The Pack and Sidemen Oneshots

Wooflan- Home Safe

Rob's P.O.V.

It was only one day he was missing, but in that short space of time I knew his- and my- life had been changed forever. No one knew what had really happened, he refused to speak about it as he lay in hospital, arms still trembling, but after a little more than 24 hours they determined he was physically healthy, despite the possible pneumonia scare, and released him home, into my care.

He didn't speak. He clung to me with his hands gripping tight onto my shirt but he never uttered a world, his eyes staring blankly off into the distance. My heart was sitting permanently in my stomach from a day of panic with his disappearance and now his silence, which almost scared me even more. His hands didn't let go of me even as I drove us home, so I held him close. His head lay tucked in my shoulder.

At home, or what we called home for now as it was actually the Sidemen house, everyone gave us space for the young boy to recover. Even Vikk's presence scared him, having a panic attack a few minutes after returning because everything was just too overwhelming. I helped him up the stairs and into our shared room, but it didn't help.

That night he didn't sleep at all, lying awake staring at the ceiling, shifting on occasion. He just couldn't settle down and sometime after midnight he just broke down and started bawling, unable to be comforted with any methods I could think of.

I thought that night was going to be the worst of it, comforting the crying boy for hours because he couldn't calm down, but the next day was even worse.

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I was flat out exhausted the next morning and Lachlan, tears still staining his face, had cried himself to the point of passing out and was sleeping- not peacefully by any means, but he was asleep. I had to get Vikk to sit with him for a couple of hours so I could catch a break and get some sleep. The two hours of rest I did manage to get wasn't enough, but I was glad to get any at all when Simon woke me, saying Lachlan was awake.

The poor boy was crying again, lying curled up on the bed with his legs tucked up. The cries were silent and it was just tears dripping down his cheeks. He didn't look up when I came in and also didn't respond to my touch, a gentle hand running through his hair. His jaw trembled.

"Oh Lachy..." I whispered, taking in my terrified friend. "God... what do I do..."

The last part was whispered to myself because I really had no idea what I should do, how could I comfort him? He was traumatised, unable to speak and no comfort I could provide seemed to work.

One idea I had was to run a bath with some nice smelling soapy stuff, just to give him a little while to relax, and I even got up to do it- but the second Lachlan heard the water running he started to panic, more than he ever had before. He didn't panic that much in the hospital, nor when he got home, but I didn't get a word from him.

After shutting off the water all I could do was hold him while he sobbed and cried, clearly off somewhere else. His eyes were unfocused and he didn't even seem to realise I was there, my touches and gentle words getting no response.

It was even worse than the night before, the sobbing was loud and painful and there was nothing I could do. I couldn't comfort him and I had to watch, pained and scared as the friend I knew cried himself to the point where he almost couldn't breathe. He cried until he couldn't cry anymore and as he finally went limp, I breathed a sigh of relief.

Whatever had happened to him, it had clearly been torture.

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I wasn't actually that far off the truth. As the police investigation into what had happened to Lachlan progressed the details got more and more disturbing until they finally got a confession from the man who did it- it explained absolutely everything.

Apparently it was torture. The man had gleefully described how he had forced Lachlan to sit in a bath of ice cold water for almost 12 hours, repeatedly holding him under to the point he had passed out, only to do the same thing again when he came around. I shuddered thinking about it, holding the boy who had suffered through it all close.

It explained why he had panicked when he heard the bath running, why he didn't speak. It fact, he didn't speak a word to anyone until almost a month after he was rescued and when he did speak it was only to me, soft mumbles, often with no real meaning.

We stayed at the Sidemen house, in no position to leave the country, even though it wasn't like a home for either of us. The boys got used to see me around, less so Lachlan because he barely left his room, and they helped me out when I needed it. It was mostly when Lachlan was asleep because he didn't like being around the others anymore which allowed me some extra sleep.

Weeks dragged on which turned into months and finally, a year. It had been a year since he had gone missing, a year since he had been tortured to the point of extreme phobias and mutism. Finally, god, finally, we were able to take a flight to Canada and go back to my place, and the change was almost immediate.

It was a familiar environment, far away from the country he had been tortured in, with people who were always sensitive to his fears and a dog who was always willing to sit on his lap or lie next to him if he didn't want to be touched. He started to open up more about what had happened and, most excitedly, he began to talk.

Recovery was slow and painful with all the ups and downs that came along with it. There were good days and bad days, and there were days I just felt like screaming because it was so frustrating- but I stayed calm for his sake. I couldn't break down when he was already so close to the edge.

"Hey lil' Lachy." I whispered as he pattered into the room, a blanket pulled tight around his shoulders. He gave me a small smile and flopped down beside me, not speaking. That was okay though, he didn't have to. "How you feeling?"

He mumbled someone wordless response and rested his head in the crook of my shoulder, curling his legs up on the couch behind him. He looked tired, he probably hadn't slept much the night before. With one hand still on my phone I used the other to run gently through his hair, earning a low sigh of content.

"Comfy?" A nod. "Good."

Leaning over I pressed a light kiss to the side of his head, a blush dusting his cheeks. Over the year since the life changing incident we had grown closer to the point where we could both say we were official, even though we had never really confirmed it between us. We both agreed anyhow, sharing kisses.

"Love you Lachy." He smiled, giggling.

"Love you too." He whispered, his voice hoarse. "Rob. I'm glad we're home safe."