Larry Stylinson - Turning From Praise (AU)

14.

Freedom was sweet, and Louis fully intended to take advantage of it.

He had a pretty good idea of where Harry would be, the places where he tended to go, and so he wandered the streets, systematically checking them all for a peripheral flash of curly hair or a metal-studded face. It took him a good half hour before he decided to check the area around the shop where he’d had his lip pierced, and it came as a shock when he finally found what he’d been looking for after he’d long since given in and was patiently walking around without really expecting to find anything.

Harry was sitting on the wall looking moodily down at his phone when Louis rounded the corner, and he had to do a double take to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. Harry had changed again. He had his septum pierced, and when Louis looked at him a little harder, he could see a distinct tinge of deep purple on the underside of the tufty, loose curls that fell across Harry’s forehead.

Licking his lips, Louis approached, and when he’d reached Harry, he sat down on the wall beside him. He was close enough that he could feel the warmth of Harry’s body pouring off him, but not touch him; close enough to see the anger simmering beneath the surface, but not close enough to have any of it expended on him. Harry thrummed with energy, and none of it seemed good. They stayed silent for a few moments, staring down at the ground, and Louis wasn’t entirely sure what to say. In the end, Harry broached the silence for him.

“Careful,” he said savagely. “Don’t touch me, or you’ll descend straight into the fiery pits of hell…or is that why you’re here? To save me from my sins? Baptise me and cleanse me of all evil and pack me off to Sunday school?”

Louis closed his eyes and tilted his head back a little. He’d expected a vicious response, but that did hit a little close to home. “That was harsh, and you know it.”

There was a little pause, and then Harry exhaled heavily. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I suppose it was.”

Morosely picking at a loose fibre on his sweater, Louis sneaked a glance at Harry and found that Harry was looking from underneath his newly purple hair at him, too. They both smiled in spite of themselves and Louis couldn’t bring himself to look away.

“When did they let you out?” asked Harry quietly.

“This morning. I was gonna call you, but they wiped your number off my phone when they confiscated it. Sorry.”

“Doesn’t it have a password?”

Louis shook his head. His mother didn’t approve of him having passwords on things. “We’ll have no secrets in this household, thank you very much.”

Well, that had gone pretty much out of the window.

“You’ve changed,” he commented. “What’s with the hair?” He cautiously reached out, caught a strand of Harry’s hair between his fingers and lifted it up to examine the deep, metallic purple underneath.

Harry shrugged. “Felt like it.”

“And the…this?” Louis cautiously tapped the ring through Harry’s nose, painstakingly gentle since it was a fairly new piercing.

Another jerky shrug, but Harry’s eyes seemed a little less guarded and he appeared to have softened already. “I was angry.” When Louis looked confused, he elaborated, “When other people are angry, they yell at people or scream or throw things. When I’m angry, I get piercings. It gives me something else to think about. And if I’m angry enough, I’ll never take it out, so I’ll remember never to forgive them. If they deserve forgiving, then I take it out, the hole closes up, and that’s that. A new start.” His eyes flitted a little worriedly over Louis’ face.