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Louis tunes into the conversations around him as he sits patiently waiting on the park bench for Harry to return from the bathroom. The aroma of freshly cut grass and the flowers makes the wait bearable.
Without seeing their faces he tries to picture what the people around him look like from their voices. A little stereotypical of Louis, but what else is he going to do. He’d ask Harry when he gets back what they really look like. He’s usually way off mark. Of course, he would never tell Harry that.
He imagines the lady sitting on the grass behind him to be petite, blonde and...maybe the type to wear knitted cardigans. She's on the phone talking about her new job as a receptionist at some library in town, so he pictures her as the typical movie librarian: mid 30's, timid, with those pointy cat glasses perched on her nose. Maybe a mole or two.
Just then a man walks by Louis, his cologne hits him and he can't help but turn his nose up at the strong, foul stench. He visualises a small, white, bald business man. Kinda like Matilda's dad. Louis loves that movie. From the dragging of his feet and the cruel mumblings of "stupid fucking kids" under his breath, he conclude that he's a walking, talking ball of stress...probably looks it too.
He continues this game on two more passerbyers but quickly grows tired of it. Louis heaves in a deep sigh and starts when his senses are overwhelmed by the glorious scent of meat being barbequed. He wonders if there's a family around here somewhere enjoying a lovely outing.
He cocks his head to the side as he thinks of the last time he had a barbeque with his family, or any type of meal with them. He thinks maybe when mum had brought her boyfriend over for dinner that time.
For years Louis held onto the hope that if that douchebag wasn't there, his mother wouldn't have reacted so badly. He remembers that that good for nothing loser had cooked that night, which also makes him remember feeling queasy for days after it. Or maybe that wasn't from the food. Louis guesses getting such a harsh reaction from your mum after coming out to her would leave a sick feeling in your stomach.
Louis wonders if they're still together. He thinks that he doesn't want to know.
His thoughts are cut short when a hand clamps down heavily on his shoulder, pushing him up to a standing position. He stumbles forward on his feet, hands out in front of him in case he falls. His chest constricts painfully as his mind goes through all the horrible outcomes in a split second.
"Hi." A familiar voice calms Louis' beating heart, but not before he lets out a totally masculine scream. It was very manly. He hears a man off to their left say "what the fuck". Harry and Louis giggle as they walk off.
"Oops." Louis says while he grins at nothing, after they calm down.
"C'mon, it's just gone past half 8, we better get back." Harry tugs his hand forward.
He then proceeds to babble in Louis ear about the disgusting conditions of the toilets. It was a public facility; what was he expecting? He closes his eyes against the sharp wind in his face. He forgot to bring his glasses with him today. Harry leads them out of the park and guides Louis through walking down the steps.
The therapeutic scent of freshly cut grass and barbeque slowly fade away until it's completely replaced with car fumes and the tantalizing scent of cheap coffee.
Louis is too busy drooling over the thought of caffeine to notice the raised voice behind them until Harry turns around and scowls.
"...should be ashamed! You've made God hate you. You deserve to go to Hell!"
Louis winces as the words reach his ears. Voics murmur around them. It doesn't take a genius to figure out who this guy's yelling at. He not-so-gently squeezes the boyish fingers interlocked through his and clenches his jaw.
Louis keeps his head forward, determined to refute the man. Harry should be proud he didn't go back and rip him a new one. Said boyfriend just sighs and turns back around. Louis imagines a cute, troubled frown on Harry's face. Louis hates knowing he's so affected by these things. The previous moment of them content in our own private bubble is lost. He bumps shoulders with Harry as they resume walking and thinks of something comforting to say. However, before he even opens his mouth, Harry has already started fulminating.
"Does he not have anything better to do with his life? It's ridiculous. How are people still like this? I'm all for people having their own opinions, but to spit hate at someone to their face in the middle of the street is just. I can't believe-" Louis stops his rant by placing his free hand over his mouth. A shiver goes up his arm when he feels his boyfriend's soft lips against the skin of his hand.
"Leave him off. You've got work in the morning, so we need to keep moving."
Louis' heart warms when he feels a small smile ghost over the lips under his palm.
"Shouldn't get away with that kind of thing, though." He mumbles behind Louis' hand who smiles sadly in response, knowing he can see. Knowing his green eyes are on his face.
After placing a quick peck on Harry's cheek (not his original target, but he'll take what he can get) they push the earlier fiasco to the back of their minds and continue on their journey home.
Home being the apartment they've been living in for about two years now. It’s small and smelly, but it’s easy to keep clean and enough for the both of them. They're happy with it. They're happy together. They're happy.
_________
Few words are exchanged after as they remain in their own heads. They're just around the corner from their apartment.
Louis would give anything to read his boyfriend's mind right now. See how he's feeling. He could take a wild guess and assume his mind is in overdrive. Harry had grown up in a place where everyone was close-minded and vocal. Having venomous words hissed in his face would be an everlasting memory for him from his childhood. It fucking sickens Louis to think of how grown ass people could treat a teenager so badly. Treat anyone so badly.
Louis tugs on their hands slightly, telling Harry he wants to stop walking. Green questioning eyes on his face, Louis opens his mouth, praying Harry can't see his heart in there somewhere. He knows Harry won't listen to what he's about to say.
"Haz," he begin softly, "We knew what we were getting into when we started this. You can't let shit like that get to you, babe."
Harry sighs again and ignores the shorter man. "You said already we should get a move on- it's getting dark and we're standing in front of that seriously creepy alleyway you hate."
Which, no. Rude. Louis hates being ignored like some irrelevant fool.
"No. I want to talk this out, Harry." He says with force.
"We haven't got time! Fuck, why do you always make a big deal out of things?" Harry drops his hand and Louis can feel him throw his hands up in the air from exasperation from the gust of wind that hits his face. Louis expected this reaction, though he feels maybe he should have left it until they got back to their apartment. But he also didn't want to give Harry the chance to lock himself in the bathroom, a habit he picked up whenever he doesn't want to talk about something. "You're too sensitive and I hate you when you do this. And don't you dare try to pull the sympathy card. Just because you're fucking-."
Air is trapped in Louis windpipe, neither traveling up nor down. Just sitting there, causing a lump, making it hard to form words. Does Harry really think he could just...? How dare he.
"Fuck you, Harry. I can't believe. No, seriously- fuck y-"
The last of his sentence never leaves his lips as the sound of heavy footsteps comes from behind Louis reaches both their ears. Who would be out around these parts at this time of the night? Didn't Harry say it was like 9 o'clock or something?
It could be their neighbour Niall, Louis thinks. Isn't he gone home to Mullingar for the weekend, though? From the stiffness in Harry's body all of a sudden, he doubts its Niall.
Whoever it is hocks a loogie and spits it out. Disgusting. Louis hates it when people do that. The smell of sweat and alcohol wafts over Louis and he fights the urge to visibly gag. Harry swears quietly under his breath and panic wells up in the smaller man's chest. Oh god, who is it?
"You think you kind of people can get away with this type of thing?" Louis recognises the voice from the man earlier. Echoes of metal slapping against skin lightly makes chills run up his spine. Does this psycho have a bat? A bat?! In front of him, Louis feels Harry take a step closer and slip a sweaty, protective hand around his arm. Louis fights the urge to slap it off, still angry at him. But there's a bigger problem right now.
"You make me sick," the man sneers, "Your blatant disrespect for the Lord should not be something my children should have to see. You're unnatural."
There's a pause in which Louis can only heard the sounds of his heart beating in his ears. Harry is breathing slow, steady, deep breaths above him. He doesn't speak, he doesn't try to sooth Louis or reassure him that everything is fine and that's what scares him the most right now.
"You deserve to be punished."
The gravel under his feet crunches with every fast paced step he takes towards the two men. Louis breathing starts matching his erratic, panicked pulse as he fights to get it under control. He reaches out and fumbles at Harry's shirt, freaked the fuck out of his mind. What is happening? At the same time Harry roughly pushes Louis behind his tall figure, cautious as to not make Louis stumble and fall. He takes a few steps away from the man.
"Listen, please, we don't mean any harm. W-we just want-"
Suddenly Harry’s need to keep Louis standing on two feet disappears. He shoves him back and Louis stumbles around a few steps before falling over a curb and landing sharply on the side of his knee. Pain burns through his leg and he lets out a pathetic, strangled cry.
The swift slap of shoes against loose concrete is the only thing Louis can hear over his loud breathing. Louis clenches and unclenches his fists in dread and anticipation. The heart that has been trying to force its way out of his chest all but stops when the distinct sound of metal hitting skin echoes and bounces off the walls around them.
Oh god, did he-? He hit Harry. He hit him! Harry doesn’t have a chance. He's not a fighter. Louis prays he at least tries to put his years in the boxing ring to good use. But the world seems to have gone into slow motion for Louis, and the only thing he can hear is the slap of the metal weapon again and again and again...
With a feeling of total uselessness and nausea from the incessant throbbing in his knee, Louis feels around the ground blindly, for something, anything, to help. He needs to help. His heart gives a sharp pain every time Harry cries out and another part of his body goes numb in fear with every groan emanating out of his poor baby. Harry is one of the kindest souls anyone could ever meet, he doesn't deserve this.
"Man shall not lie with man!" He enunciates every word by pounding the bat against some part of Harry's body. He pauses to take a breath before landing one final blow.
A sickening crack rings through Louis ears. 'It is an abomination!' The man roars.
Louis sits, jaw slack and frozen, on the cold, hard curb and mind blank except for the constant flow of panicked questions. Is Harry okay? Is he hurt badly? Who is this guy? Is he going to leave us alone now? Dear God let Harry be okay. Too stunned to make any sort of noise for help, Louis stays silently shaking and hopes that the psycho will leave him alone.
He jumps violently when he hears the quiet sound of him spitting again, a few feet away from him. His hands are shaking and his skin is on fire. His heart hurts the most.
"Have fun in Hell, faggot." A surge of fear and anger shoots through Louis' veins, turning his blood cold. Thinking of a possibly bloodied Harry- Louis' soft, kind, gentle hearted Harry, who didn't do anything wrong, lying in pain on the ground, Louis refuses to bite his tongue.
Louis musters up all his hate and anger and glares in the man's direction. Or at least he hopes it's in his direction. Louis' ears are ringing too loud to pinpoint where the guy is.
He blurts out the first thing that comes to his head when he hears his retreating footsteps.
"I'll tell the Devil to expect you then, shall I? Get him to throw you a special welcoming party? Put up banners that say 'Welcome home, Asshole'?"
Louis screams at himself internally to shut up. Louis want this to be a dream. He wants to wake up to Harry covering his face with feather soft kisses. The Harry that wouldnt want Louis to stick his neck out for him if it meant he would get hurt. Harry who wouldn't want Louis to act like a hero for his sake. Louis' chest feels hollow.
Silence follows and the only thing Louis can hear is his breath coming out in short, uneven gasps. The once fading footsteps stop momentarily before breaking out into a run.
This time footsteps growing louder. Louis' unseeing eyes frantically dart around and he shuffles on his arse backwards, ignoring the pain rippling through his knee. Louis thinks he's going to be sick.
"How dare you! I am a good Christian man." Louis jumps again with how close the voice is.
His lungs feel like they’re dying and his head is starting to feel light. He is made by his body, rather than chooses, to give up trying to get away. He can’t hear Harry groaning anymore. He’s not moving, Louis can't hear him moving anymore. The thought causes Louis to curl in on himself and let tears drip down his temple and splash on the concrete.
"Harry, I love you. I love you. I'm sorry. I love you."
He has never actually said it out loud to him before. He doesn't know if he can hear him. But he hopes Harry knows. That last fleeting thought flashes through Louis mind, breaking his heart before the first hit of the bat connects with the side of his head.