Quick Message:
Please don't ask me to write the next chapter because it puts a lot of pressure and stress on me. I work all week and still take the time to draw art and write these books for you so it really pressures me when you ask to "update again". I try my best to update regularly for you and those comments can't make me write any faster.
Sorry if I sound as if I'm complaining because I appreciate every single one of you and I know that those comments are meant well, but please don't put pressure on me. I'm trying my absolute best. Xx

Hello! I hope that you'll enjoy this chapter and the art. I've uploaded a lot of new art on my instagram this week so you can see a lot of it there. (instagram: lhnameless)

Please vote, comment, and share.

My love, Lucy. X

*

A tiny orange light danced in a black abyss. Like a butterfly carried by a passing breeze, it floated there in the darkness. It approached, trembling, floating-warm. Louis opened his eyes properly, and saw the orange flame of a single candle, sitting on a bedside table.

"Are you awake?" A voice said. It seemed to echo in Louis' mind, sounding distant as if he were still sleeping. Louis followed it, and by the bedside table was Harry. His hair was down, his elbows pressed into the mattress as he knelt by Louis' side. A warm towel was in his hand. Louis closed his eyes again. "You found me.. I thought.. that I was going to be outside all night.."

Harry's hand came to rest on Louis' forehead, on a plaster that he must have stuck there. Louis had plasters and bandages all over himself, he could feel them, but they weren't his own. "You'd have to kill me before I could ever leave you outside all night. You're always welcome here."

Louis didn't open his eyes, but he let himself melt into the fluffy pillows and the hand that stroked his face. He'd not felt this warm in a long time, nor had he ever felt so peaceful. "Do you really mean it? That I'm always welcome here?"

"I do." Harry replied, "If ever you need a place of comfort, just bang on the door, and I'll come for you."

"That makes me happy." Louis said, in a voice so serene that Harry wondered if he were going to sleep again. Louis wondered that, too, but he didn't want to sleep despite the fact that it must have been late at night. He wanted Harry more than anything in the world. And so, with his eyes still closed out of fatigue, he put his arms out and searched the abyss for his place of comfort, and he found it, and pulled it into a hug.

Harry seemed surprised at first, and tensed up when Louis wrapped his arms around his torso, but then he relaxed and climbed onto the bed, pressing his knee onto the mattress and leaning over so Louis could lie down. Louis lay on his back, moved his arms from Harry's torso to his neck, and Harry just leant over him. He sat on the side of the bed, hands on each side of Louis' body, pressed into the mattress, and the boy said, "You smell of soap."

"It's shaving foam." Harry said, "Do I smell bad?"

Louis nuzzled into Harry's neck and Harry squirmed away awkwardly when Louis sniffed him. Louis opened his eyes, and they were bluer than Harry had ever seen before. "Did you just giggle?" Louis asked, wrinkling his nose.

Harry shook his head, "No, of course not."

Louis put a bandaged hand out and tugged on one of Harry's curls to pull him back down, "Yes you did, I heard you."

Harry followed where Louis' hand lead him, and he leant over the boy, holding onto the headboard of the bed. He smiled, "Maybe I did." he admitted, "You should sleep, it's late."

Louis' smiled faded, and Harry watched his face turn from peace to fear to panic to pure terror when he realised the situation that he was in. He pushed Harry back and sat up, eyes wide, heart thumping. "I have to go home." He said. "Mother is alone. I must leave. I must return to her." He began to climb out of the bed but Harry pulled him back, dragging Louis into his arms. Louis began to cry out of panic, gripping Harry's shirt, and Harry rocked him from side to side.

Louis cried loudly, trembled, struggled to breathe, but Harry had experienced this before. He used to get panic attacks when he'd been first diagnosed with bone cancer. His parents would comfort him, Rosaline would as well, and when she kissed him, he'd return to reality.

And he kissed Louis.

Harry grabbed Louis' face; it was wet with tears and his nose was running and he looked a complete and utter mess, but Harry kissed him with as much love as he'd given to Rosaline, perhaps, although he didn't know it, he gave Louis more.

Their kiss was not deep, nor was it perfect, but Louis forgot his panic for a moment, and that moment grounded him. Harry pulled away and wiped his lips, then he wiped Louis' face with the towel, and pushed the boy's chest until he was laying among the plump pillows of the bed again. "Did that surprise you?" Harry asked, and Louis nodded. "At least, now, your panic attack has stopped."

"Do you kiss all of your friends?" Louis asked. Harry watched him, his eyes shifting between Louis' blue ones.

"Not really." He said, "You've never been like them, I don't think."

"Are we not friends?" Louis' voice was shaking, the fear of rejection crawling back to him, but Harry smiled, and every worry suddenly vanished.

"Friends.." Harry said, although it was a reminder to himself. "You were never just a friend. You are the warmth, the adrenaline, the wings, the blooming flowers, the safety.. You are many things, Louis, that make my days better. You were never just a friend."

Tears of happiness, this time, gathered in Louis' eyes, and then his bottom lip was trembling, and he threw his arms around Harry. Harry held him back, squeezed the boy's body, rocked him side to side, and he was crying, as well. But, despite what you may have thought, it was not out of happiness.

*

Sunlight woke Louis up. It hit his face, turning his skin golden and his blue eyes even lighter than they already were. As soon as he felt the warmth of it, Louis smiled. At home, he'd only ever wake up to cold draughts and darkness as Mother never let those moth-bitten curtains part.

However, as he lay there, Louis slowly remembered this warm feeling from a time in the past. It was a strange feeling of déjà-vu, something that he was certain had happened before, and it was only when a cloud passed in front of the sun to create a shadow for a few seconds that Louis remembered.

In a second, his mind had flashed back to a cot, sitting in a bare room with white plastered walls and creaking floorboards. Mould gathered on the ceiling by the door where water had leaked through. Louis could remember standing in his cot, holding onto the rickety bars, and crying. He could remember his stomach growling and a bee hitting the glass of the window in attempt to escape. Dust had gathered in the room, had settled on the floorboards and windowsill, and it floated in the air.

The sunlight was all that came to look after the baby in his cot. It seeped into the room, took the shape of each rectangular windowpane, and hit the cot as if to say 'good morning'.

Louis had been alone that day, locked in a cot, screaming and crying his heart out for someone to get him out and give him a drink. From the outside, the baby could be heard screeching, and yet no one had been there to listen. He'd been a lonely baby in a lonely room, in a lonely house, in a lonely street where no one but drunks, rapists, and old folk ever walked. It had been a terrible life for someone so young.

Louis' mother had only returned long after the sun had passed. The night had crawled upon them, but ran and cried when she scooped her son up from the cot. She held him and hugged him and apologized over and over again. The Mother had given her child a kiss, had given him warm milk and honey, and had rocked him to sleep.

'I've been gone for so long, worked so hard, but I still don't have enough money to feed you. We will have to go hungry, my love..'

Louis could remember falling asleep in her arms, but then, her voice came back to him, and he'd never heard it in so much pain before. 'He hurt me. I don't know his name, but he had a rough way on handling the things that he loved. I wanted to work hard for you, to raise more money, but he didn't give me it. He only gave me bruises and a ten pound note. I wanted to ask for more money, my Darling, I really did. I wanted to tell him about you, about the need to buy your food and nappies and toys, but if he were to find out that one of his girls had a child, he'd send out his men to kill us. Men like that are dangerous, Louis. Please, don't let them find you. Please, work hard at school so you never need to be affiliated with them. Please, don't ever go out of my sight.'

Louis suddenly sat up in bed, heart pounding. He'd forgotten this woman, this person that had sacrificed everything she'd ever had for her son, and yet he still lived with her. Those men that she'd spoken of were old gang members who'd hire prostitutes. Mother had never attended school because her parents had been horribly sick and she'd been at home to look after them. But they'd both had dementia, and as Mother had grown older, her parents forgot all of the help that she'd given. They'd called her 'ungrateful' and 'unloving', and they'd thrown her out of the house. Mother had been assaulted many times by many people, and then somewhere along the way, Louis had been born.

It all made sense, now. Louis realised that Mother was afraid to leave the house because she feared those men. She was petrified of Louis leaving her in case her beloved child would never return home. But most of all, her obsession with him had surely come from the fact that he had been the only one in the whole world to love her without giving her any pain.

Louis sat there for a long while, staring at nothing at all, just trying to remember his mother, trying to remember her before she became the horrible thing that lived in the house. He didn't find any other memory, but that single flashback had been enough to prove that Mother had treasured him once.

He clambered out of bed and pulled the sheets back up. The corner of the other side of the duvet was turned over and the trace of someone's head was formed a dip the pillow. An empty bottle of water lay on the bedside table beside it, and a picture of a woman was there; Louis walked up to it and picked the picture up. She was beautiful, Rosaline, and there was no doubt in Louis' mind that it was her. She seemed young, perhaps a little older than Louis, but no more than twenty. She had skin so fair that she looked as if the sun had never touched her. Her eyes were blue and looked just like Louis', and yet her hair was long and jet black, formed into loose curls that rested on her shoulders. She wore a gold ring on her finger, and a dress of white swan feathers. Louis looked at the ring for a long while. He'd seen it before, he was certain that he had. He observed the imprint of a heart in it, and then he pondered for a bit, and pulled the bedside table's drawer open. A few books were in there, a small pack of unmentionable items that had not been opened, a worn out teddybear with ballet slippers on, and a tiny red velvet box. Louis nodded. He knew that he'd find it here, that Harry's love for Rosaline was too strong to let such a thing go. And so the boy glanced at the bedroom door, and he opened the box.

A matching gold ring with the imprint of a heart stared back.

*

A loud crashing noise coming from above made Louis quickly put the box back and pretend as if he'd never even opened the drawer. He heard Harry shout in either anger or frustration, or perhaps both, and then another loud crash made the walls tremble. Louis followed the sound to the ballet studio. He crept up the stairs, silently, and poked his head over them to see Harry sitting on the floor in his ballet attire, looking stressed and angry with both the world and himself. He sat there for a long time, panting, face twisted in pain, but Louis couldn't see what hurt.

After a moment, Harry stood up, bent over himself, teeth clenched, and then he stretched his arm out and growled again. He was in so much pain that tears ran down his cheeks, and Louis was so shocked to see him in this state that he didn't even think to go up and help.

Slowly the pain passed, and Harry stopped panting and stretching and crying, and it was only then that he saw Louis. He stood up straight and looked away. Louis decided that it was time to intervene, and he pushed the glass door to the ballet room open.

"I heard a loud noise.." He said, walking up to Harry cautiously. "Are you alright? Did you fall?"

"How long have you been standing there?" Harry growled. Louis was alarmed by his tone of voice and took a step back.

"I just got he-"

"Sorry. I didn't mean to say that. I apologize." Harry interrupted. He turned back to Louis and gave him a smile, putting a hand out. Louis took it carefully, and Harry knelt down in front of him. "Did you sleep well?" He asked, "Would you like some breakfast?"

Louis did want some, but he had something that he needed more. "I have to go home." He said, "Mother is afraid."

*

It took a lot of convincing to get Harry to agree, but Louis finally managed to go back to his little cottage. Harry watched him from the car, and Louis felt that concerned gaze on him while he turned the doorknob. He pushed the door open, poked his head around it, and no one made a sound. He shut it, and suddenly felt very scared. Had he killed Mother? If he were to go into the kitchen, would she be rigid on the floor? That thought terrified him, hurt him, and it was that pain of losing Mother that made him almost smile when he saw her asleep on the sofa.

He sat down on the floor, and then, he coughed.

Mother stirred, her blue eyes opened, and in a split second of seeing her son, she lunged at him. Louis scampered back over the floorboards. Mother crawled towards him. "Are you alright, Mother?" he asked, trying with all of his little heart to not sound afraid.

"Where were you?!" She snarled, "Why did you leave Mother alone?!"

And Louis shook his head, backed into the corner of the room. He was terrified, it was written all over him, but despite of that, he smiled. "Mother, what do you mean?" He said, "I have been here all along."

*

I hope that you liked it, I'm not sure how clear this chapter was to understand because I feel like it wasn't, so just drop any questions that you have and I'll get back to you X

What do you think of Louis' mother now that you know more about her past?

A/N in case you didn't understand:
- At the end of the chapter, Louis is just messing with his mother's mind because he knows that she forgets things. He just convinced her that he'd been there all along and had never left.
- Louis' mother was a gang prostitute because she had no money nor the experience to find a job that could pay enough to raise her son correctly. She is scared that gang members will find her and kill Louis so she doesn't leave the house anymore to avoid that. She is now still a prostitute, but does not serve the gang anymore.
- The ring in Harry's bedside table drawer was his engagement ring to Rosaline. Louis had seen him wearing it on the first day that they met. He hadn't seen it since.