Delinquent - L.S.

Fifteen

Harry felt like his entire world came crashing down. Jett and Oliver knew what car he drove. They knew what he looked like. It was only a matter of time before they found out where he lived. Harry set Louis' phone back where it was before and headed for his own bedroom, closing the door behind him. He felt like he couldn't breathe. He found himself wishing that Louis had never moved in, that they'd never even met. Now Harry was in danger and his mum was in danger and everything was on the verge of falling apart.

He debated calling the police, but knowing Detective Cowell he felt like that would only make things worse. "What have I done?" he asked himself. He slumped onto his bed, his hands shaking as he rubbed at his face.

Harry found himself taking fast, shallow breaths. How had he ever believed a word that Louis said? He lied about Eleanor, he lied about his family, what else had he lied about? Was his fire story even true?

He was hyperventilating now, eyes watering even though he had long since squeezed them closed. Had Louis seen Zayn's texts? When was he going to warn Harry? He jumped to his feet. He was going to explode if he didn't talk to Louis. He needed answers and, frankly, he just needed company before he completely lost his mind.

Harry threw open his door and burst into Louis' room. "Listen, we need to talk," he called out with a shaky voice.

There was no answer. The room looked empty, at least until Harry took a closer look. A pair of shoes poked out from behind the bed. "Louis? This isn't funny," he croaked out, slowly stepping forward.

Peeking around the back of the bed, he saw Louis. The boy was laying on his back, eyes closed and mouth agape. His breathing was shallow and his face was ghostly pale. "Louis? Louis! Can you hear me? Wake up!" Harry cried out, shaking the boy's shoulders.

But Louis didn't wake up.

-

Harry and Anne stood in the waiting room of the closest hospital. He sobbed like a child, fat tears the entire way. By the time they made it to the emergency room, he was just numb. He didn't know what to feel or say or do anymore, especially since his last conversation with Louis was when the boy was so disappointed in him.

Anne, on the other hand, was furious. She practically blamed Harry for not watching out for the boy, which definitely didn't make the emotional teen feel any better. "When he got home looking like that you didn't even question it?" she had exclaimed, throwing her arms up in the air.

"He went straight up to the shower," Harry lied, swallowing his guilt.

"Where was he? Back in Lambeth?" she asked, unconvinced.

A doctor, a slender woman with long dark hair and tired eyes, walked towards them. Anne flagged the doctor down. "Excuse me! I'm Louis Tomlinson's legal guardian. His father hasn't been in to see him, has he?" she asked the woman.

"No, I'm afraid he hasn't," the doctor said softly, shaking her head.

Anne ran a hand through her hair. "What can you tell us about his condition?" she continued.

The doctor peered down at her silver clipboard, lifting up a page to read what they assumed to be as Louis' chart. "It appears Mr. Tomlinson has some minor liver and kidney damage. It seemed to be due to blunt abdominal trauma. He has a couple of broken ribs and a concussion. His knee was just a small amount of pressure away from popping out of the socket," she explained regretfully, a frown on her face.

"Oh my god," Anne gasped.

"Do you know what caused these injuries?" the doctor asked.