Deliverance [h.s.]

forty-nine | comfort

We've been doing all this late night talking

About anything you want until the morning

Late Night Talking || Harry Styles

*************

"Do you think they feed him?" I spoke softly, head in Harry's lap as we sat on my bed, his fingers delicately lacing through my hair.

"Well, I'm sure they have to," His voice was hesitant.

"Twice a day?"

"Definitely not."

We got home from the games an hour ago, nearly two in the morning, and for the last hour I have been asking Harry any and every question that comes to mind about Elias. If anyone understands this shit we're involved in, it's him. I trust him to be honest with me even if I have my doubts right now.

"Do you think they beat him everyday?"

"No. Probably only when it's convenient, or when they're bored," An honest answer.

I'm not sure it makes me feel better or worse, knowing most days he's alone in a dark basement but i guess i rather that then him being tortured every day.

"What if he's like- like seriously fucked up when he comes back? What if he has brain damage or something?"

"Then we take care of him."

"He wouldn't want to live like that," I shook my head against his lap with a huff.

"Well, in that case, we would put him down; Old Yeller style."

I whipped my head to face Harry, glaring at him from my spot with narrowed eyes as he held back a struggling laugh, working to disguise it as a cough, "That's not funny."

"C'mon baby blue, it was kinda funny," He smirked, pausing to rub his thumb against my temple for a moment, "No matter what, we'll make sure he's taken care of. I'm sure he'll be okay. You think too much, my girl." Harry leaned down, pressing a quick soft kiss to my forehead. "Now, no more sad questions."

"Do you think he hates me?" I ask, voice colored with sorrow.

"No, blue. Not one bit; I don't think he could ever hate you." Another honest answer.

We stayed in silence for a moment, the first second of quiet we've had since stepping through my front door. I don't want it to be quiet though. The silence is far too loud for me to submit to it willingly.

"Do you think-"

"Nope." He places his hand lightly over my mouth, halting my question, "No more sad questions, remember?"

I look up through batted lashes, struggling to keep my eyes open to stay awake, "How do you know it was sad?" I poise innocently.

His shoulders slump with a soft upturn of his lips, "C'mon, you can't lie to me."

"Fine, it was a sad question."

"Mm, just like I thought."

Can he blame me? I don't think so. I think it's justified to be curious of the horrors unfolding behind closed doors, horrors from the fate of my hands. I think maybe, just maybe, my brain would've been still for once had today not gone the way it did. From the start with Harry to the theatrics of the evening; I lost the race before I even started.

But as Jax said, the night isn't all bad. With the duffles of cash that came from Steele for Mac and I, plus the generous 80,000 dollar hand out at the games; we've ended the night with 405,000 dollars more than what we started with.