FRAGRANCE | Larry Stylinson

|Chapter Three|

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It's dark. He sees himself in the middle of the ocean, his body soaked. He strives to see something, anything, where he can hold on, but the darkness adds to the struggle to stay alive. A tired scream escapes his lungs, but the echo of his voice is the only response he gets.

Louis looks up at the sky, no stars and no moon to guide and shed a bit of light, to give a string of hope for him to hold on. His lungs fight for air, but he feels himself drowning deeper and deeper. Dark blue water covers his whole body, and from time to time the only thing he can make out is his cold breath coming out of his mouth. Darkness has been his enemy since he was a child, and now he feels surrounded, attacked from it.

He feels as a strong paw covers his ankle and tugs him deeper, and he screams again but no one is there to help him. Louis' body tries to fight the cold that has engulfed him, but his limbs are tired, already numb from the ice cold water that has permeated his skin like sharp daggers. His eyelids get heavy, his lips trembling and his hair covered in ice flakes. The omega tries to move his hands so he can swim to where his safety awaits for him, swim where the sun shines brightly and will warm his insides like hot cocoa does in winter.

The tugging sensation starts again, and a painful sharp pain begins in the side of his neck, an excruciating shout escaping his lips. He is underwater now, blobs of air coming out of his mouth and he swims up flailing his hands but he can't stay above water for long, breathing in big chunks of air at a time. He feels his tears mixing with the salty water of the ocean, an agonizing silence surrounding him.

As he feels himself falling deeper and deeper, this time from far away he can make out two piercing green eyes watching him. He blinks fastly, hoping that they're no part of his imagination, created by his mind in the last bits of madness. The green vibrant eyes are still there, looking capable of stripping him naked from far away just by looking. They make him feel hot and cold; relaxed and anxious at the same time. The eyes frustrate him, but the safety feeling they perceive as if assuring he is not alone in all of this mayhem that surrounds him calms him down.

He watches as they get nearer, but the fatigue from screaming, swimming and trying to breathe makes it impossible for him to keep his eyes open. He lets himself go, numb body diving deeper and his eyes closed, falling asleep.

Louis wakes up with a startle, breathing in and out, a few groans of frustration echoing around the room. He grabs the glass of water he always keeps on his nightstand; his mouth has gone dry from the crying he must have done in his sleep.

He grabs his blanket and wipes his forehead, cold sweat layered on it. For the past three days, he has been having the same dream every single night. The first night he had woken up with a cry, but now he's getting frustrated and annoyed not knowing what triggered his subconscious to have these dark dreams.

He is awake, but the side of his neck still hurts, as if he has been burned with a branding iron. He has been scratching it for the past days, at times unconsciously, and his mother and Noe have called him out on it. It's the same spot where that big dump alpha sank his fingers, marring his scent with his.

Louis is scratching it even now, his face in a wince and he gets up from his bed abruptly pacing back and forth in his room, trying to be silent as much as he can. He looks at the time on the side of his bed, and it's late. He should be sleeping and keep himself energized so he can continue with his search for a job.

He looks in the mirror at the side of the window in his room, the moon shedding enough light for him to see himself in the mirror. He looks at the red area of his neck, where his scent gland is and has the urge to scrub it away but he knows he can't do that. He rubs the red mark with his pointer and middle finger, bringing them up to his nose then.