Hide & Seek (Larry Stylinson AU)

*LOUIS' POV* "Who is the man from the closet, Phoebe?" Harry now speaks, abrupt and the cherry laughter drops from her cheeks at his stern voice.  "Ruppie. He's nice now, Lou." She answers earnestly.  "Ruppie? As in Rupert?" Rupert. Fuck! He's the man from the closet. He was in here? How if the window is shut and latched from within? Harry has turned to stone behind me.  "Yeah. He gave me this and-"  "Give it to me." Harry demands and I do not appreciate the tone he is using with her so I take what she has instead and warn him off with a glare.  It's a black case. Slender and made of a soft fabric like cotton or wool. I pass it to Harry inevitably before turning to a lax but confused Phoebe.  "Why don't you come sleep in the living room?" I make myself come across more insisting than suggestive.  "Okay." She gets up, sounding disappointed but listens to the only remaining individual who knew exactly what was good for her and what isn't.  Harry let's her pass and I ensure that she's curled up on the new couch, in front of the television. I say nothing. I don't know what to say. Accuse Harry of not keeping her safe?  "What I that?" I ask about the mystery object.  "It's a knife case." He answers through a tight jaw and a frosty glare.  A knife case? Why the fuck is a knife case in this mess? I frown, my skin feeling tight and so cold in the exposure.  "I didn't think he'd show up again." Harry hisses when we're in the kitchen and Phoebe is out of ear shot.  I didn't want him to do something rash but I needed to keep my sister safe. "What made you so sure?" Harry slams his fist on the cold, weak surface and Phoebe's head lifts to see what happened. I smile weakly at her and she goes back to watching cartoons.  "I fucking took care of him. That's what made me so sure." Harry's voice is lethal on its own terms, dripping and spreading venom from fertilised hatred.  "Harry." I warn him and his language. Surprise is evident in my eyes when I hear him curse.  "Sorry." He mutters halfheartedly.  "I thought you didn't swear." "I never said I didn't swear." He bites back. "I just hate when you do." Well that made no sense. "What about Rupert now? He's going near my sister, Harry. She's defenseless." "I'll.....I'll handle it." He runs his fingers, three out of five have silver rings on them. "We have to go back." "Back? Back where?" "Middleston. To the house. Phoebe can't come with us, it's too dangerous for her." "Why should I come? I have to stay with her." "You have to." His eyes are cold, hard. Dead. "I need you there." I suck in a deep, long breath of irritation and reflection. "Fine. She can stay with Martha downstairs and we'll only be gone for a day." "No more." He looks at Phoebe then back at me. "We'll go in five days." Five days? Why the fuck must we wait for five days when this maniac is after my family now? "I have to make sure of something first." Harry answers my unasked question. "Come with me." He takes my forearm and leads me out of the open space into the passage. "Wait. Phoebe." "She'll be fine here. He won't come in."  I'm about to ask again whether he was sure enough for me to leave the choice in his hands, but silence my thoughts when we stop in front of the attic door. A form of mystery far too closed off to be reachable, yet attractive enough all the same.  "The attic?" I accuse.  "Yes." "What are you doing?"  "Opening it." "How did you get the keys?" "Martha gave it to me." He answers as he swiftly unlocks it and a whiff of aged paper hits us. "Yesterday." Oh. "Why didn't you tell me?" He doesn't answer me and pushes past the wooden door to jump up the steps three at a time. I leave the door open and follow suit. Everywhere is dusty and I can't hold back a sneeze when a few particles reach my sensitive nose.  Boxes. Boxes. Boxes. That's all around me, each coated with a layer of grey fuzzballs and the occassional red string from the aged contents. Harry throws a box aside carelessly before grabbing another marked with an illegible word.  "Harry?" I try to get his attention, not entirely sure why we're up here. The floating light bulb flickers weakly.  Has he marked his territory with this room? I look around the space. It isn't much, but for one person it's more then enough. The bed has a single mattress that's filled with feathers and dust. The same goes for the accompanying pillow.  No electrical service besides the overhead bulb that is bound to blow any moment now. The window is yellow with pieces of wood jutting out from the corners.  He removes something the back of jeans, loosening the waistband by placing the object on a crowded desk. The knife case. Fuck it makes sense now.  "Is that how you took care of Rupert?" I don't bother keeping my voice down.  He says nothing and doesn't face me or my anger. Well fucking great. I knew when I spoke he never heard a damn thing.  "And is this the message he's sending?" I scream.   No reponse.  "Why the fuck, Harry?" I yell, combing my unruly hair with my fingers. "I told you not to hurt anyone!" "He didn't feel pain." Harry almost chuckles when he turns around. "He's dead, Lou." My heart sinks and my mind relapses. "He's dead? He can't be because Phoebe just said he was there!" "She's not lying." "Stop fucking with me, Styles." I glare at him.  He sighs, looking at his boots before me. "He's like my Mother now." Fucking twisted. "What does that mean?" "He's dead.......but not going anywhere." Fucking Hell. "You mean ghosts?" And no response from his side of the suffocating room.  "Everyone you kill just becomes a ghost then?" He frowns. "I don't know. Some do and some don't." "Is this that crossing over and unfinished business shit?" "I don't know what shit this is, Louis. Honestly." I sigh and shove my hand into my jeans pocket. "I'm going back down. I'm not leaving my sister alone ever and neither are you." Harry nods, understanding my frustration and awful guilt if something were to happen to Phoebe. She's lost everyone except me, I couldn't let anything destructive happen.  "Louis!" Phoebe shouts from downstairs.  I rush downstairs in a flash faster than any when panic sets in, bashing past the attic door and briefly glancing at everything I pass just to make sure. Harry is right behind me. My mind races with vicious imagery as we go into the living room, but she is sitting perfectly fine on the couch.  "Phoebe?" I look at her questioningly.  She points to the TV. "Our home's on the news." My first ordinary question would be to ask why she was watching the news, but after laying eyes on the familiar front door I squash all other thoughts.  Middleston's Massacre My ribcage closes in painfully on my vital organs. Harry steps closer to the television set and I stay put between the couch and kitchen counter. The reporter is a new lady, standing under an unbrella but it's not raining in the background.  "Officials from Bridgeville and Dynasville have just arrived on the scene of a horrific mass murder here in the quiet town of Middleston. It's said that this town has been sitting a rotting grave site for three days until a travelling bus stopped to fill gas and called in the news. Psychera authorities suspect that the individuals behind this, would be those that recently escaped from their grounds. There is no need to panic yet, folks. All the prisoners are captured and once again in detention." Harry's tension fills the room, no need for mine. Phoebe watches on without disgust and I've never kept her from the truth, neither has Dad. That's why she can stomach so much these days. "They're lying." He says darkly.  "Why would they?" I don't understand.  "Because they're trying to keep things calm. They probably don't have a single one locked up." "Are those people gonna hurt us?" Phoebe's innocence is all we can recognise in her question.  Harry turns away, back to the television. I answer her. "No, love. They won't hurt us." "There are survivors. Few but strong-willed youngsters have made it through this tragedy. Their names are listed on Middleston's PD database where you can call in if you wish to help out." The website. I can check for anyone who's been a friend, make sure they're alright. I couldn't do anything with our family's assets now. Dad's accounts would be frozen and I'd be unable to do anything until I can get them in my name. Shit.  I pull out my phone and bring up Middleston's Police database on my screen. I go through the names listed as a PDF file on the home screen. I sigh, relieved to see so manu familiar names. Marie. Zayn. Even the bugger Niall is on there. Dad (also formally known as Ed Tomlinson). They're all okay.  "Good news, Phoebe." I smile at my sister. "Dad's okay." She grins to express her thrill at hearing our father is still alive and hopefully well.  "Can we go see him?" She asks.  And there's the clincher. "I hope so. We'll call in tomorrow, okay?" She nods, slowly turning to Harry. "We can go see your family too." Harry looks at her with a weak smile. "Can't do that, sweetheart." Her happiness fades when that tiny understanding comes to life. "I'm sorry, Harry." He goes to sit down next to her, looking like a giant beside her tiny frame and golden locks. "It's alright. You still have yours." "You can be a part of our family then." She offers him her hand.  He smiles for real this time before taking her offer. "Thanks." We decide, on the dose of our lighter mood and attempts to forget all negative situations, to all sleep in the lounge in front of the television. We drag the mattress from the bedroom to the living room, letting it lie in the center of the room on the rug after Harry pushes the couch back.  Phoebe is self-appointed pillow duty and she fills the space with every kind she can get her hands on. Harry tries to ease his irritation, lightly batting me with a cushion and gesturing for me to watch Phoebe fumble with setting the 'bed'.  We rudely laugh to ourselves and when she looks up we crack up loudly.  "Hey!" She puts her hands on her hips.  Harry laughs so much he bends over and rests his hands on his knees. I've never seen him laugh so freely before. It makes my laughter easier.  "We'll help." Harry volunteers us after I throw him a death glare.  We do assist her and when it's done, all our work goes to waste when we just flop down on the creation in exhaustion.  "Can I have your phone?" Phoebe asks.  "Ask Harry." I mock his ancient device and he elbows me. "Here."  She kindly takes both our communication devices and starts her investigation of invading our privacy. I have no inappropriate items on there so she should be safe.  "She's amazing." Harry says to me.  We're sitting with our backs against the foot of the couch, I'm sitting on the gap formed between the mattress and it so that I didn't have any pressure down there.  "She is." I smile looking at my sister. Her brows are furrowed in deep concentration.  "How old is she?" "Six or thirteen."  He laughs, his head back on the seat of the couch and his Adam's Apple so exposed.  "Six. She's six." I finalise.  "Oh that's why." "Why what?"  "Why she trusts me. It's not........the usual case." "She has sharp intuitive skills. She trusts you for a reason other than the fact that you bought her clothes." I remember something. "What was the secret you told her?" "Can't tell you." He chuckles when I frown. He goes a little pink and I find it more alluring than repulsive.  "Fine." I drag my eyes away. "I will find out though." "Good luck." "Why do you wear rings?"  He stares at his hand like he only now realised he had them on. "I just like them." "To be honest, I think you and swearing are good together." I try to make my tone nonchalant.  He looks at me with a sense of earnesty. It's so alien coming from him, an emotion riddled with deep and beautiful things yet it can all ruin you. "She's not looking." He suddenly says and at first I don't understand what he's trying to get at. Then I do.  *NARRATOR'S POV* They thought she hadn't been paying attention to them, but she had. When Louis' hesitancy evaporates and Harry plants an urgent kiss to his lips, she uses the silent camera to snap a photo before going back to being pretend oblivious.  She knew what they were together. There was a boy, Daniel, in her class who had two daddies and never got offended when people mocked him for it. She liked Harry, he was nice to her and Louis though sometimes he can get angry. Everyone does, she thinks.  She won't tell Louis about the photo. When the time is right, all this is over and all that counts has been completed he will find it. She hopes he'll remember this day when he does. Remember it forever.  *LOUIS' POV* "Okay." I announce to the giggling girl. "Time to sleep, Phoebe." I take our phones from her and place it on the coffee table a few feet away. Tomorrow's Monday and I have to wake up at eight. I groan and set a quick alarm.  "Can I sleep in the middle?" She asks sweetly.  "Sure." Harry answers her before I can.  She gets under the comforter between us and turns to face me before yawning. Harry remains in a seated position, not sliding down to rest even when I do.  "Are you nocturnal?" I ask, my eyelids drooping.  "Go to sleep, Lou."

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