It came from behind them, from the large sofa.
Alex and Tom froze, their eyes meeting, both on high alert.
Then a soft, barely audible sob. Then a rasping breath. Something inside him broke.
The first move was made by Tom. He slowly circled the piece of furniture, holding the torch low and keeping his fingers on the trigger of his gun. The light felt its way through the shadows until it illuminated two figures. Huddled together like frightened children under a blanket, Harry and Louis sat close to each other. Louis clung to Harry, his fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. Harry held him tight, as if he could protect him from the world that had just been destroyed.
“Harry? Louis?” Tom said. His voice had lost all authority. It was just a whisper, a tentative attempt to reach them.
There was no response. No twitch. They were frozen in terror, reliving the memory of what had happened.
Alex immediately grabbed the phone. “We need medical assistance. At least three people are affected: one is seriously injured, and two are probably in shock. The suspect is dead.”
Harry squinted into the light, as if slowly emerging from deep water. Louis remained silent, his gaze wide and empty.
Tom stepped closer. His movements were calm and reassuring. “You're safe. Come out; it's over.”
But they didn't move; their bodies were rigid and their souls were frozen. Fear was a cage that couldn't be broken so easily.
Then something moved on the floor. There was a rustling sound.
Paul moved. With trembling arms, he pulled himself up, his face contorted into a mask of pain. Every breath was a struggle. Blood dripped onto the battered parquet floor. Nevertheless, he crawled forward slowly and determinedly. Each inch was torture, but he persevered.
He reached the edge of the sofa and stretched out his bloody hand.
“Everything is okay.” His voice was little more than a whisper. “Nothing can happen to you anymore.”
Harry's gaze sought Paul's face. He hesitated, listening to him. He knew that if he said so, then everything really would be okay. Harry moved as though waking up from a nightmare that wasn't quite over yet. Louis followed him, groping and clinging on to Harry.
They climbed out and sat down next to Paul. No one said anything for a while. Then they hugged him tenderly and carefully. Harry ran his fingers through Paul's hair, gently wiping the blood from his face. Paul's body went limp. He sank into a deep unconsciousness, his face turned to one side in an almost peaceful expression of exhaustion.
Minutes passed as if in a fog when, shortly afterwards, the blue lights of police cars and ambulances began to flicker through the windows. The wail of sirens grew louder and sharper, like a wake-up call. Voices grew louder and footsteps hurried through the house.
Paramedics rushed into the living room. One of them immediately knelt down next to Paul and began administering first aid. “Unconscious, weak pulse, low blood pressure. Set up an IV and prepare for transport. Immediate infusion, stabilise.” They applied the Stifneck and placed Paul on the stretcher.
Another person took care of Harry and Louis, speaking softly and pointing to the door. “Come with us. You're safe," said a paramedic. “We’ll get you out of here.”
They led the two men out of the room, past the destroyed furniture and wood splinters, and through the chaos to Simon. No one looked back.
It was cooler outside. The ambulance was waiting. They were carefully wrapped in silver rescue blankets and placed on the stretcher. The blankets rustled with every movement, making a soft sound in contrast to the loud chaos.
Harry stared into space; Louis was still holding his hand, as if it were the only thing keeping him in this reality. Their faces were ashen, and their eyes looked through the people as if they were already somewhere else.
Inside the ambulance, the paramedic spoke to them calmly, trying to get them to cooperate. “Are you in pain? Do you remember anything?”
Harry just shook his head. Louis stared into space. Their wounds were not physical.
Paul was brought in on a stretcher. The doctor took charge. A monitor beeped. A paramedic held his hand and tried to keep him awake. “Stay with us, Paul. We'll be right there.”
When the ambulance doors finally closed and the vehicle drove off with its sirens wailing, the last remnants of tension fell away from Harry and Louis. They leaned against each other, both trembling. Not a word was spoken.
Outside, the night passed. Inside, there was only silence. And one thing was certain: physically, they were alive. Mentally, however, things looked quite different. Nothing would ever be the same again.
Notes:
The story is slowly coming to an end.
Or is it?
Chapter 12: We have each other
Notes:
Sometimes it's not enough for everything to turn out well – sometimes it's enough just to still be there.
Chapter Text
The room smelt of disinfectant. This cool, sterile odour lingered in the air, yet it failed to dispel the elusive fear. The monotonous hum of the monitors and the intermittent beeps from the neighbouring rooms merged into a constant background noise. The room was dark. Only the flickering light from the street lamps, shining through the half-open window, cast shadows on the walls. But even this faint light seemed to offer no life or comfort.
Harry and Louis lay close together in the twin bedroom. They couldn't bear to be apart and didn't want to be. Their bodies constantly sought contact, as if their touch alone were their last anchor in a world that had pulled the rug out from under their feet. Harry's arm was protectively around Louis's waist, his fingers digging into the fabric of Louis's shirt. Louis, on the other hand, had rested his head on Harry's chest, holding his ear close to his heartbeat. Every beat was proof. They are alive. They are still here.
Harry felt Louis's body beside him and his warm heartbeat beneath his hand. However, the shock of the night's events weighed heavily on his chest. He pulled the soft wool blanket that had been placed over them tighter around them. At the foot of the bed lay a crumpled emergency blanket, a reminder of the chaotic hours when they had been taken to hospital.
Louis clasped his fingers tightly around Harry's, as if their touch alone could save him from the emptiness. The words burnt on Harry's tongue: 'I need you.' Without Harry, it was as if he would disappear into the darkness.
“Haz?” Louis whispered softly, stroking their entwined hands. 'You're here. You're really here, aren't you?'
Harry nodded silently. That was all it took. The contact mattered; the silent exchange between them spoke despite the darkness and the pain.
Just as they had settled into the night's silence, the door opened. The on-duty doctor entered the room and switched on the light, which flickered across the room. But the two of them were still too shocked to move. His footsteps sounded muffled as he approached. The file in his hand looked thick and ominous.
“How are you both?” he asked gently, but his question went unheard.
Louis looked at him, but his eyes were empty and glassy. He opened his mouth to answer, but only a bitter laugh came out instead of a reply. Louis was like a different person then.
“How am I?” he snorted sarcastically. ‘Well, what do you think? I'm lying here after a night of blood and violence. What more could you want? Should I put myself back together like a jigsaw puzzle now?”
The doctor gave him a brief, thoughtful look, but Louis was not deterred. “Of course, why not? Everything's great, especially after what we've been through. I mean, why not open a bottle of champagne right now?'
Harry pulled Louis closer to his chest and gently squeezed his hand. Louis' sarcasm was the armour he wore to hide the pain.
The doctor paused, sighed softly, and nodded as if preparing for the inevitable. “I understand. It's not easy, but we're here to help. I just wanted to see how you were coping.”
Louis blinked, trying to find an answer, but nothing came to mind. He just nodded, leaned back against Harry's chest, and squeezed his hand even tighter.
Finally, Harry cleared his throat. “How is Paul?” he asked anxiously.The doctor glanced briefly at his notes and began to explain, “Paul is in the neuro-intensive care unit. He has several broken ribs and a head injury. He lost a lot of blood, but we were able to stabilise him. The next few hours are critical, after which we will continue to monitor him closely.”
Louis's eyes narrowed, and he felt a lump forming in his throat. “Broken ribs and head trauma?” How long will it take him to recover? Or will he ever be?'
The doctor hesitated before answering. “It's hard to say. It depends on how he responds to treatment. But we're doing everything we can to help him.'
Louis nodded, his shoulders stiffening briefly as he felt incredibly small and vulnerable. He was grateful that they had escaped unscathed. But what good was that if they could stabilise Paul yet not restore his control over his life?
Harry put a hand on Louis's arm and pulled him back slightly. “Lou, everything will be fine. Paul is a fighter; he'll make it.'
Louis sighed. The doctor's words echoed in his mind, but somehow they all felt too distant and abstract. “Can we see him now?”
The doctor nodded and opened the door. “Yes, but only for a moment. He's asleep, and he'll probably get tired if you stay any longer.'
Louis glanced quickly at Harry and stood up. “Then let's go before another doctor comes and gives us more bad news.”
Uncertain and shaky, they entered the neuro-intensive care unit. The sight hit Louis hard: Paul was lying motionless in bed, surrounded by machines and tubes, with bandages on his head and chest. He looked vulnerable and fragile, and it hurt to see him like that.
Louis immediately sat down at Paul's bedside and took his hand. Paul's fingers twitched weakly under Louis's touch — perhaps a reflex, barely noticeable, but enough to take his breath away. Harry stood beside Louis, one hand on his shoulder, like a silent guardian, making sure he could cope. The minutes passed, and, although no one said anything, the room was filled with unspoken thoughts.
They weren't allowed to stay for very long. Nurses and doctors kept coming in to examine him and check his vital signs. Louis didn't want to let go of him. His fingers were literally glued to Paul's skin, as if he wanted to infuse him with his own life force. It was only when Harry quietly asked him to come with him that he finally let go, placing a hand on Louis's shoulder.
Later, a doctor came into their room and told them that Paul was stable. But Louis's and Harry's hearts were heavy. They knew there was still a long way to go for all of them.
“It will never be the same again,” Louis murmured. His voice sounded hoarse.
Harry squeezed his hand tighter. “But we're still here. We have each other.'
And that was enough for now.
Chapter 13: Epilogue I
Notes:
Not everything heals without leaving a trace. But some things heal together.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Months later
Spring was in full swing, and life was slowly returning to normal. The scars of the past were still evident in every movement and breath, but they were healing. Slowly. Patiently. And together.
Paul had spent several months in a rehabilitation clinic on the coast. The doctors had initially given him little hope, but he refused to give up. With tenacious determination, he fought his way through the daily therapies. His broken ribs healed, and so did his head injury, albeit more slowly. Step by step, he found his way back to himself. There were sometimes setbacks and fleeting moments of frustration, but he always smiled when Louis or Harry came to visit him.
The talk therapy sessions weren't about guilt; Paul no longer blamed himself. But what had happened sat deep within him. The violence, the proximity to death, the urge to protect Louis and Harry at all costs as if they were his own children, and the memories of what could have been took their toll on him. It would be a long time before the silence inside him turned back into lightness.
Harry and Louis had also decided to go to therapy. Initially, they were hesitant and afraid of reliving the pain, but they soon found a safe space where they could begin to work through their issues. Harry learnt to stop hiding his fear behind a smile. Louis learnt that anger could also be a form of grief. Together, they learnt that love sometimes meant not always being strong.
For a while, they kept a small nightlight on in their bedroom. Complete darkness sometimes reminded them of that violent night long ago.
Spring passed, and eventually the two found the strength to share their story from the past few months – but not, as they had feared, in the newspapers' headlines. Instead, they shared their story in a quiet conversation with their family, away from the prying eyes of the general public. This was their first step into a world beyond the chaos.
It was difficult, but necessary, to tell their families. There were many long and painful conversations. Louis had initially hesitated, waiting for the right moment to tell his siblings. Lottie, his younger sister, had, of course, noticed that something was wrong but had never asked about it. When he finally told her, they both cried, and their world seemed to stand still for a moment.
Harry also spoke to his family. His mother was devastated, yet relieved that he and Louis had made it through the worst. This moment of affection and support brought the family back together. They were, of course, still worried about Paul, but they knew that the healing process would take a long time. But they were there for the two of them, just as they always had been.
Their new home was both old and familiar: the apartment in Princess Park that Harry had never sold. They had bought it during their time with One Direction — a luxurious, light-filled retreat with sweeping views of the city. The windows were large, the park was right outside the door, and it was quiet, peaceful and elegant.
It had been their first retreat together, long before everything went haywire, and now it was theirs again. They couldn't bring themselves to enter the house where all the terrible things had happened. Too many ghosts. Too many memories clung to the walls.
The boxes had long since been unpacked, but it took time to settle back in. They cooked together, argued about wallpaper colours and sat on the floor because the new dining table hadn't been delivered yet. They laughed, too. Not always. But again.
The flat often smelt of fresh flowers because Harry insisted on buying new ones every Saturday. Louis enjoyed naming them after vegetables. The vase on the windowsill was called 'broccoli'. No one else got the joke, but Louis grinned like an idiot every time he said it.
In the evenings, they would often sit on the small balcony, wrapped in blankets, and admire the city lights. They said little about the past. But they held hands.
Because they were still here.
Notes:
Hey, my dears, the story is coming to an end.
There is a second epilogue and two bonus chapters. If you're interested, feel free to comment now.
I would like to thank you all for your votes and comments. Thank you for the votes and comments.
Chapter 14: Epilogue II
Notes:
Fighting takes courage. However, it takes even more courage to believe in peace when it finally arrives.
Chapter Text
As the months passed, life slowly returned to normal. Harry and Louis continued to live in their first apartment together in Princess Park, which Harry had never sold. It was a quiet place that made them feel secure and comfortable. But the shadows of the past remained, even if they had faded — they were still a part of them.
One afternoon, as Louis poured himself a cup of tea, his mobile phone rang. It was Inspector Markham. Although they spoke regularly, this time Markham's voice sounded different, more determined, as if she had something important to say.
“Louis, I wanted to bring you up to date,” she said by way of greeting. 'I know you've been through a lot lately, but there's news.'
Louis felt his heart beat faster. He sat down and listened to Markham.
“What happened?” he asked calmly.
‘It's over, Louis,’ Markham continued. ‘The international network that Simon built has been dismantled. We've uncovered all the connections. It was active worldwide — in Europe, Asia, and South America. Simon was at the helm of it all.’
He took a deep breath. A strange mixture of relief and sadness washed over him. They had done it.
'Nick provided us with extensive information about the gang's structures and operations,' Markham continued. ‘He led us to the last connections we were missing. The arrests took place over several months and spanned the globe. We caught many members of the ring, and the investigation is now complete. Most of the network is now under control. There are no further threats.’
‘But...’ Louis began. ‘So Simon was really the boss?’
“Yes,” Markham confirmed. “Simon was the head of the gang. He always gave the impression that he was just a small cog in the wheel, someone who wasn't really involved in the operations. But, in reality, he was the mastermind behind everything. All the threads came together with him. He was the one pulling the strings while remaining in the shadows.'
Louis felt a shiver run down his spine. It was difficult for him to imagine that Simon, who had always seemed so reserved, could have orchestrated all of this. But Markham's words brought clarity.
“It's really over, isn't it? No further threats?' asked Louis.
‘Yes,’ Markham confirmed. 'There are no further threats. You are safe. The case is officially closed.’
Louis hung up, and a deep silence spread through him. It was an ending, but also a new beginning. They had survived the nightmare and could finally start rebuilding their lives.
He walked into the kitchen, where he found Harry standing at the window looking out at the park. Relief shone in his eyes, and when he looked at Louis, a faint smile appeared on his face.
“It's over,” Louis said quietly. “The network, the threat... it's all over.”
Harry walked over to him and took his hand. “Really? Is it really over?'
‘Yes,’ Louis replied. “It's over. We're safe. No one will ever come after us again.’
Harry took a deep breath and pulled Louis gently into his arms. “I still can’t believe it,” he whispered. “It's like a nightmare that's finally ending.”
Louis nodded. “Yes, but now we can finally look ahead.”
They stood together and absorbed the feeling of relief and peace. The time of pain and uncertainty was over. Now was the moment to focus on what lay ahead. This time, it was a new beginning that belonged to them.
AuntieJo324 on Chapter 2 Tue 03 Jun 2025 06:31PM UTC
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StylinsonsHeartbeat on Chapter 2 Wed 04 Jun 2025 06:12AM UTC
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