After the End: Book 4

77. Dickface

Naomis POV

Harry and Louis came crashing into the flat loudly in a way that was hard to ignore. I was all the way in the back bedroom when I heard them; Harry speaking loudly and intensely and Louis  mumbling back almost indecipherable. Oliver was crying, but Harry was certainly the loudest part.

When I found them, they were in the kitchen. Harry was leaning over the sink doing something I couldn't see. Louis was standing stoically against the wall holding Oliver and listening intently as Harry prattled off loudly at him. He looked exhausted.

"Harry, you're really reading very far into the words of an actual lunatic right now," he said earnestly.

"But he knew who you were Louis! Quit bullshitting me and tell me what's actually—" Harry cut off as he turned an saw me in the doorway. The sight of his face caused my eyes to widen. He was using a hand towel to dab dried blood off of his upper lip, clearly from his nose. His temple, which was already a nasty shade of green from the hit he'd taken the previous week was now darkening purple and angry red again. His eyes held the same dazed expression as he'd had after his last head injuries.

"What's going on?" I asked nervously.

Louis took in my expression. Despite my obvious alarm, he sighed like he was relieved to see me and held Oliver out in my direction. I hesitated.

"Please take him," Louis said giving me a look I didn't recognize.

I held out my arms and accepted my son nervously. Oliver seemed upset before but he instantly melted when I got hold of him, his arms wrapping around my neck. Louis had never unsettled him before. It was bizarre.

"Who did that to you?" I demanded, looking Harry's direction. I gestured to his face with my free hand.

Harry's gaze shot to Louis. He had a wide eyed and a panicked look. Louis looked like he was going to say something, but before he could Harry blurted out, "Louis did it."

"You hit him?!" I exploded Louis direction.

"Jesus, no!" Louis said back loudly. He rounded on Harry. "Why the fuck would you tell her that was me?"

"I don't know, I panicked," Harry said just as loud with a nervous shrugging gesture. "What was I supposed to say?"

"I don't know, tell her you fucking fell!" Louis said annoyed.

"That's not believeable at all!" Harry snapped back.

"Harry to be completely honest, basically anything is believable when it involves you!"

Harry looked a little offended.

"I'm literally standing right here," I reminded them both, furrowing my eyebrows. I was now utterly confused. Louis rarely swore infront of the toddler, but the moment I had taken him, his entire demeanor had regressed. He was shakier and more nervous. He'd started pacing some. "What is happening?"

"Nothing," Harry said.

He attempted to take a deep breath and then winced and that's when I noticed the bruises trailing his throat. My eyes widened. Louis seemed to notice me noticing and then groaned.

"That doesn't look like nothing," I countered.

"So they did get more purple on the drive home then?" Harry asked, his hands rising to his throat. "Damn."

"Are you going to tell me what's going on or not?" I demanded looking at Louis. He stared at me for a moment and then looked to the floor dejectedly.

"Oliver wasn't ever in danger," he started weakly.