Hide & Seek (Larry Stylinson AU)

*LOUIS' POV* The voice wasn't one I wanted to hear. It was dark, an imitation of what was once a wonder to hear. It was cold and extremely inhuman. I look around me, where I am standing stationary and bleakly stable. There's nothing, no one within sight or hearing range for me. I abandon my station after gathering my belongings and jogging towards the storage room marked 'Employed Personnel Only' and push through the door. My locker, as promised, is tucked away in the corner of the room with a black metal casing. The combination lock is open and brand new. I throw in my stuff and lock it with the digits of Phoebe's birthday. The door opens and I jump from the abruptness. Two laughing men walk in and I am quick to camouflage my panic. They stop upon seeing me, deferring direction and approaching me. "I'm Seth." A balding but twenty-something guy offers me his hand and a smile. "And I'm Roger. Welcome to Dayton's." His accompanying friend does the same but waits his turn. "Louis." I smile back weakly. "Nice to meet you both." "Did Paul give you the look-around?" Roger asks as he follows suit in my act of unceremoniously throwing his items into his locker. "Yes, he did." I reply. "Here's your badge, kiddo." Seth throws a pin at me and I almost throw it back unlatched in anger. I suppress my urge and pin it on the right side of my chest. "You can handle the counter today." Roger walks out with us. "It's pretty simple." "We're open!" Seth tells us as he turns the sign. Oh boy. The partners disappear in the back of the store and I can hear their boisterous laughter complimented by cries of pain. I shake my head at their behavior. "How's it going?" Paul strolls past without glancing at me so I don't answer. It's 10h30 and I've been here since 09h00. I study the workstation I'm awarded. There's only one till-station so what do they do when there's a rush? The technology in use is pretty up-to-date and may even give me a hassle or three. The door rattles, the bell atop the entrance indicating the arrival of someone who wishes to spend time and cash in this place. I look up and watch a little girl hold onto her father's finger as they waltz in. She sees me in her flowery pink dress and waves innocently. I wave back against her father's glare and they continue into Isle One - Decorations. Twenty minutes later they show up before me with a trolley of goods. I politely scan each item and let them pay for it. "Thank you, Mister." The small girl says sweetly before turning around with her father who struggles to hide the fact that his packets are weighing him down. "Can I help with that?" I offer and he nods stiffly. I take the two out of four bags and go to their car. The small girl skips ahead and climbs into the back seat without looking back. "Thanks." The father takes the bags from me. I went back to work and attended to more than thirteen customer's demands on my own. Over lunch I learned that Seth and Roger were step-brothers, with the same interests and shared hatred for hockey. I was interrogated as to the happenings and details of my childhood, a special fascination popped up when the last week of my life came to light. "So.....I don't get it." Seth leans back in his chair. "What's not to get?" Roger pokes him. "Did you......feel for him?" I grimace at the probing question. "What the fuck does that mean?" "You know, do you miss him?" Roger rephrases. I never mentioned Harry's name and so for them, he was just a him. With a shrug I indicate silently that I no longer want to talk about this. I worked for the next three hours and at 17h00 was more than prepared to leave the companionship of Seth and Roger. "There's a place Roger and I go after a hard day's work." Seth comments casually as we exchange our clothes for our morning ones. "You should come with us." Roger adds. "What is it?" I ask. "It's not a club, if that's what you're asking." Roger says. "But it has everything that a club does." "Is it a country club?" They laugh at my pathetic joke. "No!" Seth replies, still amused. "Okay fine, it's a club." "You should come. Break this town in with us, Louis." Roger suggests and really I find his offer more than tempting. "What do you say?" Seth slams his locker door shut. I shrug my shoulders at the loss of my inner debate. I was tired but also had no intention of going to that flat now on my first night and have the incident of today looming over my thoughts. "Sure. I'll come." I succumb to the likes of Roger and Seth and they grin excitedly. *** The clubbie - a derogatory label for this gathering of drunk and sweaty people - is oddly packed with individuals. It's Friday so I imagine that tons of youngsters want to wake up strangers' beds tomorrow morning. Seth and Roger lead the way as they weave through everyone in attendance. We reach a bar and I'm nearly pushed up against the edge by a drunkenly wobbly girl who is trying to get somewhere. "Have this!" Seth shoves a glass tumbler brimming with green liquid that could be colored water. I take a sip bravely and deem it safe when the contents taste sweet and sour without taunting my taste buds with a bitter after-effect. "What is it?" I ask above the noise of cheering people and bass music. "Crooke's Trick Drink." Roger has to speak into my ear and I shiver from the discomfort. "It's his own invention." The bartender, Crooke, smiles in appreciation and I give him the earned kudos with the raising of my glass. I steal a slim black straw from a container and slip it into my glass to make drinking it easier as I try to balance myself between this hectic crowd. "See you guys later!" Seth departs from our trio and I watch him leave back into the mass of chaos. "That's his girlfriend." Roger sits on a bar stool and I remain standing. "Thinks I don't know." "Who?" "Her." Roger nudges his chin in the direction Seth left. "Name's Veronica." "Don't like her?" "Never met her." Why the fuck am I getting involved in these idiots' problems? I had my own with no free time slots to fill with theirs. I drown the remains of my drink and scan the crowd through sober eyes. I freeze when I spot something familiar. My gaze immediately flickers back to the spot by the door but it's gone. I frown. "Looking for someone?" Roger bumps my arm. The fucker has got to stop doing that. "No." I answer vaguely. "Another?" "Sure." Three Crooke's Trick Drink's later I am on the other side of stable and sober. I may not have lost command over all five senses but my control is dicey. I remain seated on the bar stool and continue looking at the crowd. Roger had snatched up a girl on his second gulp of drink three and was snogging beside me. Occasionally they'd lean a little to close to me and I'd be forced to shove them back. The lights were diverse, red, blue and orange. Every person dancing looked like they were visible through night vision goggles. Cups broke and people screamed, there were no fights and I was getting bored. "Never seen you here before." A redhead comes to perch herself on the chair to my left. "I'm Lindsey." I nod and ignore her. I really wasn't in the frame of mind for a casual anything right now. "Surely your birth certificate says something. Are you mute?" I clench my jaw in irritation. I put my empty cup down on the polished surface of the counter and Crooke refills it dutifully. "Louis." I snap. "My name's Louis." "So have you been here before?" She has on a tight-fitting black dress that does everything for her figure. Her skin is tan and could be an illusion. "No, Lindsey. I haven't been here before." I don't understand my own tone of arrogance and irritation. She'd done nothing to provoke it. "Would you like me to-" "Sorry, sweetheart. No one will be paying for your services tonight." A third and low, gruff voice intervenes on behalf of my thoughts. I grow cold to the core, every muscle clenching and every fiber folding in two. Fear shoots up my spine and courage throws itself off a cliff. Lindsey rebukes by storming off, offended blatantly by this creature's comment. I turn my head, slowly as I look up at the person who put a stop to my communication. "Hi, Lou." The voice is honey to listen to be, scorching honey that burns on contact. "Harry." Once it's said it cannot be undone. Harry's smirk is faint in the dim lighting but I see it all the same. My mixed emotions, fueled by a wheel of rage causes me to stand up and push past him much to his confusion. I hear him say something in an attempt to get me to turn around but I keep walking until I'm out the door in the cool air of outside. My car is in the lot and I start towards it. "Lou!" I ignore him. "Louis, look at me!" Still ignoring the twat. But I am helpless when he grips my elbow and pulls me to a stop. "What do you want?" I ask calmly. His eyes are reflecting the neon sign of the club and it looks enticing. "For you to stop walking away from me." "As opposed to standing here?" "Yes." He growls, looking around at the vacant area. He was wearing white scrubs, turned brown and black from the night hiding the dirt stains. He wore a black coat over that and was barefoot. Ouch. His cheek held a bruise that had his skin swollen and purple; several small scratches on his knuckles and forehead. "You escaped?" I gasp in horror. "Yes." He says through clenched teeth that were still white. I felt so small in front of him. "Why? Do you have a death wish or something?" I scream. "They'll fucking find you again." He let's my anger tip over before speaking. "No, Louis. I'll be fine but we have to go." When he reaches for me I step back. "Absolutely not, Harold. I'm not going anywhere with you." "Why not?" He doesn't seem offended, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smirk. "Because you're a psychopath, you nut." I grind my teeth. "I'm not going to jail because you were silly enough to come looking for me." And the humor disappears. His jaw tightens and his fist clenches. "Stop fighting me! For God's sake I'm trying to change!" "Change what exactly?" "Me!" His voice dips and I swear on the ground beneath my teeth that the whites of his eyes turned black. "I'm trying to be different." "Things don't work like that, Harry!" "We can make them work that way. Now shut up, and come with me." There's no avoiding his grasp now when he seizes me wrist in his cold fingers and I wince from how harsh his grip is. "Ow." I try to resist and he loosens his hold without letting go. *** I slam the door behind me with no regard for the fact that Harry was walking behind me. He chuckles when he reopens the door and closes it softly again. I can't believe I brought him here. I can't believe I'm even near him. "You need to shower. You stink." I say leaning against the wall. "I will." He smiles. "I don't have any clothes." "We'll have to figure something out about your clothes." I say, thinking I could the landlady if her previous tenant left any suitable clothing. "Wait." I turn to look expectantly at him. "How often do you think of that night?" "Often enough." I choke on dry air. "And you?" I ask the silliest question ever, I already knew its answer. "All the time." I didn't know what to say to that. He thought about it too, which was a relief knowing that I wasn't going insane. I remove his hands from my back. "Take a shower." He nods and steps back so that I may stand on my own. "It's in there." I show him the bathroom. "I'll be right back." "Where are you going?" He asks already stripping off his shirt. "To get you some clothes." The landlady is busy locking up the cash register machine when I tap my knuckles on the wall to get her attention. "Oh. Louis." She seems wary. "How can I help you?" "I was wondering if the tenant." I point to the Heavens. "Left any old clothes." She frowns. "He did in fact. Hold on." She digs out a loud bunch of metal keys from her apron. After fumbling through each one she selects the largest and motions for me to follow her. We come to a stable door behind the kitchen and she unlocks it. "It's in here." She let's me in. "Say, is this for the young man who came looking for you?" My train of thought hits its brakes and my heart stops beating, all surrendering to this moment of suspenseful agitation. "Y-Yeah." I mutter a response. "Oh. He looked like he needed it." She comments as I pick up the three boxes marked JED - CLOTHING. "Where is he coming from?" I cough. "Middleston." "Oh. Well, are you two hungry?" I kick the apartment door closed behind me with my foot and drop the paper bag of food on the table before going into the bedroom. The shower is still on and I realise there aren't any towels in there. Kicking off my shoes to walk around in socks, I grab a grey towel from the bag set aside for bathroom necessities. In the bathroom, steam has settled in the form of water vapour droplets on the mirror and windows. The door is wet and the floor is not to be trusted. When I look up there's no turning away. Harry's back is to me as he stands in the shower section. All I can see are scars, varying from small and recent to linear and permanent. One gash starts at his shoulder blade - now a bone that I can see clearly thanks to the flickering bulb above us that struggles to resist the current flowing through its conductors - and ceases at his hip. One long stretch that could have arisen from an extremely deep injury. I sit on the closed toilet trying hard not to stare more at Harry's back and it's littering of pain and injustice. I notice the red streams that flow down his skin and into the drain, like an army fleeing the battleground. "Whose blood is that?" I ask without thought or consideration. He isn't spooked that I just spoke up without knocking before entering. "My own." He runs his hand through his hair so that it is slicked back like it had been cosmetically altered with hair gel. I feel a pang of guilt and instant pity. Though Harry did what he did, he had gone through a lot as well but it was biased and odd for the public to not take that into account when they stoned him with harsh comments. The steam fogs my vision and after correcting my sight, I glance up to see Harry has turned around to face me. "How did you get those scars?" I ask looking up at him, focusing on his eyes and face rather than letting my eyes wander to detect any other signs of physical torment. He shrugs and water sprays away from him like a shield deflecting a shield. "I don't remember." "Did they hurt?" "They must have." He smirks. "They're pretty deep." I look down at my black socks with my fingers interlocked as my mind loses itself in memory and conjecture. I felt the urge to touch them and feel what they were on his skin, to him. I realise that I'd never touched Harry, not exactly though he had full range with me. I shift in my seat. The water shoots out from the shower tap and the scent of our soap fills my nostrils with each inhaling action. Two bare feet appear in front of me and I slowly look up, feeling even smaller in front of Harry than I usually did. He is dripping wet from the shower - that's runs on in the background - and I get a full view of his estranged tattoos on his rib cage and chest. No words are exchanged between us, I don't know if such a need exists at this moment in time. He tilts my chin up with his thumb and index, dampening the skin as he beckoned me to rise to my feet. I did as asked even though I didn't have to. My body moved before my mind commanded anything. The button on my jeans is released allowing the bulky fabric to drop like a stone. Harry's skin was only a singly shade more than mozzarella cheese, firm though and bathing his muscles that were ordinarily hidden by clothes. His arm had a tattoo of a sailing ship, and one day when I could find my words under a pile of lust I'd ask him about it. I admired his figure - silently of course - in all it's fucking leaning glory. He holds me still and paralysed by shock as his lips meet my jaw in a fleeting act, then floating down my neck in a harmless deed of investigation. He takes my wrist and jerks me toward him, laying my hand flat on his back where I can feel a enormous mark. It's like he read my mind and knew I held back the impulse to touch it. Now that I'd gotten his permission I harmlessly let my finger trace the mark in an effort to match it to one I'd gotten a visual off. I imagined him to be a very attractive young boy on the playgrounds, half of a power couple at high school even but not really. Harry was here, gripping the tail of my shirt like he yearned to rip it and his lips peppering kisses all down my exposed skin. To most people, this is mortifying and any ideas of it should be executed. However, I was not most people, and the open desire for Harry's presence has nailed itself into my train of thought. He moves backward, into the shower and I try to stop him but his will of strength outweighed my own. The water soaked my clothing in hot water and the tiled wall I'd carefully noted to be white tiles pieced together in a puzzle, cools my back when Harry holds me captive in a sandwich between it and him. I felt his dick pressing against my thigh, and my own stiffening not under my command. I moan when I take a full note that Harry is beautifully naked under the shower, and his hips are weapons of destruction as they grind against me. He tugs my shirt over my head, though dampened and made heavy by the mass of collected water droplets, flinging it out of the shower. He attacks my neck and fists my hair to pull my head back painfully. I groan deep in my throat and he loosens his grip. He plants open-mouthed kisses all over the base of my throat, replacing water remnants with his own DNA. For the first time I move my hand further up his back, but he stiffens and removes my wrist to press it against the wall preventatively. His strength is painful and I wince at the pressure. "H-Harry." I choke and he exhales loudly, dropping my hand and pressing his forehead against mine. His eyes are closed and his lips parted. When he reopens them, I get to stare into emerald orbs that match the green fire in a lava lamp or the foresty bliss of one's imagination. But they're broken in some way, deep down I peep into a world of horror. He notices and distracts me by gripping the backs of my thighs, only slightly squeezing me with a smirk. He goes for my boxers and gently tugs it lower and lower on my hips until the hair building up my V-line is exposed completely. He kisses me with a blazing fire that makes me nervous and throws me off balance a little. Getting impatient he tugs the fabric all the way down my legs, ordering me to kick it aside and away. I'd have thought an experience like this would deafen me emotionally because of the rage and disgust, but reality screwed with my mind. I felt critically aware of how Harry's touch left goosebumps on the surface of my skin, making me want to guide his hand all over the surface area so that I could experience it again. His suggestive deeds were blinding but I'd fallen into an irretrievable hole with Harry. A deep, dark and horrific hole with him and nightmares. In my contemplation Harry had lifted me off the ground in a swift and stealthy act that has me gasping in surprise. I would never have thought he would be able to so suddenly hoist anyone off the ground. Appearances can be deceiving. His thick member has found a home against my thigh and I bite down hard on my bottom lip, that unknown pool deep within has started to drown itself. I loose my mental control when his hand skims my thigh in an exploring motion. My stamina turning to a pile of desire and dust. His finger slips between my cheeks to wet every inch of my skin. I hiss from confused need, my eyes screwing shut as I cling to him like a desperate vine. His finger grazes my hole and the nails of his other hand presses into my thigh. He runs the entire length of his abnormally long fingers over the ring of pink sensitive muscle, applying a little pressure with each stroke. I do not want to add another mark on his skin, so I bite my own bottom lip. He enjoys my reaction and does it over and over. I moan low and deep in my throat, only firing him up more. Satisfied with the rubbing motions that serve as a distraction he moves his other hand. "Don't drop your legs." He says with a voice monitored by serious undertones. I do as told and rest my chin on his shoulder, feeling all of his muscles flex against me. I'm panting and breaking; I constrict him to this space only with my legs. He hooks his fingers beneath the fabric of my socks, pealing it off my foot easily and running his hand along the dampened skin on the underside of my foot. He repeats the process with my other sock, alternating hands as he rubs me into a high. "Were you sore?" He suddenly asks. "What?" I blink to get the water away from my eyes. "That night. Did I make you sore?" I stare at him and find the weird feeling of embarrassment creeping onto my expression. I recall the awful ache like I'd had it just yesterday - had I had it just yesterday? - and how amazing I felt before it had commenced. "Yeah." I answer truthfully. "I was pretty banged up." He chuckles at the dark humor and I join in with a victorious smile. When he sobers I observe the change in attitude and he stares at me like I'm on exhibit. I bravely kiss the corner of his mouth and he let's me move to his lips. After an assessment I realise that Harry's deeds has fired up my blood stream and I'm achingly hard against him. With both his hands being occupied by securing my legs around him, he ignores my whimpering pleas. "It'll hurt if I don't use a condom." He says with a frown. Fuck. I can't believe I'm desperately mentally scrambling for alternatives for lube so that Harry could fuck me in the shower. An idea sparks and I spit in my hand, reaching down between us after asking permission with a requesting glance and Harry's nod of agreement. I take a selfish moment to just feel him in my hand as the last time, I was both blind-sided and blindfolded. He was thick and very long in my hand, as I took my time covering him. "Hold tight, Lou." He whispers in my ear. His arms hook around the crook of my knee and lift me off the ground in an obscene manner. I'm squashed between him and the wall, completely exposed to him and not caring. In a fluid movement he pushes upward and forward into me. I hold back a scream from both pain - of remembering the jabbing feeling I experienced - and the pleasure. He gives me no time to adjust to him as he pulls back - my hips shifting forward with his body - and slamming me flush up against the wall again. The once cooling essence of the wall, now burned my skin on contact. He pressed his lips to mine to suppress and mask whatever threatened to explode as he drew out and filled me again. I felt the prodding and penetrating abuse like no other. I enjoyed it. I kissed him back with enough fervent desire to surprise us both, and he relentlessly executes each athletic thrust with precision and fucking excruciating resolution. I bite his bottom lip and he growls. He drags his mouth away from mine and starts sloppily minding places he hadn't left laden with kisses prior. He grips my hair again tightly in his hand so that my neck was as exposed to the steam and water that ran aimlessly behind us. "Hold still, Lou." He orders in a deep voice, like an authority barking a warning or threat. He stills my hips and rocks his at a slow, sustainable pace. His teeth grazes the skin it hasn't met before and he holds me secure when he arrives at the skin of my shoulder. He captures it between his teeth and I dislike the pain but he releases the flesh and I let it go. My dick was throbbing with blood and pre-come. I'd fucking do anything to just come now. "Harry." My voice comes out as a murmur but he hears me and without looking up, takes me in his hand. I hiss and he keeps himself hidden as he drives in and out of my body, laced with aches and soreness all over. He extracts his hard member from me, my body clenching from the movement and expanding to accept him again. He maintains this skilled and rough pace until I'm a mass of ruined testosterone. He takes the liberty of pounding me into exhaustion, back and forth his hips move until my breathing is as shallow and indecipherable as my thoughts. With stretched excitement he pumps my length thrice over, and I explode in his hand. He tightens his grip, the pad of his thumb playing with the tip. When he flicks a bit of skin just beneath the head I groan helplessly. He smirks. "Sensitive?" I go rigid at the memory of him asking me that the previous time we'd done this. Rather, when he'd done this to me. I nod once cautiously to signal my reluctance towards allowing him to carry out any further acts of discovery. I was extremely sensitive but he forced two more thrusts in before pouring himself into me. He hides his face in my neck as he slumps against the wall, ideally pushing into me hilt-deep again making me groan from discomfort. He doesn't notice and I don't bring it to the forefront of his attention. My fingers trail down his spine, it being the only movement I can make, but he stiffens and removes my hand from his back. "No." He murmurs, harmlessly planting a kiss to the underside of my wrists. "I don't think that's fair, Harold." I swallow with effort when his hips keep me pinned in this position, but space existing between our torsos. "I know, Lou." He laces our fingers together and propping them up on his shoulders. "How did you find me?" I ask out of the blue. He shrugs. "You weren't in Middleston when I asked them-" "Woah!" The exclamation was party for Louis' surprise and mostly due to Harry's pressing him further and further into the wall like he wanted to become a part of the structure. "Who did you ask?" "A couple kids. They didn't recognise me." "Harry-" I pause when he grips the unders of my thighs to hold me closer. "You can't just go out anymore. People are looking for you now." He sighs. "I know but I was worried when I couldn't find you myself." "I'm not that important, Harry." I discovered by sneaky movements that touching his face was allowed, so without a distraction I run my knuckles along his jaw. What is this? The question pops unbidden into my mind. What we did, that night a week ago and what we're doing now, what did it stand for? I didn't know the answer, and I wouldn't put that kind of pressure on Harry either. My exhaustion has taken over and my eyelids are heavy, Harry is gentle now when he extracts his softened length from me let's my feet touch the ground. Straightening my posture I let the water wash my and Harry's bodies off before turning the knob. I frown at the pitiful selection of things to watch on television, not even BBC has a decent show on to entertain my otherwise idle mind. I toss the remote onto the vacant couch and go into the kitchen on the hunt for food. Harry is upstairs, sifting through the boxes of clothing I'd recovered from the basement I was granted access to. I salvage what foods I was given by the lovely landlady - Martha - and place the cardboard boxes side by side on the table surface. Harry walks in looking out of place, his hair disheveled and damp, donning an aged white T-shirt with Spongebob boxers. "Is this.....um.." He pinches the fabric of the shirt he has on with concerned confusion. "You look acceptable." I reassure him as I crack open a box that supposedly held a delectable serving of noodles. "Hungry?" He frowns to himself as if trying to remember if he was or not. After deeming the question and answer safe, he nods with a smile and enters the kitchen. "You never told me how you got here." I say giving him a plastic fork and his portion of the food. "You never asked." He keeps a serious face. We sit on the couch and I quickly duck the letters away back into my portfolio. I take up my usual position when I sit on a couch with my legs knotted beneath me and Harry sits uncomfortably on the other extreme end of the mechanism. "How did you get here?" I decide to play his game. "I walked." He answers simply. Opening the folds of the cardboard lid on the box in his hand he stabs his fork into the food. "From.....Psychera?" "Yes." He answers curtly. "How did you get out?" "I cut off their power." I stare wide-eyed at him. "You what?" "I had to get out of there, Lou. It's a really horrible place." "I understand that. I just.......no one saw you?" He looks at the television like it could teleport him elsewhere. "They saw me." Fuck! My heart sinks. "But it's okay. It's safe, I promise." "How can you promise that?!" I raise my voice at his unassuming statements and his attitude towards this is pissing me right off again. "Because I can." He looks at me innocently. "I'll tell you when to worry." "And what happens when that time comes?" "We run."

Notes

Here is the last component of my triple update :D let me know what you think of it! A question was posed with regards to how many chapters are left for the coming of the prologue scene. Your answer is: a good few unfortunately ;)