Impulse

Chapter 42

*NARRATOR'S POV*

Dexter had one purpose, just like the reason behind everything he did it was premeditated and carefully executed. He wasn't a hateful man if not provoked but right now he was fuming because the person he meant to capture isn't here. Instead, he has the boy who he moved on from but never forgot about.

Louis is still as beautiful as he was in that single photograph stolen from him by Dexter's own kin. The boy looked ethereal, magical. His eyes were closed but the skin of his eyelids sealing them up threatened to be so soft, so addictive. Little purple and red veins were visible from beneath the papery pale skin.

On his side the boy lay, unconsciously curled up with the occasional twitch from his fingers. His lips were parted and he breathed heavily even in this forced slumber, clothes dirtied but that did nothing to ruin his angelic appearance. On a filthy stone floor Louis added the light that previously never existed.

Dexter could see why his sons would defy him for this innocent soul. He can't think of a damned thing he wouldn't do for someone this precious.

He felt like a criminal for the first time, taking this which isn't his. Never will it be his and he didn't feel the loss now that he had his own star. In spite of these reassurances as he paced around the limp form of his sons' lover, he felt the anger being born and primmed inside his chest.

He went for that woman and she evaded him like she was expecting him, incidentally leaving this boy to get nabbed instead. Dexter knelt by Louis' head and curled his fists so he wasn't tempted to touch him. This person isn't his and he had no right.

Dexter would never allow a person on this earth to touch his own star, his wonderful beauty. How can he ever allow himself or anyone else to bend the rules by his sons? He has to do the right thing here even if he didn't want to.

Maybe later though because he'll resent this opportunity if he didn't at least have a little fun first.

* * * * *

When she saw him first he was a few meters away behind a benchmark pillar in the otherwise empty parking lot. It wasn't so barren when they got here, but the hour meant that many people with families and partners had gone home to them.
Anne began to fret the second she recognised those red locks, like fire and molten lava on the shoulders of a demon. She opened her mouth to shout something at Louis, but no voice escaped her dry throat and only her flight instinct worked.

She saw the whole thing and despite her connection with Louis, she couldn't bring herself to help him.

Dexter was too much of a threat to her and her heart. She could never return to his life or his arms. Never. It didn't matter what it would cost her. Her boys will understand after so many years of being by her side through thick and thin. How can they not?

Not to mention, the biggest worry is how were they found? How did Dexter, a permanent refugee in Middleston, ever come to know about them in Seattle?

* * * * *

Louis felt his head spinning and his whole core of gravity tilting on its axis to add further dizziness to his symptoms. He groaned and held his forehead in his dominant hand, keeping his eyes closed until he was certain eighty percent of his senses were fully functional.
Then he realised that the surface his free hand held onto was plush and springy, leading to his initial reaction of panicking. The added adrenaline made him jump off the contraption to identify it as a bed in a foreign room that is dusty and dark, the air damp and heavy.

He looks all around him at every possible angle but can't see further than what the stingy light bulb above his head wanted him to see. His feet were cold and his bones rattled with shivers, his crossed arms doing little to sustain the body warmth.