Let's Roll- Larry Stylinson

Chapter XXVIII

Another week follows, Louis' plants barely showing any sign of growth. A few vines have sprouted here and there and it makes Louis giddy with excitement. He keeps up with them as much as he can, watering them on the daily according to Harry's instruction. There's still not much else to do and the gardening serves to keep Louis busy, usually sitting out by the patch of the dirt and inspecting the growth. Harry brought a journal with him the next week, advising Louis on charting their development. Louis will sit outside with it, doodling how he thinks his plants will look and jotting down how much water he's been giving each plant. Louis likes doing it, the repetitiveness of it making it a little easier to cope with the situation. It feels like he's starting to grow some roots, physically and mentally.

Thursday rolls around. Wind breaks through the open windows. It rattles the house, Louis actually fearful of the outcome if the wind blew too hard. It reminds him of the three little pigs, how the pig with the house made of wood got his house blown down by the big bad wolf. He stays inside today, listening to the whistle of the wind, trying to decipher words of passer-byers. He closes his eyes for a bit, outside noise stronger today, like a lullaby to him.

His nap is interrupted by the slam of a door, Harry sprinting into the room with sheer panic. "He's here, I know it. We have to leave we have to-" The dirt path crunches as shoes move along it and by the sound, there are a lot. "Shit, Shit, SHIT." Harry is ushering Louis out back, hand clamping his and Louis' mouths shut.

"Styles." The singsong filters through the wind, Louis' blood going cold. "Heard you bucked it to Timbuctoo. Police gave up the search after the first try, good for nothing cops." Louis can hear movement, gravel kicked as the person shuffles closer to the front door. "But I'm not so quick to back down. It took a while, but I managed to snag some information. Heard you went south. Some word of mouth brought me here." The crunching sounds closer, Louis sure Malik will round the corner any minute. He shuts his eyes in an attempt to calm down, but his heart is beating a mile a minute, hands clinging to Harry for support.

"Louis, you have to get my men out here." Harry whispers into his ear, breath tickling because he's so close. "I'll distract him while you run over there. The second they're all out; you go to the cellar, hide away for me. Capiche?" Louis shakes his head, hysterical as tears well up in his eyes.

"Don't leave me alone, please. I can't- you can't- I'll get your men, but I'm not leaving you." Harry sighs, connecting their foreheads as he wills himself to stay strong.

"I can't have anything happen to you, Louis. Please hide. I promise I'll come get you when it's safe, but for now stay hidden." He brings the boy into an embrace, their uneven heartbeats felt between them. "I wouldn't be able to live with myself if anything happened to you." He mumbles, pressing his lips against anything his mouth can reach. Louis whimpers quietly as Harry puts him at arm's length, nodding once to make sure the plan was as stated. Louis nods back. "Count to ten after I leave and then run." Harry stares at Louis for a moment longer, bending down to kiss Louis like it's the last. Louis doesn't want to think of it as his last, gripping onto Harry to keep him there, to will away Malik. Harry parts with a heavy breath, lips still as close to Louis' as possible. "I-" He doesn't get to finish, footsteps fast approaching.

Harry pushes past Louis, mouthing ten and coming in view for Malik. "Well if isn't the man of the hour." Louis counts to ten, slower than he should because he thinks something might change, Malik might have a change of heart. Fat chance. It's silent as he takes off, keeping out of view as he makes it the barn. The men are asleep; they usually wake up at half past noon. It's only ten in the morning. He shakes the first man's bed, the man sitting straight up.

"What's the hullabaloo?" He shouts, Louis shushing him just as quickly.

"Harry needs you, all of you. Malik's here." The man bounds out of the cot, hurrying over to the next person. He shakes and hushes, telling the men of the plan. Everyone is in agreement, lining up and peeking out of the barn. Nothing can be seen from this angle, but voices carry in the wind.

"Not so sharp now, are you? No army behind you, no Louis. Did he leave the second he realized you were a murder? I would have never admitted it, would have fucked him real good and dumped him before he even asked." Malice laughter echoes and he knows Harry took a swing, Malik's next sentence confirmation. "Don't go packing a punch when you're alone." He can imagine Malik's entourage at his aid, holding Harry back.

"Go!" He yells, not loud enough for Malik to hear but enough to get the message across. The men clamber out, hiding behind hedges as they cross over to where Harry presumably is held hostage. The men give hand signals, everyone acknowledging the plan once more before they're charging.

Louis makes a run for it, dodging behind the bushes to be as discreet as possible. He claws his way through the bush Harry showed him last time, hand fumbling for the cellar door handle. He tugs until it's open, dashing in on his hands and knees. He struggles his way down the stairs, resituating himself so he's going feet first. He finds his balance with his hands behind his back, edging his way down until he's finally on his feet again. His hands become his guide, tentatively reaching out to find a source of light. One latches onto something rectangular. The box of matches. He lights one, glad the lantern was sitting next to the box.

Crackling fire flickers across his face as he surveys the room again, trying to find something to distract himself with. Nothing can settle is nerves, so instead he goes with sitting on the floor of the cellar, hands on his head in an attempt to steady his breathing. He hopes Harry's okay. He hopes everyone comes back unscathed. He strains his hearing to see what's going on outside, but the walls are too thick to hear properly. He can make out gurgles above him, almost like he's underwater. He can distinguish two different voices speaking, but none of the words are clear. He hears shouts, movement, the bang of a gun.

Louis' heart stops, body frozen in place. Nothing seems to follow, leaving Louis to believe the worst. He wants to cry, wants to smash his head against the wall. He covers his ears and shuts his eyes, mumbling nonsense because he can't formulate anything else. His mind seems to have shut off, unaware of everything around him. He doesn't hear when the door opens, doesn't hear the bustling of footsteps. It isn't until hands are nabbing at him that he yells, body collapsing against his will.

When he wakes, he's somewhere else, somewhere completely foreign. He's not tied to the bed post. His arms aren't bound together and neither are his legs. He glances at his clothing. He's still wearing the same clothing as the day before... Is it the next day? He doesn't know how long it's been since he passed out.

He jumps out of his skin when a door's open, hiding behind the cover as his eyes meet the one holding him captive. He practically bursts into tears when he sees who it is, leaping out of the bed and into the arms of the man he so desperately loves.

"Harry!" He cries. Placing his hands wherever he can reach, Louis inspects Harry, assuring he's real, assuring this isn't a dream. When he feels solid muscle under his hands, he breaks out into even more uncontrollable sobs, climbing the man until Harry is holding him tightly in his arms. "You're okay." Louis hiccups, nuzzling into the man's shoulder and breathing him in. He's alive and well in Louis' grasp. For that, Louis is incredibly grateful.

"What happened?"