Clean Criminal // l.s.

xxxvii.

[The video is like one of my favorite songs at the moment. Uhm, so there's 3 chapters left...what do you think will happen? -M]

When Harry walked into the room his father was staying in, his hands were in fists and his mind was only set on strangling the old man. But his mother stopped him at the door, "don't hurt him, please. He still loves you."

Harry shook his mother off of his arm, "if he loved me, I would be invited to family dinners and birthday parties," he whispered, "if he loved me I would not be a social outcast amongst my own blood."

"Harry, please," his mother begged as Harry approached the bed his father laid in. He looked weak-puny even. Harry could take care of him right now, let all of this be over with. Louis would have justice for such a hateful crime.

The older man stirred awake. When his eyes landed on Harry, he closed them again and then spoke, "what do you want from me."

"Mother invited me," Harry stated simply, "and I wanted to stop by anyways."

Harry's father raised and eyebrow and looked at his son with one eye open, "and why's that?"

Harry stared at his father, "I think it's best if you leave mother." His mother started to speak, but Harry silenced her, "I promise I won't hurt him." Reluctantly she left and Harry smirked, chuckling a bit, "I really want to punch you right now."

"Kick me while I'm down? That doesn't seem like little Harold," Harry's dad stated.

"Don't," Harry yelled, "don't call me that." He ran his hand through his hair, "why are you here? Why send me that letter? Is this all a stupid plan of yours do save the world or some shit?"

The injured man sat up in his bed and looked at his son, "I'm not sure what you're referring to."

Harry quickly pulled out the letter from his jacket pocket and read a part of the letter aloud, "I must do what I have to in order to protect my family and future generations." Harry waved the letter around in the air, "are you fucking delusional? Getting rid of the 'homosexuals that plague mankind' isn't going to change the fact that there are wars happening across the ocean, that women are still treated as minorities in cultures, or that people are dying every single day at the hands of another!"

"I'm just looking out for you," he tried to explain, "living that way it's not right, Harry. It's not what I wanted for you-"

"News flash: You don't get to decide what's for me. Hell dad, if I like it up the ass, I like it up the ass. My life is not some game you get to make the rules to. I am not something you get to control."

"But that boy, he's trouble. He-"

"He's made me the happiest I have ever been and you hurt him. Don't think you will go unpunished," Harry stated. He hovered over his father, "I swear to God, if he dies, you will rot in hell."

"I think you mean prison."

"Oh no, I mean hell," Harry replied. He straightened his back and smiled, "see you later, dad," and with that he left the room, ignoring the worried look on his mother's face.

.

"Mr. Styles?" a voice spoke, "Mr. Styles?" they repeated.

Harry slowly woke up, his eyes lazily opening to look at the young nurse, "yes?" he questioned, stretching a bit.

"You're with Louis Tomlinson, yeah?"

Harry's eyes widened, "yes, yes! Is he better? Can I see him? Am I able to see him?"

The nurse smiled, "the doctors say he is welcome to visitors, however, he's sleeping so you'll want to be quiet. He needs to be well rested, surgery wasn't exactly the easiest thing ever."

Harry nodded in agreement and grabbed his things before following the nurse to the room Louis had been sleeping in. He was left alone once the nurse checked up on Louis one more time and he carefully sat his things in an empty chair and then pulled one up next to the bed. He smiled at he sat down and grabbed Louis' ice cold hand. It felt so light in Harry's large hand, like Harry was holding a delicate butterfly in the palm of his hand.

"The nurse says I'm supposed to be quiet, so I'll talk like this," Harry said in a whisper, "it's been a while since I've seen you. You look so tired, my love. I bet you were really strong in there. I bet you fought real hard to be here right now. I'm proud of you, you know that? You've made a lot of accomplishments like how your essay was selected as one of the best in your class. Or that you're in the top ten at the community college. You're really smart, babe. You make me look bad, but that's a good thing, because I like having a smart cookie like you by my side to correct me when I'm wrong."

Harry watched as Louis' chest slowly moved up and down. He wondered if it hurt, if his body was aching or it was hard to breath. He wished they could trade places. He wished it was him laying on the bed, not Louis. Louis didn't deserve any of this. He didn't deserve to know what physical pain felt like. He only deserved love and lots of it.

"This battle isn't over yet, love. We still have to make sure you're okay and well before we can even think about taking you back home. You still have me worried. I just can't imagine life without you. It'd be so messy and chaotic—a catastrophe really. I'm praying for you Louis and I don't really do that often, but I need someone bigger—stronger—than me to save you and I have a feeling God could do that, you know?"

Harry laughed, "remember the time I forgot to do the dishes and you were scolding me. You kept yelling and I just kept laughing and it made you so angry that you threatened to not spend the night ever again, but I just grabbed your waist and lifted you onto the counter. You giggled because I tickled your sides and then leaned in to kiss your neck. You kept talking about the dirty dishes as I kissed you and it's one of my favorite memories, really. I just want to make more memories like those; memories where we're together and just being us without any judgement from anyone else."

Harry let out a sigh, "I really hope we can make more memories like that."