Love is the rhythm of the heart. The lyrics being trust.

*LOUIS' POV*

I was changed into corduroy pants that was stiffer than anything should be, along with a hospitable choice of a T-shirt that did nothing at all for body warmth regulation. Harry's jacket stayed with me, because he didn't ask to have it back.

He was, oddly enough, very tense starting from the moment we stepped inside this house. He stuck to me like adhesive glue and never said anything more than a simple yes or no. It was completely unlike his usual polite demeanour - especially like when he was first speaking to Olivia on the porch.

"Are you lost?" One of Olivia and John's - her husband in suspenders and spectacles - daughters, Ally, asks me directly. Her skin was exceptionally pale much like every other member of this family.

"We are." I tell her, gripping the mug of tea in my hand a lot tighter and burning my palm.

"Why?"

"Because it's easy to get lost at night."

"Are you scared?"

"Of the night? No. Are you?"

She laughs lightly. "No!"

"Good because there's nothing to be afraid of."

"Things in the night are scary."

I frown. "What things?"

"Ally." Her father warns emptily.

"All you have to do is close your eyes and they'll be gone."

"Really?"

"Yup."

She waits a moment silently before smiling and returning to the television show at hand. I couldn't recognise a single mascot that was dancing around like drunken puppets, so I chose to discard the interest for it was mild.

"Where are you going?" The other daughter, Octavia, looks up from the television remote.

"Back home."

"Where do you live?"

Harry's discretion is knocking elbows with me went ignored. "Dynasville."

"I've only been there once."

"I haven't explored yet but maybe we will."

Harry was rigid in his seat, his back far from the couch rest and his arms plastered to mine. His skin was sweaty and kept sticking to me, creating an undesirable skin-on-skin sound everytime we pulled apart.

Olivia walked into the room and perched herself on the armrest of her husband's chair. The grand and probably ancient contraption of leather whined beneath her.

"Dinner ready?" John doesn't look up from folding his Daily Times. The issue is old and torn at the edges, probably because they're so far out from civilisation and only get the paper once in a blue moon.

"Yes. Girls, why don't you show the boys to the bathroom and get washed up?" She replies with a polite smile.

"Okay!" Ally drops her crayon and hurries to her feet. "Come on. We'll show you."

I get off the couch, motivated by the promise of food after such a long time of surviving on take-out and leftovers. I hear my neck crack and elbow joint snap into relaxation before I'm ready to shuffle my feet forward.

"Coming?" I tug on one of Harry's many, many curls since the lounge is now empty.

He nods stiffly and rises to his massive height. His shadow completely overcomes my own before I walk ahead, his hand on my back as if to keep me there.

The girls sprint up the steps full of giggles and fun, looking back every so often to make sure we're still following them. I smile reassuringly at them each time.

Outside the bathroom, in a lit up but narrow passageway Harry pulls me to a halt while the young girls go into the bathroom.

"We need to leave." He says, curt and sharp.

"Huh?" I scoff. "What happened to staying here until morning and thinking I'm an neurotic idiot?"

"I never said those things, and I'm serious."

"Well, so am I and you can't just suddenly change your mind now after-" A low, empty groan
cuts off Louis' argument.

It seemed to have come from within the house, from the depths of its basement or maybe the attic looming above them. I was quick to check the bathroom to see if the girls were okay, only they weren't there.

Everything had aged abundantly in a matter of minutes. Seconds even. Where the mosaic tiles once stood plastered masterfully on the wall, now several chunks of porcelain lay sprawled across a rubber mat that's growing damp mould. The window sill is shattered and only the top frame remains, the glass piece having been crushed a long while ago. The curtain is in shreds beside it and the toilet has long since been drained of water.

I don't think twice before rushing downstairs, Harry hot on my heels as I take each athletic jog down a step. Taking turns, the wood of the staircase moan hungrily and it fills me with frightful dread. It can't be happening. No. I muttered silent prayers under my breath but Harry was composed, unafraid to the naked eye. Except, I've known him longer than most cared to and I had more insight. He was as terrified as I was.

The atmosphere finally set and it was nothing short of uneasy, unnerving and daunting. Everything grew silent, even the house. There was a sense of unlikened finality about this.
I reached behind me to grab Harry's hand just to know he was there, that he hadn't been lost already. The hand I grabbed didn't belong to him though. "Oh God."

Notes