Requiem for the Dawn - ifiwasabluebird (2024)

Chapter 1: Isolation

Chapter Text

"Mom, I know," Louis said with a hint of exasperation, attempting to keep the phone wedged between his ear and shoulder while simultaneously unloading the ration of food that had just been delivered to his doorstep. "Yes, I do still have masks. Of course, I'm washing my hands constantly, like a thousand times a day."

He let out a sigh mixed with both annoyance and amusement as he examined a box of frozen vegetables that bore little resemblance to actual greens. Relief washed over him, however, as his eyes landed on a package of coffee pods, which he clutched to his chest as if it were a precious treasure.

"Alright, Mom, I promise I'll call you back later." Louis waited until the barrage of advice and concerns ceased before continuing. "Yeah, tell the girls I love them too." He padded to his coffee machine, ripping the box of coffee pods open with his teeth while rolling his eyes once again at his mom's antics. ‘’Yeah, yeah, I know, love you, bye.’’ With that, he placed his phone on the kitchen counter, the call ending with a soft beep.

Louis' life was hardly the glamorous adventure he'd envisioned when he made the move to London five years ago. At twenty-one, bursting with youthful optimism and a thirst for life's pleasures, he had quickly discovered that reality was far less forgiving. The contrast between his hometown of Doncaster and the bustling, expensive metropolis of London was stark. The city's sky-high cost of living and his own aversion to authority made finding a steady job an uphill battle. But he had soldiered on, first at Starbucks, then at Nike, and eventually as a tattoo artist – a role that resonated with his free-spirited nature. Through sheer determination, he had pieced together a life.

Now, at twenty-six, that hard-fought stability was crumbling yet again, slipping through his fingers like sand.

The descent into chaos had begun shortly after his birthday. News of an emerging virus from the Middle East had initially sparked unease, but it was quickly dismissed as a relatively harmless flu that primarily affected the elderly and the young. Life had carried on with a semblance of normalcy. But gradually, the narrative shifted, and each passing week brought more unsettling revelations.

The mandatory mask mandate had been the first sign of the changing times. People ventured outside shrouded in fabric, their eyes the only window to their emotions. Then came the closures – restaurants shutting their doors, relegated to takeout and delivery, followed by the grim announcement that non-essential businesses were to cease operations. Louis felt the sting of this decree acutely. His tattoo shop, his pride and joy, was forced to shutter its doors. He remembered vividly the call he'd made to his mother, his frustration and sorrow spilling out in a torrent of tears.

But the worst was yet to come.

Now, the entire city, the entire world, lay cloaked in a shroud of lockdown. Streets devoid of life, silence where once there was the hum of activity. Louis hadn't even managed to secure a train ticket back home, the digital frenzy of people clamouring to be with their families snatching away his opportunity. Stranded in London, he grappled with isolation. The government's response had been slow but methodical. Each week, essential goods were delivered to residents' doorsteps, a stark reminder of their new reality.

Louis stood now in his dimly lit apartment, his thoughts drifting back to those days when the world was vibrant, filled with laughter and friendships. He ran a hand through his dishevelled hair and sighed, longing for the days when his friends would crash on his couch after a wild night out, when the streets of London echoed with the sounds of life, not silence. The Nexovirus had not only taken lives but had also stolen the very essence of what it meant to be human. The virus was an invisible enemy that had locked down humanity in a way no one had ever imagined. It had stripped away freedom, spontaneity, and the simple joy of human connection.

He wandered over to his window and gazed out at the deserted street below. He watched as a solitary figure, bundled up in layers of clothing and a mask, shuffled along the sidewalk. It was a reminder of how the world had changed. The once-bustling city had become a ghost town, and the people who now ventured outside did so with a sense of trepidation.

He couldn't help but wonder what the future held. Would life ever return to normal? Would he ever get to reopen his tattoo shop and once again fill it with the buzzing of tattoo machines and the laughter of his clients? Would he ever dance in a crowded club, losing himself in the music and the sea of bodies?

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, Louis found solace in small rituals. The daily grind of washing his hands, donning a mask, and practising social distancing became a part of his routine. He took comfort in the familiar hum of his coffee machine, brewing cup after cup of coffee to ward off the monotony of his existence. But even as he clung to these routines, a sense of unease gnawed at him. The conspiracy theories circulating on social media had started to infiltrate his thoughts, despite his best efforts to dismiss them. The isolation was playing tricks on his mind, and he couldn't help but wonder if there was more to the Nexovirus than met the eye.

Shaking his head, Louis tried to push those thoughts aside. He couldn't afford to get lost in conspiracy theories or dwell on the uncertainty of the times. He had to stay focused on what mattered most – the safety of his family, the hope of reopening his tattoo shop, and finding a way to cope with the crushing loneliness that threatened to consume him. As he turned away from the window, Louis made a silent promise to himself. He would survive this, just as he had survived every other challenge life had thrown his way. The Nexovirus might have changed the world, but it wouldn't change who he was at his core – a fighter, a survivor, and someone who refused to let circumstances define him.

Louis sighed as he surveyed his surroundings, the familiarity of his apartment now tinged with a sense of confinement. His life had transformed into a monotonous routine, a stark contrast to the vibrant aspirations he'd once held. And as he stared out at the desolate streets beyond, he couldn't help but wonder how long this new reality would endure.

"If you truly believe that it's real mate, I swear to you I'm blocking your number." Louis said from his balcony, his voice muffled by the cigarette he was holding between his lips, searching his pocket for a lighter.

"No but think about it," Oli said at the other end of the phone, "If it's truly a virus that turns people into Zombies, we should be like the States. We should all have guns and stuff to defend ourselves."

"Aw, don't worry lad. You're so skinny the zombies would not even stop for you," Luke's voice added into the conversation, forcing a loud laugh out of Louis.

Luke and Oli were his best friends since childhood, and they both followed Louis when he woke up with the sudden and very pressing need to move to London, out of nowhere. But, the two boys had and would probably always follow Louis, even since they barely knew how to speak.

"Lads, I'm dead serious right now," Oli said, his voice tinged with worry and anxiety, making Louis frown and sit down on his small stool, exhaling the smoke out of his mouth. "There are tons of groups on Twitter and Facebook where people talk about survivor camps and like, what to take with you if it happens. It's serious, man."

"I don't believe in that shit," Luke said firmly.

"Yeah, it's only in movies, Oli," Louis added, trying to be reassuring and not belittling his friend's feelings.

Usually, Louis was the dramatic one. Always the one to turn a simple situation into something bigger than it was, creating even more of a mess than necessary. But his friends' antics made him slightly worry about the "what ifs." Because now, he was alone and isolated, far away from his family. And he couldn't help but think about his mom and sisters and about what would happen if something like that, or worse, would happen.

"I'm going to call Lottie, I'll talk to you guys later," Louis said, ending the call without waiting for his friends' response.

Being the firstborn of a fraternity of six siblings had not always been easy for him. He remembered feeling left out and unloved when his mom kept having baby after baby when he was barely ten. He remembered feeling pressured and stressed, having to help his mom out with diapers and groceries and breakfast, struggling to maintain his own schooling. But growing up, being an older brother was probably the only thing he was proud of. That and the fact that he had been captain of his football team back in Uni.

The lockdown had taken a toll on everyone's mental health, being isolated and unsure of the future regarding work, money, holidays, or just simple basic life. And it was hard, really. Louis had always been an extrovert, always out and about with tons of friends, always going back and forth to Doncaster to see his family. So being forced to stay home every day, without anything to do or say to anyone... It was hard.

"Hi babes," Lottie's voice resonated on the phone, forcing a smile out of Louis as he leaned back against his chair, lighting another cigarette.

"Hello love, how are you?"

Charlotte had taken on his role since he had left Doncaster. Being the second child after him, it was all natural that she stayed close to her family, even as she was building her own life with her fiancé. Their wedding had to be rescheduled due to the pandemic, but still, Lottie was always the positive one. So she started to talk about their family, telling Louis how the twins, Phoebe and Daisy, were still keeping up with homework as she did her best to help them. She told him how it was hardest for their mom. Louis and his mom had always been close and never ever felt ashamed of being a mama’s boy. Since he was the first born of their family, he had naturally taken on himself to help his mom around when he was old enough to do so. And when he decided to leave Doncaster for London, his mom had pretended she was okay, she was happy, but he knew that she missed him. And he did too. He bit his lip when Lottie told him again how his mom was continually talking about him, feeling the same pang of guilt tugging at his chest for not being able to be there.

"Are you smoking again?" She asked with a reproaching tone.

"Well, there's not a lot to do, you know," he answered, looking guiltily at the ashtray full of smoked cigarettes. "But I exercise a lot. I've been doing this stupid workout stuff you sent me weeks ago."

She sighed, but he could hear a smile in her voice.

And that was true. He had started to exercise. Even if his body was not the kind to easily put on weight, always towards the slender, thinner side, he always lacked muscles. But since he had nothing to do and nowhere to go, exercising at home was an option. He went a bit overboard with a full set of sports equipment, settling on lifting weights and working on his abs. And he was satisfied with his new body, firmer and more sculpted.

"Tell mom to call me, she's not really answering my texts," he added before hanging up.

Then, as happened every day, he went to the fridge, took out a beer, and slouched down on his sofa, launching a game on his TV, controller in hand.

Chapter 2: Silver Street

Chapter Text

A loud, blood-freezing scream is what made him wake up with a start.

Jumping into a sitting position, blinking away the sleep from his eyes, Louis patted blindly at his mattress for his phone, not finding it anywhere. He stopped moving, trying to focus his hearing to determine if he had dreamed the sound. After two seconds of silence, a loud screeching sound followed by a crash and more screaming made him turn his head quickly toward the window.

His heart pounded, and he got up slowly, making his way toward the window, his body tensing each time a new noise emerged from the outside of his flat. With a deep breath, he took the curtain between two fingers and pulled it away from the window. When he looked down from his building, chaos unfolded before him. Cars were engulfed in flames, frantic people stampeded through the streets, their cries of panic blending into an agonising symphony of chaos. In the distance, ominous fires blazed, and erratic planes danced erratically across the darkened sky.

"What the hell..." Louis muttered to himself, his gaze darting from one grim scene to another on the street below. Firefighters and police cars arrived, sirens blaring, but the pandemonium only escalated.

With a delayed reaction, he bolted for his bed, snatching up his phone and yanking it from its charger, desperate to call his family. However, the calls never connected, leaving him cursing vehemently. He raced to the living room, fumbling to turn on the TV.

“With the Nexovirus continuing its relentless spread across the globe, authorities are grappling with a new and alarming development. Infected individuals are now exhibiting violent and unpredictable behaviours, creating a heightened level of danger for both themselves and others.”

He stood in front of the screen, it’s light the only source of light in his flat, his fingers slowly letting go of his phone, the sound of it touching the ground not even coming to his ears. In front of him, images of violent confrontations, aggressive individuals and riots from all over the world were played on repeat. He watched, as they showed images of the Eiffel Tower, of the streets of New York city, where citizens, instead of staying safely home, had come down the streets to ravage shops and restaurants.

“The origins of this new symptom remain unclear, but medical professionals are working around the clock to understand the nature of this disturbing transformation. Those who were once mild-mannered have become a potential threat to public safety, raising concerns about the safety of communities everywhere.”


The images displayed on the screen were now showing videos recorded in hospitals, where the people were uncontrollable, violent, and incredibly strong. Fear gripped him, sweat dripping down his neck and his heart hammering in his chest.

“Governments worldwide are implementing stringent measures to curb the spread of the Nexovirus. Some regions have declared states of emergency, implementing curfews and lockdowns to ensure the safety of their populations.

Then, the familiar face of the News Anchor lady came onto the screen as if looking straight into Louis’s eyes as she said.

“Stay home.

He stood immobilised, the weight of the situation bearing down on him. He scarcely registered his phone hitting the floor as he tried to break free from the haze, to make his body move. Another jarring sound from outside jolted him back to reality, and he scanned his apartment in frantic desperation. That's when the panic set in. Louis, standing in the middle of his apartment, began dialling every family member, sending text messages that sometimes went unsent or suffered agonising delays. He called and called, pacing around his couch, biting his nails to the quick.

"Come on, come on..." he pleaded, his voice trembling, trying to reach Luke, his long-time friend and confidant. He bit at the skin around his thumbnail, closed his eyes, and braced for the inevitable robotic voice denying the connection. But when the ringing started, his heart skipped a beat.

"Lou? Lou, where are you?" Luke's familiar voice flowed through the phone, flooding Louis with a wave of relief, and he exhaled the breath he'd been holding.

"I'm still at home, I don't..." Louis approached the window again, peering down at the chaos below, people frantically packing cars and others vandalising shops while clashes with the police raged on. "What's going on?"

"Lou, listen." There was rustling on the other end, Luke seemingly gathering supplies. "We need to find a way to meet up." Louis heard the sound of a zipper and a door closing. "Grab something for protection, a knife or anything."

"What?" Louis almost squeaked, turning toward his small kitchen. "What are you talking about?"

"People are losing their minds. Remember those videos we saw on social media? The ones calling for a riot? It's happening. They're out on the streets, and they're going after the military." Louis's heart threatened to burst from his chest, his hands trembling. "Stay safe, try to hide, and if you can, follow the army, okay?"

But Louis couldn't answer. His mind raced to his family—his mom and his youngest twin siblings, still learning to walk. Guilt for always being so far away from them consumed him.

"Lou? Babe, answer me. I'm heading to Watford to find Oli and Stan. I've got the car." Louis heard thudding and then the ignition turning. "Lou, if you can, just follow the army, all right?"

"I need to get to Doncaster..." His voice wavered, small and uncertain.

Luke sighed. "Lou, there's no way. Everyone's flooding the train stations, bridges, highways—the army's blocking everything."

His thoughts spiralled, a headache pounding at his temples. He tried to focus, his eyes landing on the backpack near his door. Blinking rapidly, he struggled to comprehend the gravity of his situation.

"We'll meet in Watford. Conserve your phone's battery, and I'll try to call you if I can. Please, be careful, Lou..."

"Yeah, yeah, okay."

"Lou, I..."

"Save it, Luke. We'll be fine."

It took a moment for the gravity of the situation to sink in, the reality of what was happening beginning to crystallise in his mind. He tried to call his mom again, then Lottie but the calls all went unanswered, the services being overwhelmed by the crisis.

After another resounding explosion-like sound, followed by rustling behind his flat's door, and that’s when he started to panic. He rushed to his bedroom and shed his pyjamas, quickly changing into black cargo pants, a tank top, and a large black hoody. He grabbed a hat, slipping it onto his head, and then secured a mask over his face. He turned around in a panicked frenzy, searching for a backpack to pack essentials. In a flurry of hurried movements, he began to mutter under his breath what he heard Oli saying in one of his stupid rants about the end of the world. So, as he put everything he needed in his backpack, he went through the list mentally.

Bottled Water. Hydration would be crucial, especially in chaotic situations.

Non-Perishable Food. Granola bars and protein snacks.

First Aid Kit. Bandages and painkillers.

Flashlight. In case of power outages.

Batteries. To power the flashlight and other devices.

Self-Defence Items. A Swiss knife, pepper spray and a jack-knife.

Extra Clothes. He folded a few boxers, socks and two t-shirts.

Cash. In case electronic transactions are unavailable.

Face Masks and Gloves. For protection against contagion.

Hygiene Items. Hand sanitizer, toothbrush, and toothpaste.

Duct Tape. Useful for various makeshift solutions.

He then stood there with shaky hands and blurry vision as he stared at his backpack. It felt surreal, to actually take a second to think about what he was doing and what was happening. And Louis was always someone who would react strongly to anything, always needing to have someone calmer next to him, to guide him and anchor him. But now, he was alone. He looked up at his bedside table and slowly went for the family photo frame he had there. It was just him, his mom and all his sisters. He thumbed at Fizzy’s face, his chin wobbling by the mere thought of losing another one of them again.

Whipping his face angrily with his sleeve, he turned the frame in his palm and managed to free the photo out, shoving it in the front pocket of the bag and securing it close. Once he was done, he turned around and tried to keep his thoughts steady again.

He threw the bag next to the front door, bringing his palms to his face and pressing them angrily on it, almost groaning in frustration. His mind and thoughts were spiralling, worry eating at his insides. He tried to think about what he would need, if this was the last time he would ever be in his flat. He turned around and went for his room, opening the drawers and taking all his cigarette packs at once, running back for his backpack and shoving them inside.

He went for the kitchen then, almost ripping the door of the fridge by opening it. He quickly bit into a sandwich and emptied a can of Coke. Outside, the sound of constant police cars, their blue and red lights flashing and lighting the flat through the windows every two seconds were all but pushing him to be quicker. He took his phone out again, tried to call his mom, his stepdad, then Lottie, and even Oli, but nothing went through.

With determination burning in his eyes, he headed for the door, pausing only to slip into his sneakers and lock the door behind him. In his head, he tried to memorise and picture the way to Camden, figuring that he would probably have to steal a bike or worse, a car. He had to find his friends. He had to survive.

As soon as he stepped outside of his building, the reality was worse than anything he could have imagined.

People were running everywhere, pushing and shoving in their panicked haste. He witnessed a family, his neighbours, desperately racing to their car, almost violently pulling their daughter along behind them. He took his phone out again, hoping that being outside would improve the signal. He dialled his mom's number, but the call failed. He tried Lottie next, only to experience another failure. With trembling hands and a sense of desperation, he dialled Fizzy’s number this time.

"Louis?! " Her voice was high-pitched and filled with fear. "Are you okay? Louis, don't go outside." She practically screamed through the phone.

"Babe? Hello? Fiz?" He pulled the phone away from his ear to look at it in confusion. "Fizzy, can you hear me?"

"Louis, don't go outside, stay home!" she shouted again. "We're safe, everyone's here at home, and we have food." The phone started emitting strange sounds, and someone bumped into him from behind, nearly knocking him to the ground. "Louis? Louis! I love you." The call abruptly cut off.

"FUCK!" He screamed in frustration, angrily typing text messages to his mom and then into the family group chat.

Suddenly, the shattering sound of glass from behind caught his attention. Turning around, he saw someone in a nearby building, waving and screaming for help. A few people stopped to look, and the young woman continued waving her arms desperately. As Louis was trying to think of a way to assist, something chilling happened. A figure approached her from behind, its face bloodied, skin pale, and without warning, the girl was pulled down with a heart-wrenching scream.

Without hesitation, he ran. He joined a group of people who, like him, didn't have access to a car. He navigated around debris and broken objects on the ground, running until his lungs burned and his legs ached. He was lucky to be a good runner, football having shaped his body. And as he ran, he silently thanked Lottie for forcing him to work out more.

But then, ahead of him, he saw it for the first time: an infected. And the sight made him stop right in his step.

Their appearance was a stark departure from the living, their bodies twisted by the merciless grip of the virus that had consumed them. Their skin was an eerie, sickly pale, drained of colour and vitality. It appeared almost translucent, revealing the veins coursing just beneath the surface. Their eyes were hollow and devoid of any recognizable emotion. A feverish glint of hunger gleamed within them, and the pupils were dilated, as if the darkness that had consumed their souls had expanded into their gaze. Their mouths were stretched into grotesque grins, revealing blood-stained teeth. Scratches and bruises scattered their faces, hinting at the violent frenzy that accompanied their transformation. Their clothing was tattered and stained, rips and tears exposed patches of pale, scarred skin, and dark blotches hinted at the bloodlust that drove them.

As they moved, it was clear that the virus had granted them unnatural strength and agility. Their limbs jerked and twitched with a jittery energy, lending them a disturbingly inhuman grace. They moved with a predatory fluidity, as if hunting was etched into their very being. They moved with a frenetic urgency, an insatiable craving for the living that pushed them forward.

That’s when he realised, when the people around him were still running and pushing past him, that they were chasing. They were running right toward him, toward them. And they were fast. He narrowed his eyes, trying to count them and to analyse his chances against them. But more were coming from both his left and right. Cursing, he tried to prevent the people from running forward, but the fear and the panic that had risen through the crowd was unstoppable.

Suddenly, one of the creatures managed to grab a man and tear into his throat, bringing his body down on the floor, more infected throwing themselves at his screaming body.

“Shit,’’ He whispered, the sight searing into his mind.

Instincts kicked in, and he sprinted back from where he was coming. He kept running, trying to stay on the big streets, skipping and avoiding people, throwing himself under a fallen lamp post. He ran and ran and ran until his mouth tasted like blood and he could feel his knees giving away under his body.Searching desperately for a place to hide, only for the time his body would take to recover, he crouched down when he thought he was alone. Closing his eyes, body shaking from exhaustion and fear, he took his phone out again and tried to focus his vision on the multitude of texts he had. Few from his family and five from Luke. He answered quickly before jumping when the sound of rustling was heard behind him.

Behind him, what remained of a man shuffled into view—an infected. Hunched over, its eyes hidden by tangled strands of hair, and a gaping wound on its side oozing blood, it limped forward with a slow, agonising gait. Louis's heart raced as he realised the danger approaching him.

His eyes darted around, seeking an escape route. A nearby building caught his attention. Taking two steps backward, he shoved his phone into his pocket and patted his back pocket, where his knife was tucked. His fingers closed around the hilt, but fear of hurting someone, even an infected, held him back. He gulped, grappling with his unease.

He began walking backward as quietly as possible, glancing down to ensure his footing, and then bumped into a forgotten glass bottle of beer. The sound of the rolling bottle on the pavement echoed loudly, immediately drawing the infected's attention.

"Of fucking course," he sighed, frustration evident in his voice, and then took off running once more.

His feet pounded the pavement, heartbeat loud in his ears as he darted through the streets. He swerved to avoid an oncoming car that didn't even slow down to let him pass. Looking back, he cursed as he saw that now five infected were pursuing him. Turning into smaller streets, he spotted a building and threw himself against its door, desperately trying to force it open. But the door remained stubbornly locked. His gaze searched frantically for an alternative entrance, and that's when he spotted a trash can propped against a wall.

"Fuck it." He sprinted towards the big green recycling bin, jumping onto it with determination.

He focused on the open window above, hesitating for a moment, his fear of falling overcoming him. The threat of the infected behind him, however, pushed him forward. He pushed himself off the trash can with all his strength, the adrenaline surging through him. His feet slipped slightly, but he managed to hoist himself up and into the open window.

He landed in the dark corridor of an apartment complex. A sense of triumph and relief washed over him, but it was short-lived. As he looked down at the window, he saw the infected clawing at the heavy main door, desperately trying to get in after him. So he ran again. Up two flights of stairs, he burst out into another corridor, trying every door he came across. The distorted groaning and wailing of the infected grew louder, indicating their successful entry.

As he kept running to the end of the corridor, a scream pierced the air, intensifying his desperation. He took another flight of stairs, his lungs burning, and charged into yet another long corridor. He continued to try each door, his fatigue and desperation mounting with every unsuccessful attempt. The relentless pursuit of the infected behind him pushed him to the edge, his breath ragged, and his chest heaving with effort. Each door that remained locked was a reminder that his time was running out, and the corridor seemed to stretch on endlessly as he fought to stay one step ahead of the horrors pursuing him. He tried forcing open another door, the last one, forcing the lock with his knife, but his trembling hands were ruining his efforts.

Out of nowhere, a vice-like grip seized Louis's biceps, yanking him backward with shocking force. His startled gasp was stifled as he was forcibly dragged into a room, the door slamming shut in front of him, plunging him into darkness. His heart raced as he felt the presence of someone behind him, their ragged breath brushing against his neck. Panic surged through him, and he instinctively tried to break free, fearing that this person might be a threat or worse, infected. But the grip was unrelenting, a strong arm around his waist, a hand against his mouth.

With a burst of adrenaline, Louis managed to wrest one arm free, reaching for the hand covering his mouth and pulling at it with all his might, just as a noise echoed down the corridor, freezing him in place.

"Shhh..." came a soft, almost teasing whisper from behind, right next to his ear.

The rhythmic rise and fall of the chest pressed against his back began to register, making Louis realise that perhaps this person was not his enemy. He reluctantly relaxed, acknowledging that they might be allies in this hellish world.

Beneath the door, a faint orange glow cast eerie shadows into the room, revealing the distorted figures of infected as they shuffled past in the corridor, their agonised cries slicing through the air. Louis watched in tense silence as they passed one by one, his heart hammering in his chest with each approaching threat. As one halted right outside the door, he pressed himself closer to the chest behind him, the grip on him tightening in response.

His eyes squeezed shut, fear coursing through his veins as he struggled to control his racing heartbeat. In the suffocating darkness, he could feel the stranger's heart pounding alongside his own, almost drowning out the sound of his breath.

The seconds stretched on like an eternity, and he silently prayed that the infected would lose interest and move along. The room was heavy with silence, disrupted only by the guttural sounds of the infected right outside the door. Louis's entire body remained tense, every nerve on edge as he waited, each heartbeat resonating in his ears like a harbinger of doom. The darkness seemed to close in, and his imagination conjured vivid images of the horrors lurking just beyond that door.

As the shuffling footsteps of the infected faded into the distance, the stranger's grip on Louis gradually loosened. First, the hand over his mouth, followed by the arm around his waist. Louis didn't move immediately, focusing on calming his racing heart and regaining sensation in his numb limbs. He rolled his shoulders to relieve the tension that had built up.

Yet, even as the echoes of the infected's movements faded away, Louis remained pressed against the stranger's chest, their connection a fragile tether to security. The room, paradoxically, felt both suffocating and comforting, a mix of emotions swirling within him. Slowly, as the tension ebbed, he regained control over his breathing, matching his rhythm with the stranger's.

Behind him, the stranger cleared his throat and gently pushed Louis away. Fear flared within Louis momentarily, tensing his body, but it subsided as he heard the rustling and shuffling accompanying the stranger's movements. A faint beam of light pierced the darkness as the stranger revealed a flashlight, illuminating their surroundings—an apparent supply closet. Louis fumbled for his own flashlight and turned it on, the sudden burst of light almost blinding him. He directed the beam toward where he knew the stranger was.

The person had his back to him and appeared significantly taller. Dressed in black like him, all that was visible was a dark bun atop his head and gloved hands. The man felt around the wall until he roughly tugged on a wooden plank, revealing a tiny window that he opened right away.

Alarmed, Louis rushed over and grabbed the stranger's elbow, his words a hushed exclamation, "What are you doing?"

The stranger, already halfway out the window, turned toward Louis. His face was mostly hidden by a tightly tied bandana, but his piercing green eyes were visible. His deep voice rumbled, "What does it look like I'm doing?"

Louis was taken aback by the stranger's response. He was bewildered by the situation, by the stranger's enigmatic presence, and by the escalating danger surrounding them. His nerves were frayed, and nothing seemed to make sense. "Are you planning to jump?"

The stranger rolled his eyes, re-entering the room and closing the window. He stood tall and imposing, causing Louis to instinctively straighten his posture. "In case you didn't realise, you brought at least five infected in here with you. So now, the only way out is through the fire escape."

"Eight," Louis corrected him.

"What?" The stranger looked incredulous.

"I brought eight of them inside," Louis clarified. “You said five.”

“Alright, fine.” The stranger sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He slung his backpack over his shoulders and approached the window once more. "Good luck then."

Louis's panic resurfaced, and he involuntarily raised his voice, "Wait." He quickly covered his mouth, realising the volume of his voice, and met the stranger's irritated glare. "You can't just leave me here."

The stranger's tone turned monotonous. "Why not?"

"Because it's... not decent."

The stranger raised an eyebrow. "Decent? In this world?"

Louis hesitated, his resolve wavering as he assessed the stranger. "You are the one who tugged me in there, you should at least help me out."

''I was trying to- Jesus, never mind.’’ He sighed and ran a gloved hand on his forehead, "Where are you headed then?"

Louis swallowed hard, his voice revealing his vulnerability as well. "Watford.."

The stranger snorted, rolling his eyes. "Yes well, good luck." And he turned for the window again. But Louis was quicker and slid his body right in between the window and him, effectively blocking his way.

"What are you doing?"

"You have to help me."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because," he almost exclaimed again before clearing his throat. "Because it's basic manners."

"There is no way you're going to reach there on foot. And alive," the stranger declared with a blend of weariness and urgency.

Louis's defiance wavered as the reality of the situation set in. He realised the stranger was right—his chances of surviving this chaos alone were slim. "Where are you going then?" Louis's voice held a mixture of curiosity and desperation as he confronted the stranger.

Another sigh escaped the man as he not so gently pushed Louis out of his way and reopened the window, his form slipping out of the small opening. "Stratford," he answered, his voice carrying a weary edge.

Louis's brow furrowed as he contemplated the implications. "How?" he questioned, his steps taking him closer to the window as he bit his lip nervously.

"I have a car," the man replied matter-of-factly.

Without further ado, the man jumped down from the window, his landing on the fire escape's metal stairs producing a sharp echo that reverberated in the small room. Louis startled at the sound, a jolt of fear shooting through him. Both of them froze, waiting with bated breath to see if any unwanted attention would be drawn to their location.

And soon enough, the sound of shuffling and wailing from the infected grew louder outside the closet door. Panic surged through him, and without hesitation, he made a decision. There was no other way out. He had to jump. With his heart racing, Louis launched himself from the window, his body following the stranger's path.

The descent was swift, and the sensation of his feet landing on the metal stairs sent a jarring shock through his limbs. He stumbled slightly, the impact jarring his senses, but he quickly steadied himself. Beside him, the stranger had already recovered from his own jump, his eyes locked on the window as they both listened to the cacophony of the infected drawing nearer. The urgency of their situation compelled them to move swiftly, to act before the infected could swarm them.

The man turned to Louis, his green eyes met Louis's blue, conveying a sense of determination that resonated with the gravity around them. He seemed to be analysing Louis, his eyes going from his head to his toe and up again before his shoulder slouched.

His voice was low and intense when he spoke, "Stay close and follow me."

Louis nodded, his own resolve firming.

As they climbed down the fire escape, the city around them was a chaotic symphony of destruction and fear. The wails of the infected seemed to be everywhere, punctuated by the occasional scream or distant crash. Each floor they descended felt like a small victory, a step closer to safety and escape. Louis's breath came in quick gasps, a mix of exertion and anxiety as he followed the stranger's lead.

‘’Where are we?’’ Louis murmured, his eyes always darting left and right.

The stranger moved with a calculated efficiency, his every movement purposeful and deliberate. Louis tried his best to emulate him, focusing on each step and the rhythm of his breath.

‘’Silver Street.’’

As they reached the end of the fire escape, they emerged onto a small alley, the cityscape stretched out before them in all its chaos and uncertainty.

The man turned to Louis, his eyes locking onto him with an intensity that conveyed the seriousness of their situation. "The car's parked a few blocks from here. Stay close and keep an eye out for any movement." And then, he pulled a small gun from the back of his trousers.

Louis struggled to maintain his composure. The man before him seemed like he had been preparing for this his entire life. He remained steady, his gaze unwavering, not a hint of stress or fear in his eyes, unlike Louis, who felt his heart race with every distant scream and noise. Questions gnawed at the tip of Louis's tongue, but he held them back for the time being.

A signal from the stranger indicated the presence of the car—a SUV—ideal for the circumstances they found themselves in. Amusement stirred within Louis, reminiscing about his friend Oli and the possibility that this stranger might share a similar inclination for survivalist preparedness. Perhaps, he pondered, the type to be in all those survival groups on social media and to buy Amazon's collection of survival gear.

Suddenly, a force from behind propelled Louis forward, crashing into the green-eyed stranger. Both of them spun around simultaneously, but Louis barely had time to crouch and avoid a punch aimed at his face. Two men had appeared, seemingly eager for a fight.

Behind him, he heard the sounds of a scuffle, grunts, and groans, but the man in front of him, ready to unleash violence, demanded his full attention. Reluctant to draw his knife, Louis began to retreat cautiously, evading the flurry of fists that the stranger was using to defend himself. It was then that he remembered the pepper spray stashed in his backpack. He discreetly reached for it, fumbling to find the pocket while dodging incoming attacks. Fuelled by adrenaline, he managed to retrieve it and aimed at his attacker, releasing a stinging stream that forced the man to stumble back. With a powerful shove, Louis sent the assailant sprawling to the ground before turning to witness a shocking scene.

The curly stranger was pinned against his own car, a meaty dirty man pressing a baseball bat down his throat and ready to bring a knife down his stomach. Louis's heart raced as he saw the keys to the car scattered on the ground nearby. He noticed how Curly was struggling to push the bat and the knife away, trying to create as much distance as possible between his face and the weapons, his arms trembling, and his breath ragged.

Right now, Louis had two choices. He could run for it, abort the mission and attempt to find his way on his own; each person for his own. Yet, remaining here, frozen in time and looking as the one who had just saved him only minutes prior being attacked felt utterly wrong. There was something about the green of his eyes and the manner in which some sort of softness was concealed in them that made him feel safe.

Blinking out of his haze, driven purely by adrenaline and instinct, Louis acted swiftly. He ran, swooping down and snatching the keys, feeling the cool metal in his grasp. Faced with a life-or-death decision, he drew his own knife and used it to fend off the attacker, thrusting the blade into the man's side from behind.

The realisation of his act hit him as soon as he pulled the knife out, accompanied by a wet screeching sound. He watched as the man turned to him with startled eyes, attempting to stop the bleeding from his wound before slumping to the side. Louis made the mistake of looking down, a hushed gasp escaping his mouth as he noticed red coating his hands, letting go of the knife as it had burned him, taking a few steps back to try to put as much distance with the body as he could. He felt as if he couldn't breathe, tears clinging to the brim of his eyes, straining not to fall down.

"Hey," Curly’s voice broke through his daze, strong hands gripping Louis's shoulders, giving him a gentle shake. "Hey, look at me." The stranger lowered his bandana and bent down to be at eye sight with him, finally revealing his face. Louis's dry lips parted, his breath unsteady as he met the stranger's gaze.

Louis' attention was drawn to the stranger's appearance. The man was younger than he had anticipated, with milky skin and a strong jawline that cut through the dark brown curly locks that were now free of their restraint. He couldn't have been much more than twenty-four, with huge green eyes flecked with gold, furrowed brows and dry plump lips. He appeared soft but menacing at the same time, looming above Louis by two inches or more, his immense palm still clutching his shoulders and anchoring him.

"Are you with me?" His deep voice cut again through the chaos in Louis’ brain, bringing him back to the present.

Louis blinked a few times, his gaze locking with the intense green eyes that were fixed on him. Both of them were panting and sweating, the adrenaline from their recent encounter still coursing through their veins. Slowly, Louis nodded, his trembling hand extending to dangle the car keys from his index finger.

"Thanks," the stranger said with a quick nod. He retrieved both of Louis's knife and the discarded baseball bat from the ground before taking the keys. "For these,” He waved the key, “And for your help," he acknowledged, gesturing toward the incapacitated assailant.

Guiding Louis into the car, the stranger's movements were smooth and confident. He opened the door and secured it once Louis was safely seated. Louis sat in a daze, watching as the car roared to life, leaving behind the fallen attacker on the street. The drive was surreal, a journey through chaos that mirrored the world's descent into turmoil. Louis's gaze remained fixed on his bloodied hand, the sight threatening to overwhelm him. A soft touch on his palm brought him back to reality—a gentle fabric, the stranger's bandana.

"Wipe them, don't look," the stranger instructed, his tone gentle yet authoritative. Louis complied, using the fabric to clean his blood-streaked fingers, his mind a whirlwind of confusion and disbelief.

"What's your name?" The stranger's voice broke the tension, offering a brief respite.

"Louis," he replied tersely, the trauma still evident in his tone.

Silence settled in the car for a while, the stranger expertly manoeuvring through the debris-strewn streets, navigating around both living and inanimate obstacles. The landscape of destruction weighed heavily on Louis, the contrast to his once-familiar surroundings stark and disheartening.

"I'm Harry."

Chapter 3: Upminster

Chapter Text

The usual drive from Tottenham to Stratford, a mere twenty minutes on most days, had turned into an endless ordeal. The roads were choked with abandoned cars, and the once bustling streets now resembled a nightmarish scene from a horror film. Louis and Harry were trapped in the midst of the chaos, their car inching forward amidst the cacophony of sirens, honking horns, and terrified screams.

Louis stared out of the window, his heart racing as he watched people desperately fleeing, leaving their vehicles behind in a frantic attempt to outrun the madness. A pang of guilt washed over him for not being able to do more to help them. He clenched his phone tightly, repeatedly attempting to call his family, but the only response he received was the automated message of disconnection.

"Sorry, your call could not—"

Frustration bubbled within him, threatening to boil over. He let out a frustrated groan and threw his phone onto the dashboard, slumping back in his seat.

"First of all, don't ever do that in my car," Harry's voice broke through the tense silence, causing Louis to jump slightly. He leaned forward and took Louis’ phone, putting it down in the console between them. "Second of all, can you stop being dramatic and try the radio?"

Louis looked at him with shock, his mouth opening slowly as he processed Harry's words, unable to believe his ears. "Is it-" He stopped himself, "Are you joking?"

But Harry only turned to him with a blank face and an annoyed gaze.

"It's the fucking end of the world? People are dying? I killed someone, you almost got killed. You've got fucking blood over your face? And I am dramatic? Are you okay? Are you like... a serial killer or something?"

As Harry's driving picked up speed, Louis clung to the door handle to keep from sliding around. Just as he was about to comment on Harry's reckless driving, a voice crackled through the radio, breaking through the noise.

"All people are to join the municipal buildings—schools, churches, gyms—the army is on its way. Stay grouped, beware of infected — — kill."

The message was choppy, but the gravity of the situation was clear. Louis felt a chill run down his spine as the words "beware of infected" echoed in his mind. He slumped back into his seat, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on him. He thought of his family, his mother alone with his young siblings. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he blinked them away, determined not to let panic consume him.

For a while, silence filled the car, broken only by the sound of the engine and the tires on the pavement. Louis finally turned his gaze to his phone, the bright screen announcing six am and twenty-four minutes, a stark contrast to the dark and smoky cityscape outside.

"We should stop for a bit of rest," Harry's voice broke the silence, startling Louis.

"What? Why? We're close," Louis protested, his anxiety evident.

Harry's tone was firm but weary. "No, we're not."

Louis glanced around, realising that they were on an unfamiliar path, far from the route to Stratford. Confusion and frustration knitted his brows together as he searched for a street sign.

"We're close to Upminster."

"What? I thought we were heading to Stratford."

Harry shook his head slightly, his gaze never leaving the road. "Couldn't go that way. The roads are blocked."

Louis' eyes widened, a mix of disbelief and fear flooding through him. ‘’And you couldn’t tell me ?’’

“I’m telling you now.’’

He sank back into his seat, his mind racing to process the new information. The city had become a chaotic nightmare, and even the most familiar routes were now treacherous. He realised that the plan had to change, that survival required adaptability in the face of the unexpected.

The tension between Louis and Harry had momentarily subsided, replaced by a shared understanding of the dire circumstances they were in. As Harry navigated the unfamiliar path, Louis stared out at the city that was now plunged into an eerie darkness punctuated by the flickering lights of emergency vehicles.

"It’s late. Or early. I don’t know.’’ He said, swiping a palm from his eyes to his chin, sighing. ‘’We'll find a safe place to rest," Harry's voice was steady, offering a glimmer of reassurance.

Louis nodded, his throat tight.

The drive continued in an eerie silence, broken only by the distant sound of sirens and the occasional screech of tires on pavement. Louis found himself fidgeting with the balaclava on his lap, a nervous habit that helped distract him from the overwhelming reality outside. Harry, on the other hand, remained focused and stern, his hands gripping the wheel tightly as he navigated the unfamiliar roads. Eventually, they arrived in Upminster, a once-quiet town now marred by the chaos that had engulfed the city. The town felt deserted, as if everyone had fled in a hurry. Houses were barricaded, windows covered with makeshift defences. Abandoned cars littered the streets, a stark reminder of the panic that had swept through the area.

They drove cautiously through the desolate streets, both Harry and Louis scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger. The town had an air of deprivation about it, as if it had been drained of life and vitality by the catastrophe that had unfolded. Shops were closed and emptied, their shattered glass doors and boarded-up windows standing as testament to the chaos that had ensued.

Harry finally brought the car to a stop behind what appeared to be an abandoned factory. Without waiting for Louis, he got out of the car and began searching the area. Louis hesitated for a moment, his hand reaching back to retrieve his knife from the backseat before cautiously stepping out of the vehicle. He followed Harry's lead, his eyes darting around as he took in their surroundings. Harry was dragging a long white plastic cover, a tarp of sorts, which he laid over the car. Louis approached him silently, understanding the need to conceal the car from potential threats.

Working together, they managed to cover the car completely, a makeshift attempt at keeping it hidden from view. Louis couldn't help but hope that their means of escape would still be there when they needed it most. As Harry retrieved their backpacks and the baseball bat from the backseat, Louis kept his knife close, a grim reminder of the dangers that surrounded them.

Securing the keys in his pocket and sliding a gun into the back of his trousers, Harry's actions prompted Louis to finally voice a question that had been lingering in his mind. "Are you a cop or something?"

Harry's response was not verbal. Instead, he shot Louis a glare, his expression a mix of irritation and intensity. Louis couldn't help but roll his eyes, realising that Harry wasn't in the mood for banter. With a sigh, he followed Harry's lead, shouldering his backpack and readying himself for whatever came next.

"What the hell are we going to do now?" Louis hissed, gripping the knife tightly in his sweaty palms as he followed the muscled back of the man in front of him.

Harry's expression was grim, his eyes scanning the surroundings as they hid behind a wall. "We need to stay quiet and move slowly. They're attracted to sound and movement."

"Oh, great plan, Sherlock," Louis muttered under his breath. "Let's just tiptoe our way through the apocalypse."

"Shut up!" Harry's voice was a furious whisper. "This isn't a joke. We need to focus and—"

Before Harry could finish his sentence, a sudden rustling came from a nearby alley. Both of them froze, their hearts pounding as they locked eyes. Louis felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple. And then it appeared. An infected, its skin a sickly shade of grey, its clothes torn and stained with filth. Its mouth hung open, emitting a guttural moan that sent shivers down Louis' spine.

"Stay still," Harry mouthed, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and determination.

The infected shuffled closer, its cloudy eyes locking onto the car they just left behind. Louis tightened his grip on the knife while Harry slowly raised his bat, his knuckles turning white. Just as the infected was about to reach the car, a sudden crash echoed through the air. Another infected emerged from a nearby building, drawn by the noise. The two creatures collided, emitting unearthly growls as they fought over whatever had caused the disturbance.

"Come on," Harry whispered urgently, grabbing Louis' arm and pulling him away from the scene.

They moved as silently as possible, ducking into an alley and putting as much distance between themselves and the infected as they could. Finally, they found a small alcove behind a dumpster, catching their breath, Louis started humming a song.

"I told you to stay quiet," Harry hissed, his frustration evident.

"Oh, spare me," Louis shot back, his voice a mixture of fear and irritation. "You act like you've got this all figured out. Newsflash, we're all just trying to survive here."

Harry clenched his jaw, his nostrils flaring. "Panicking isn't going to help anyone. We need to think rationally."

"Rationally?" Louis laughed bitterly. "You mean like when you decided it was a brilliant idea to venture out into a town full of zombies instead of staying in the car? Or when you jumped out of that window maybe ? Or when y-"

Harry’s big palm came to slap against Louis’ mouth and effectively shut him up, bringing his own forefinger to his mouth to signal him to lower the volume of his voice. "They're infected, not zombies," Harry corrected with an exasperated sigh. "And we have no choice. Staying put wasn't an option." He ignored how blue eyes were shooting daggers at him.

Louis rolled his eyes and slapped at the hand, making a show of wiping his chin and mouth with his sleeve. "Right. So, what's the next genius move, Professor?"

Harry's gaze hardened. "We need to find a safe place, gather supplies, and figure out how to get to my friend."

"Your friend," Louis muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Just a casual stroll through the end of the world to meet up with your pals." He crossed his arms on his chest. ‘’I need to go to Camden, or Manchester. No even better, Doncaster.’’

Harry's patience seemed to wear thin. “Yeah well, first, we find my friend, then, we’ll see.’’

‘’But I-’’

"Look, I didn't force you to come with me. This situation sucks. But if you don’t stop running your mouth, god help me cause I might-"

With a roll of his eyes and without even waiting for Harry to be done talking, Louis gave him a very obvious fake smile, his eyes crinkling with a tilt of his head and he turned around to simply disappear around the corner, humming a song under his breath. Harry had almost half a mind to let him go, run back to the car and keep on his journey alone, but somehow, he couldn’t find himself to do it. Biting at the inside of his cheek to maintain a scream of frustration, he followed him.

Louis was striding toward a shop that bore the scars of being ransacked by those who had likely fled long ago. Louis was for once, walking cautiously, navigating through shattered glass and debris, his senses on high alert.

Once inside the shop, they instinctively separated, each searching for supplies amidst the remnants of what used to be a small mini-market. Ten minutes later, Harry made his way in order to find Louis, trying to look through the narrow aisles. When he neared a corner at the far end of the shop, he heard then, a faint humming.

‘’If I lay here,’’ Harry stopped in his tracks, a slice of bread half lifted to his lips, listening for a few seconds how soothing Louis’ voice was. ‘’If I just lay here,’’

He stepped into the aisle, with a packet of fresh bread clutched under his arm while he chewed on a whole piece of toast. Louis was deciding between the last box of Coco Pops and a stack of granola bars, still humming, when the distant sound of an approaching car prompted Harry's reaction.

A single raised eyebrow signalled to Louis that something was amiss. Without hesitation, Harry grabbed Louis by his backpack and ushered him toward the back of the store. Louis hastily grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the counter as he was pulled along, his back colliding uncomfortably with the wall.

"Ow," Louis whispered loudly, his annoyance evident.

Harry shot him a stern look, shoving the packet of bread into Louis' chest before brandishing his baseball bat. He positioned himself protectively in front of Louis, his posture tense as they waited for the source of the approaching sounds. The footsteps and rumble of voices grew closer, but Harry remained unmoving, ready to defend them at a moment's notice. Minutes stretched on, the tension palpable in the air. Finally, the sounds receded, and Harry nodded toward the back door, silently instructing Louis to make a swift exit.

As they stepped back into the daylight, Louis couldn't hold back his curiosity any longer. "What was that all about?"

Harry glanced at him briefly before resuming his brisk pace. "People are desperate to survive. They could have attacked us."

Louis huffed, a sense of frustration building within him. "Or they could have helped us."

Harry's voice was firm, conviction lacing his words. "Or they could have stolen my keys and then killed us just for the car."

The subject of trust and survival lingered heavily between them. Louis had already experienced the harsh reality of the world they now inhabited, the thin line between desperation and betrayal. He picked at the packet of bread in his hand, his thoughts churning.

They walked in silence for a while, the weight of their circumstances hanging over them. Louis felt a mix of gratitude and relief that he had crossed paths with Harry. Someone who seemed capable and collected in the face of danger, a contrast to Louis' own fear and uncertainty. He couldn't help but acknowledge that if he were alone or partnered with someone like himself, the outcome might be far grimmer.

Yawning, Louis felt the weight of exhaustion settling in, his body aching as if he'd just realised how weary he was. His gaze turned upward, surveying the darkening sky as if expecting even the sun to be extinguished by the chaos around them. The thoughts of his family resurfaced, a flood of worries about his mother, sisters, and the twins overwhelming him. He sighed, tearing his attention away from the sky and hurrying to keep pace with him.

Harry led them toward an apartment complex, his steps purposeful but his expression laden with concern. Louis couldn't help but quicken his own pace, noting how Harry seemed preoccupied and distant, lost in his thoughts. As they approached the entrance, Harry pulled the door open with a tense grip on the baseball bat he carried. Louis followed closely behind, his jack knife at the ready, a constant reminder of the world they now inhabited.

Ascending one flight of stairs, they walked with caution, ensuring they could see both up and down the staircase. The building was a mix of open doors revealing ransacked apartments and barricaded ones, evidence of desperate attempts to seek refuge. Just as they were about to ascend to the next flight of stairs, a sound halted Louis in his tracks.

His heart pounded in his chest, his body freezing as he turned abruptly toward a nearby window. Straining his ears, he listened, unsure if he was just too tired or if the sound was real. And then, he heard it.

"Hey, what a—"

"Shh," Louis cut Harry off sharply, raising a hand to signal him to be quiet. He approached the window slowly, the adrenaline coursing through him, his tiredness momentarily forgotten. He leaned closer to the window, the sound growing clearer.

Then he saw her—a little girl, no older than six or seven, walking on the pavement. She had red hair, a cute little yellow dress and orange shoes. In her arms, she clutched a bloodstained teddy bear, her cries piercing the air. Louis' heart ached, his breath catching in his throat as he dropped his knife, the bread and his bag, moving to open the window.

"Hey, no, no, no," Harry's voice protested behind him, grabbing at his forearms from behind and attempting to turn him away from the scene. But Louis was resolute, his grip on the window unwavering as he fought against Harry's restraint, his voice trembling.

"She's a kid." Louis pushed back against Harry's grasp, determined to open the window and reach out to the child. Harry's hands were on him again, but Louis was unyielding, his focus on the window and the heartbreaking scene below.

"We can’t," the voice sounded from behind him, and then there was a heavy thud on the floor. Before he could react, both of Harry's hands were on him, but this time, they gave him no chance of escape as they firmly spunned him around, forcing their eyes to meet. ‘’Hey, stop it.’’

"No, no, she's a child. A b-baby," Louis pleaded, his eyes welling up with tears. He tried to break free from Harry's hold, his gaze still locked onto the little girl.

That's when he saw it. An infected emerged from a nearby house, charging after the girl. His breath hitched, his heart racing as he witnessed the girl turn to the sound, her cries growing louder. Panic surged through Louis as he watched the infected close in on her, and then, in a horrifying moment, the infected lunged at her.

Before Louis could react and try to break free again, he was enveloped by a strong embrace, pressed tightly against a chest, his vision obscured by the fabric of Harry's jumper. He squeezed his eyes shut as the girl's screams pierced the air, the sound etching itself into his very soul. And then, the sickening sounds of chewing and biting reached his ears, and his world went black as he succumbed to unconsciousness.

Chapter 4: Stratford

Chapter Text

Louis woke up with a start.

Everything felt foreign and bewildering as he sat up abruptly on the small sofa he'd been laid upon, a heavy blanket tumbling from his shoulders. The interior of the cramped flat slowly came into focus as he rubbed his eyes and tried to piece together the events from the previous day to the present moment. The small window behind him, barely covered by a wooden plank, offered a glimpse of the sun's feeble attempt to pierce through, casting a dim light inside.

A soft, rhythmic thudding sound emanating from a narrow hallway pulled his attention away from the window. Harry appeared then, seemingly not noticing that Louis was awake. His damp hair dripped onto the white, thin shirt he was now wearing, a multitude of tattoos littering his arms and peeking out from the material. Harry's skin appeared clearer and lightly bronzed with the morning daylight, his full lips boasting a natural pinkish hue. Harry's physique looked even more substantial than Louis had initially assumed, his biceps flexing as he reached up to sweep his curls away from his face. Louis also noticed the faint bruises on his jaw and under his eyes from the altercation they had experienced the previous day, a stark reminder of the sacrifices Harry had made to protect him.

If it was in another context, in another world even maybe, Louis would have said that Harry's face was a captivating blend of masculine features, dreamy eyes, and a versatile appearance. But now, all he felt was anger and injustice.

"Oh, you're up." He moved past the couch and placed a bottle of water on the coffee table, his tone casual and detached.

Louis attempted to shake off the remnants of sleep, his mouth parched and his body sore from their frantic escapades. He shifted his gaze toward the window, which was now obscured by a large piece of wood, blocking the outside world. Glancing around the room, he noticed the scattered books and clothes on the floor, realising that Harry had likely chosen one of the vacant flats for their temporary refuge.

His attention was drawn to a family portrait on a nearby shelf, a pang of guilt and sadness hitting him. He couldn't help but wonder about the people who once lived here—where they were now, if they had managed to survive the chaos that had overtaken the city. However, as he looked back at Harry, the resentment stemming from their earlier conversation surged back, causing his anger to boil within him once more. The memory of the little girl's fate was a constant reminder of the harsh realities they faced and the choices they had to make.

Harry's nonchalant demeanour during it all only fuelled Louis' frustration. His anger simmered beneath the surface as he clenched his fists, struggling to find the right words to express his emotions. The room felt suffocating, the tension between them palpable, as if the walls themselves were closing in on them. Louis desperately wanted to confront Harry about the girl's death, to demand an explanation and to vent his own feelings of helplessness and guilt. Yet, the weight of their situation, the uncertainty of their future, and the newfound bond they were forging all complicated his emotions.

As Harry moved about the room, seemingly searching the place for supplies or even and maintaining complete silence, Louis found himself torn between his resentment and his growing need for Harry's guidance and protection. The anger that simmered within him was tinged with an unspoken fear, a fear that he was just as capable of becoming hardened and ruthless in this new world as Harry seemed to be. The room felt charged with emotions that refused to be contained, a microcosm of the world outside. And as the seconds ticked by, Louis struggled to find his voice, to address the turmoil within him, and to confront the challenges that lay ahead.

"Why did you let me come with you?"

Harry frowned as he was crouching down, searching in a small cabinet, his expression betraying his confusion at Louis' tone. "You… were in my way?"

Louis' anger grew, fuelled by the memory of the girl's tragic fate. "She was in our way too, we could have done something."

Harry's response was a hand freezing mid-air while he was attempting to finish his water, followed by a tense silence, as he turned away and began searching the kitchen for supplies. Louis pushed himself off the sofa, the cold floor against his bare feet serving as a reminder of the reality they were living in. He followed Harry, determined to confront him about what had happened.

"We could have saved her," Louis reiterated, his voice laden with a mix of frustration and desperation.

Harry's attention remained focused on his task as he took a fruit in his hand, his back to Louis as he muttered, "We can't save everyone, she could have been infected."

Louis' anger surged, his emotions seizing control as he retorted, "I could have been infected too, you didn't check."

Harry froze, his grip on the apple tightening until his knuckles turned white. He placed the fruit on the counter with more force than necessary, his movements sharp and harsh. Suddenly, he advanced toward Louis, his fingers wrapping around Louis' wrist with rough intensity. In one swift motion, he rolled up Louis' sleeves, inspecting his arms closely before tugging at the hem of his shirt to expose his stomach.

"You seem pretty healthy to me," Harry snapped, his voice biting, his expression unyielding. He pushed Louis back slightly and retreated to his place in the kitchen.

Louis' anger remained undiminished, the tension between them almost palpable. "You're an asshole," he spat, his frustration etched into his words.

Harry's retort was equally sharp, his back still turned to Louis as he rummaged through a cabinet. "Is that how you say thank you to someone who saved your ass?"

"I didn't ask you to," Louis shot back, his voice just as quick and heated.

With a surge of frustration, Harry slammed the cabinet door shut with an excessive force that made them both flinch. He turned around, his long hair framing his face as he moved. Louis watched as Harry approached the window, forcefully removing the wooden plank that had kept the outside world at bay. He swung the window open and pointed outside, his anger palpable.

"Go then," Harry challenged, his voice laced with a raw intensity. "Get the fuck out and survive on your own if you think you're better than me!"

Louis was momentarily frozen, his gaze locked on the seething anger in Harry's eyes, the tense rise and fall of his chest, and the quivering of his outstretched finger. He swallowed hard, his thoughts racing as he desperately tried to find the right words to counter Harry's challenge. But the words eluded him, and he lowered his gaze, his frustration mingling with uncertainty.

"We could have tried," Louis finally admitted, his voice softer now, the heat of his anger giving way to a resignation.

Harry's eyes closed briefly, his lips pressed into a tight line as he wrestled with his own emotions. When he opened his eyes, a fleeting flicker of pain and rage passed through his gaze before vanishing.

"She wasn’t the first one and she won’t be the last one. We can't save everyone," Harry stated, his voice weary but resolute. Closing the distance between them, he came to stand in front of Louis, their proximity charged with tension. "I saved you back there, and you saved me at the car. But it's probably just luck. I didn't need to do that. So, hate me all you want, you're free to leave. As for me, I'll be gone in ten minutes, with or without you."

Louis felt the weight of Harry's words settle within him, his anger slowly dissipating and being replaced by a swirl of emotions—confusion, vulnerability, and an unexpected bond that had grown amidst the chaos. The turmoil outside may have been fuelled by infection and fear, but in that moment, the inner battle between anger and understanding raged on within both of them. With no further words to exchange, Louis retreated towards the hallway, his footsteps echoing as he slammed the bathroom door shut behind him.

Under the soothing cascade of the shower, Louis allowed the warm water to wash over him, the comfort of it a stark contrast to the cold and unforgiving reality outside. His eyes were puffy and swollen from a tumultuous mix of emotions. Stepping out of the shower, he used his palm to clear the fog from the bathroom mirror. His reflection stared back at him, eyes searching and troubled. Leaning on the sink, he locked eyes with himself, his breath hitching in his throat.

The weight of the situation settled in more deeply, the uncertainty of the world outside sinking in. The memories flashed through his mind—the screams, the scent of smoke, the haunting sounds of those creatures pursuing their victims. And then, the image of the little girl, her cries, and the fall of her teddy bear as she was attacked. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to shake the haunting images from his mind, but they lingered, etched into his memory.

Emerging from the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist, his skin still damp, Louis resolved not to broach the situation with Harry any longer. He didn't want to appear vulnerable or emotional; he wanted to maintain his own facade of strength. Walking into the living room, he found Harry busy at the centre island of the kitchen with both of their backpacks laid open in front of him, all the items neatly organised aside.

"What are you doing?" Louis asked, his tone as cold as possible, leaning against the door frame and crossing his ankle.

When Harry's head snapped up at Louis' voice, his eyes slowly widened, their gaze travelling from Louis' ankles to his legs before quickly averting as they reached the towel wrapped around his waist. Harry cleared his throat, his face turning slightly red, and Louis couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at his reaction.

"I—" Harry cleared his throat again, his fingers nervously grasping the flashlights within the bag. "I'm reorganising the bags, seeing what we have and what we can leave behind."

Louis remained silent, studying the tension in Harry's broad shoulders and the way his curls fell across his face as he looked down. "Who said I'm going with you?" Louis quipped, challenging Harry with a defiant gaze.

For a brief moment, Harry froze, his body rigid, before he looked up. The sight of it made Louis's heart skip a beat. The fact that his face was still lowered, and only his eyes had snapped up, made him look like a wolf in pursuit. The forest green of his eyes contrasting with his skin and the curls falling next to his face. A lone strand of hair brushed against Harry's nose. They stared at each other with intensity, neither of them wanting to be the first to break.

"Whatever," Harry responded, his accent more pronounced and his voice deeper.

They stood there, locked in a wordless exchange, their gazes locked as they assessed one another. A charged atmosphere hung between them, the tension palpable, filled with something just a bit more than anger and exhaustion. Just as it seemed something might break the silence, a sudden scream from outside caused them both to startle, the sound cutting through the room.

"Fuck's sake," Louis muttered, breaking the spell and reminding them both of the dire reality beyond the apartment's walls.

"Get dressed," Harry's voice finally broke the silence, its tension unmistakable but unconvincing.

Louis complied, disappearing in one of the rooms with his clothes, putting back on his cargo pants and slipping into a new hoodie he found in the apartment. He made his way to the front door closet, rummaging through the shoes. Realising that his white Nikes wouldn't be ideal for running through the chaos outside, he opted for a pair of hiking boots instead, lacing them tightly and testing them with a slight jump to ensure they were secure. Satisfied, he returned to the living room where Harry was done organising their belongings.

Once their bags were loaded onto their shoulders, they adjusted their clothes and prepared for the outside world. Louis pulled on his hood and secured a clean black surgical mask over his face. Harry tied his hair into a bun and positioned his balaclava over the lower half of his face. Louis found himself gazing out the window, observing the empty streets below and the eerie silence that surrounded them. The scream they had heard moments ago served as a haunting reminder that danger was never far away.

Harry cleared his throat, breaking Louis from his thoughts, and motioned for him to follow. Louis hesitated at the entrance, his uncertainty and fear evident. He berated himself for not being as courageous as Harry seemed to be.

"You okay?" Harry's voice was a low whisper, his eyes scanning their surroundings as he closed the door and briefly checked both directions.

Louis nodded, his lips dry as he licked them nervously.

"Take this," Harry said, handing him the baseball bat. Louis accepted it, his grip firm on the handle, while Harry produced a jackknife from one of his cargo pants pockets, flicking it open with a practised motion.

"Why do you have the knife and I get the bat?" Louis whispered, his curiosity evident, though he missed the eyeroll that Harry gave in response.

"You have your own knife," Harry whispered back, beginning to descend the stairs cautiously. Louis followed closely behind, gripping the baseball bat and scanning their surroundings as they moved downward.

"Why should I have to carry the bat? It's heavier," Louis continued in a hushed tone, his gaze flickering around as they reached the first floor.

"Then give it to me," Harry replied, turning to Louis with a frustrated look, his back pressed against the wall as he glanced toward the main door for any potential threats. He held his hand out expectantly.

Louis pulled the bat back, a defiant expression on his face. "No."

Harry let out an exasperated sigh, his body turning to fully face Louis, his frustration palpable. "You're so damn annoying. Do you have to argue about everything?"

Louis was about to retort, but something caught his attention beyond Harry's shoulder. His eyes widened, and in one swift motion, he tugged on the strap of Harry's backpack and pushed him forcefully toward the stairs. Harry stumbled and landed on the first step, confusion on his face, when Louis swung the baseball bat with all his might, hitting an infected right in the head. The creature's body thudded against the wall before slumping to the ground, a wet and sickening sound accompanying its fall.

Louis stood there, his heart racing, the bat still held mid-air, his breaths uneven. Harry slowly got to his feet, his gaze fixed on the fallen creature and then on Louis. He circled around Louis, coming to stand in front of him, a mixture of surprise and something else in his eyes. Louis blinked at him once, slowly lowering his weapon as Harry’s hand reached out for his face, using the knuckle of his index finger to wipe at some blood under his eyes, remembering last minute to use just a bit of force to cover his gesture.

"You still don't want the bat?" Harry's gaze flickered to the baseball bat Louis was holding.

Louis swallowed hard, lowering the bat fully as he looked down at the infected's lifeless body with a mix of disgust and fear. He then met Harry's gaze, his resolve firming. "I saved you twice."

With a determined stride, Louis headed for the door, forcefully nudging Harry's shoulder as he passed him. He missed the faint upward twitch of Harry's lips as he followed closely behind. The world outside was waiting, and they had no choice but to face it together.

Navigating through the streets, their journey to the car remained surprisingly uneventful, though the recent events had left them on edge. They moved cautiously, alert to any sound that might hint at danger. Once inside the car and back on the road, the silence felt heavy, only broken by the hum of the engine. Louis made another attempt to use his phone and the radio, only to be met with the same lack of signals. Seeing Harry's focused expression, he decided to hold back on further arguments for now.

As Harry drove the car through turns and corners, Louis took the opportunity to rummage through his backpack. Fitting himself in between the two front seats, he tried to retrieve something while dealing with the swaying of the vehicle. His movement caught Harry's attention, and he couldn't help but comment, his voice tinged with exasperation,

"Um, can you not wriggle that thing in my face while I'm driving?"

Louis paused, his hand halfway into his backpack, and lifted an eyebrow. He tilted his head to the side, nearly upside-down, while his lower body remained lodged between the seats. Regaining his composure, he retorted, "Are you referring to my ass as a thing?"

"Well," Harry seemed to search for his words, "Yeah."

The lack of argument made Louis frown, but he kept searching, pushing with his feet to elevate his bum and make his point, all the while reaching for the cereal bar still wrapped in plastic. He slid back along the leather seat, finally securing his grip on the snack, his eyes never leaving Harry's face. He sensed the tension in the air, and Harry's bold stare unnerved him. The car veered slightly to the left, prompting Louis to grab onto the dashboard for support.

"Hey, eyes up there!" Louis exclaimed, his tone almost a shout, redirecting Harry's gaze back to the road. His cheeks felt warm, his heart racing from the unexpected flirtatious exchange. He couldn't help but feel a sense of triumph at having gotten under Harry's skin, even if just for a moment. "And I'll have you know, Harold, that my ass is a very precious and appreciated thing."

The awkward silence hung between them for a while, the tension palpable as they both grappled with the unexpected exchange. For Louis, it was a mix of amusement and surprise, while for Harry, it seemed to be a source of frustration. The moment allowed Louis a brief respite from the overwhelming chaos outside the car, and he held onto that small victory.

"Never call me that again." Harry finally broke the silence, his voice sounding slightly off, as if he was trying to shake off the moment.

Louis couldn't hold back a chuckle, his lips curling up into a mischievous smile. "Oh what? Harold? It sounds so much better. You look like a Harold, all grim and cold and boring."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Harry muttered under his breath, his irritation evident in his tone. Louis couldn't help but laugh louder this time, his amusement almost infectious.

As Louis threw a cereal bar at Harry's face and propped his feet on the seat, starting to bite on his own, the atmosphere in the car gradually shifted. The tension seemed to dissipate, replaced by a sense of camaraderie, even if it was rooted in banter and teasing. Louis found himself stealing glances at Harry, observing the man's focused expression as he drove, the way his hands gripped the steering wheel with a mix of determination and caution. He started humming the same song again, gazing out of the window and up toward the sky.

The journey through town was far from smooth. The highway was a chaotic mess, with abandoned cars strewn about and the road filled with obstacles. Harry expertly drove their car, weaving in and out to find a path through the congestion. Louis sat upright in his seat, his gaze shifting between the abandoned vehicles and the people on foot, all trying to navigate their way through the turmoil. As they drove, Louis couldn't help but watch the military planes in the sky, the helicopters hovering above, and the distant sound of firefighting trucks. The scenes around him were a surreal blend of panic and organised response. With a heavy heart, he turned to Harry and asked about their plans.

"Why don’t we go find the army?" Louis inquired.

"I need to find my friends first,"

"And then?" Louis pressed, seeking some reassurance.

"Then, we'll see," was all Harry said, leaving Louis with a mixture of hope and anxiety. “Listen, my friend he is... he is not very friendly, he-’’

‘’How surprising.’’ Louis said, cutting the man without a second thought, only to receive a dark glare.

‘’He is not friendly.’’ Harry insisted, ignoring Louis. ‘’He doesn’t trust easily. So when we are there, please, don’t talk.’’

‘’Oh, I love when you beg me.’’

Harry let his head tilt backward and hit the headrest with a loud and dramatic grunt, his eyes fixed to the ceiling of the car, muttering under his breath. ‘’why me?’’

‘’Hey, I heard that.’’

Time seemed to crawl as they navigated the traffic jam, and Louis felt his hunger return. He noticed Harry's restless tapping on the steering wheel, a sign of his own agitation. It was during this tense moment that Harry's demeanour shifted, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"What are you thinking?" Louis asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Hold tight," Harry said with a smirk, and before Louis could react, the car jerked to the left. Louis was thrown against the window, his startled squeak lost in the rumble of the engine.

With a sudden surge of acceleration, Harry pushed the car to its limits, the vehicle trembling beneath them as he expertly guided it through a maze of obstacles. Louis struggled to find his footing, his hand flailing for something to hold onto. The car swerved right this time, pressing him against Harry with an involuntary grip on his thigh.

"What the fucking fuck?!" Louis exclaimed, his voice a mix of shock and exasperation. The car continued its dizzying manoeuvres, turning and twisting as if defying the chaos around them. Eventually, they burst out of the congested highway and onto a smaller suburban street, where the chaos seemed momentarily subdued, Harry putting the car to an abrupt stop, making both of them jerk forward in their seats.

Louis took a deep breath, trying to steady himself as the car slowed down. He looked around, taking in the relatively peaceful surroundings, a stark contrast to the madness they had just left behind. It was as if they had entered a pocket of calm within the storm, offering a temporary respite from the havoc outside. When they both steadied their breathing and looked up, Louis froze. He looked down, his hand clutching the meaty skin of Harry’s thigh so hard his veins were popping out. Slowly, he opened his fingers and took his hand out, bringing it against his own chest and cradling his hand like he had gotten burned.

"So," Louis began, brushing his hair out of his face with an air of nonchalance. He shot Harry an unimpressed look. "Where are we now?"

Harry's gaze swept over their surroundings, taking in the neat row of townhouses and the quiet emptiness of the field beside them. He started the car again, driving slowly through the serene streets, allowing both of them to absorb the unusual calmness of the environment. "I'd say we're close to West Ham."

Louis reached for his back pocket, pulling out his phone to check. "So we should be near Stratford," he confirmed.

"Yep," Harry replied, his attention divided between the road and the surroundings. "What time is it?"

"Only eleven," Louis sighed, his frustration evident.

The lack of communication and information was gnawing at both of them, a constant reminder of the uncertainty surrounding their situation. As they continued to drive through the peaceful streets, they found themselves on Manor Road. The scene was eerily calm, with the houses seemingly untouched by the chaos that had overtaken the city. It was a stark contrast to the scenes of devastation they had witnessed earlier, and both Harry and Louis couldn't help but find it odd, almost surreal.

"Look at this place," Louis muttered, his gaze fixed on the unblemished houses lining the road. "It's like nothing happened."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, his brows furrowing in contemplation. "It's hard to believe."

They continued driving until they finally reached West Ham. The once bustling area now bore the scars of the outbreak. The road was scattered by burned cars, different types of trash and debris, making it almost impossible to go through. They had to abandon the car near the post office, their only way to keep going was to walk.

Leaving the car behind, they walked along the pavement, their senses on high alert for any signs of danger. As they approached the train station, a grim sight greeted them. The area was surrounded by the bodies of those who had tried to escape, their desperate attempts ending in tragedy.

Louis and Harry exchanged sombre glances, the reality of the situation sinking in once again before Harry stopped walking and made his way towards the pile of bodies, adjusting his baklava once again.

‘’What the hell are you doing?’’ Louis whispered shouted, staying a bit in retreat behind and checking the area around them with quick glances.

Ignoring Louis' question, Harry continued walking closer to the pile of bodies. He waved his hand in front of his face, presumably to keep flies and insects away. Louis felt a wave of disgust and unease at the sight, unable to comprehend why Harry would willingly approach such a grim scene.

Crouching down, Harry examined the bodies with a focused intensity. Louis, though apprehensive and maintaining a cautious distance, found himself compelled to follow. He walked slowly and deliberately, each step a careful placement as he approached Harry.

"Listen, I don't know what you—"

"They were shot," Harry stated, his voice devoid of emotion.

Louis stopped mid-sentence, his gaze shifting from Harry to the bodies strewn across the pavement. Shock and disbelief registered on his face as he squinted at the bodies, analysing the evidence in front of him. It became clear that none of the victims bore the signs of infection or transformation. Instead, they had been killed, their bodies riddled with gunshot wounds to their backs or chests.

"What—" Louis began, his voice trailing off in bewilderment.

"The army," Harry answered tersely, his tone heavy with implication.

He straightened up abruptly, adjusting his bag on his shoulder before resuming their intended path toward their destination.

Louis stood rooted to the spot for a moment, his gaze still fixed on the tragic scene before him. The sight of lifeless bodies, families, old and young, and even a pregnant woman, struck a chord deep within him. He swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat as his thoughts involuntarily turned to his own family's safety.

With a heavy heart, Louis finally tore his gaze away and took a deep breath. He forced himself to move, to follow in Harry's footsteps. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of the world pressing down on him.

They arrived in front of a police station, the cars outside abandoned and the once double glass doors shattered. Sharing a wordless look, Harry and Louis tightened their grip on their respective weapons and cautiously entered the building. Harry held his knife at the ready, while Louis clutched his baseball bat, feeling the weight of the situation as they stepped into the darkened interior.

As they ventured further into the police station, Louis soon lost sight of Harry amidst the maze-like layout of the building. It felt strange to be alone after having someone by his side for the past two days. Despite their differences, he had grown accustomed to Harry's presence, and being alone now left him feeling oddly vulnerable.

Louis found his way to what seemed like a common room, his stomach growling loudly as he discovered a fridge containing a ham and cheese sandwich. He devoured it hungrily, the feeling of sustenance bringing some relief. He absentmindedly rifled through documents as he ate, not even realising how hungry he had been until he began to feel the hunger subside.

Grabbing a can of coke, he intended to leave the room when he collided with another body, resulting in a startled scream. The can of coke slipped from his hand and splattered on the floor, causing his shoes to be drenched in the sticky liquid.

"Fuck," he exclaimed, clutching his chest in surprise.

Harry's expression remained unimpressed as he glanced down at the spilled coke before locking eyes with Louis. "Having fun?" he quipped, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"I hate you." Louis retorted, earning himself an eye roll. He took a certain delight in noticing the blush that crept up Harry's ears. "Where were you?"

Harry produced a large black bag from behind him, setting it on a nearby table and unzipping it in one go.

‘’Jesus fuck.’’

Louis' eyes widened as he peered inside, finding an assortment of guns ranging in size from small handguns to more imposing firearms. He blinked in awe, then looked back up at Harry, who wore a pleased expression.

"Um," Louis stammered, his gaze flickering away from Harry's as he felt his cheeks heat up. "I got you that." He held out the second sandwich he had grabbed earlier, shoving it toward Harry's chest, and quickly turned away to hide his embarrassment.

"Oh, wonderful, an armpit sandwich," Harry commented dryly.

Louis couldn't help but snort at the remark, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Just take it," he muttered, slightly embarrassed but unable to suppress his amusement.

"Alright," Harry conceded, accepting the sandwich with a smirk. He paused for a moment, then added, "Thanks."

Louis shrugged nonchalantly, trying to maintain his composure. "Don't mention it."

Their journey from West Ham to Stratford took them through a maze of streets, each step fraught with tension and danger. Infected lurked around every corner, their presence a constant reminder of the perilous world they now lived in. Some were slow, their movements lethargic, while others exhibited unexpected bursts of speed and aggression. Harry and Louis navigated the streets with caution, taking care to avoid drawing attention to themselves.

They encountered other survivors as well, but none of them were friendly. Some were desperate, driven to extreme measures by the scarcity of supplies. At one point, they found themselves trapped behind a building as violent raiders swept through the area, shouting and rummaging for supplies. Harry and Louis pressed themselves against the wall, their hearts pounding in their chests as they waited for the raiders to move on. They exchanged tense glances, their shared understanding unspoken but clear.

Once the coast was clear, they resumed their journey, weaving through the desolate streets of Stratford. The usually lively town had been transformed into a haunting ghost town, its vibrancy replaced by an eerie silence. Every corner turned and every building entered was a risk, a gamble with their lives. But they had come this far, and they were determined to reach their destination.

As they moved stealthily from building to building, using cover to their advantage, they managed to avoid most of the infected. However, the infected were growing in number, and their movements were becoming more unpredictable. It was in this tense atmosphere that they stumbled upon a lone infected, its back turned to them.

Harry's hand shot out, silencing Louis with a finger pressed to his lips. He unsheathed his knife slowly, his movements deliberate and controlled. With a half-crouch, he approached the infected from behind, his eyes focused and unwavering. His grip tightened around the knife handle as he struck, his elbow wrapping around the infected neck while the blade plunged into its back.

The infected struggled, its movements feeble and futile as Harry's arm tightened around its neck. Louis watched in a mix of horror and fascination as life drained from the creature's eyes. With a final, convulsive shudder, the infected went limp, collapsing to the ground. Harry released his grip, letting the lifeless body fall.

"Gross..." Louis whispered, his eyes never leaving Harry as he continued to assess him for any signs of injury. The brutality of the act was a stark reminder of the lengths they had to go to in order to survive. With that obstacle overcome, they continued their path, their determination unwavering.

Finally, they reached the main street of Stratford, just on the other side of the road from their destination.

The coffee shop stood just across the road, a small haven amid the chaos. Harry and Louis exchanged a look, their hearts pounding in anticipation. They had come so far, faced so much, and now they were on the cusp of safety. The road, however, was a battlefield of sorts, occupied by the infected. Grotesque figures stood swaying, their eyes vacant, their movements slow but deliberate. The infected filled the space between them and the coffee shop, a perilous path they had to navigate.

Harry's grip on his knife tightened as he took a deep breath, his eyes scanning the street for any movement. Louis felt his pulse quicken, his fingers trembling around the handle of his baseball bat. Together, they knew what they had to do – cross the road without attracting the attention of the infected.

Each step was deliberate, cautious, as they began to inch forward, Harry and Louis moving with calculated precision. Their movements were almost synchronised in their effort to remain unnoticed, crouching down and slowly making their way across the street. The infected were scattered haphazardly, their swaying and stumbling movements seemingly random, accompanied by groaning, moaning of pain, and eerie, hollow sounds. It was a macabre dance they had to navigate, every step a gamble in this nightmarish world.

The tension in the air was palpable as they continued, their eyes locked on the coffee shop ahead. Just a little more, they thought, hearts racing with the proximity to safety. But during their careful steps, disaster struck. Harry's foot landed on a small wooden branch, the cracking sound slicing through the eerie quiet of the street.

In a single, horrifying moment, they both looked at each other in shock before their heads whipped around to face the infected. Their worst fears were realised as every grotesque figure turned toward them, their piercing screams and menacing eyes locking onto their prey.

"Run!" Harry's voice sliced through the air, laced with urgency and panic.

Without a moment's hesitation, he surged forward, his legs pumping in a desperate sprint. Louis reacted instinctively, his heart pounding as he followed suit. The weight of their bags bore down on them, turning each step into a struggle against the fatigue that gnawed at their muscles.

Desperation fuelled their escape as they darted through the labyrinth of crumbling buildings and debris-strewn streets. The relentless pursuit of the infected was a gruesome symphony of nightmarish proportions, their hideous moans and guttural growls echoing in the darkness. Harry and Louis's breath came in ragged gasps, their hearts beating in rhythm with their frantic flight. They knew that the outcome of this harrowing chase could mean the difference between life and death in a world overrun by the undead.

The infected behind them were closing in faster than they'd anticipated. Grotesque forms moved with surprising agility, driven by an insatiable hunger. The once-distant coffee shop was now a distant beacon, its promise of safety driving them forward through the chaos. Adrenaline surged through their veins, lending speed to their desperate flight.

"LIAM, OPEN THE DOOR!" Harry's shout echoed through the empty street.

Louis' head snapped to the side, surprise evident in his wide eyes as he ran. The plea for help was unlike anything he'd heard from Harry before, a stark reminder of the life-and-death stakes they faced.

As they ran, Harry vaulted over a fallen lamppost, his movement fluid and practised. Louis, however, had to crouch and manoeuvre around it, losing precious seconds. His heart hammered in his chest, his gasps for air loud in his ears. The coffee shop's entrance was tantalisingly close, yet it felt agonisingly distant, each step taking a herculean effort.

Finally, Harry reached the door and threw his fists against it, the sound of his knocking reverberating through the air.

"LIAM, OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!" His voice was raw, a mix of frustration and desperation as he shouted. Louis was closing in on him, a dozen infected on his heels, their distorted forms swaying and snarling.

"Harry?" The voice from behind the door was filled with disbelief, an unmistakable tone of doubt tainting the question.

"Yes, fuck, it's me," Harry replied, his voice strained with a mix of emotions. Louis came up beside him, his chest heaving as he matched Harry's frantic pace. "Liam, Jesus, open the door!"

"What's my birthday?"

Louis couldn't believe what he was hearing. It was a bizarre challenge in the midst of the chaos, a question that seemed absurdly out of place. But the infected were closing in, their grotesque forms looming closer, their snarls growing louder. There was no time to question or hesitate.

"29 of August 1993!" Harry's response was laced with exasperation and panic. Every second felt like an eternity as they waited for a response. Louis' grip on his baseball bat tightened, his knuckles white as he clung to the only form of defence he had.

And then, the door cracked open, just a sliver of hope amidst the encroaching danger. Harry wasted no time, all but pushing through the gap, Louis following hot on his heels.

But as the door was already closing on Louis’ body, an infected hand shot out from the narrowing gap, its fingers gripping at his ankle with force and making him stumble. He fell face first on the ground, flat on his stomach, breath getting knocked out of his lungs with the brutality of the shock. Dread coiled in the pit of his stomach as he felt the cold, clammy touch and time seemed to slow as he turned to see the infected face, its vacant eyes fixed on him with hunger. Fear surged through him, paralysing him in place.

Harry's hand shot out, grabbing Louis' arm with a strength born of desperation. With a powerful yank, Harry pulled Louis forward, his heart pounding in his ears. But the infected's grip tightened, its nails digging into Louis' flesh, sharp and insistent. Pain radiated from his ankle as he was dragged back, his scream of agony mixing with the creature's guttural snarl.

"FUCK!" Harry's scream was raw and primal, the voice of a man pushed to his limits. He wasn't alone in his struggle; someone behind him was pulling on his backpack, adding their strength to the effort. But the infected's grip persisted, its fingers like a vice around Louis' ankle. Harry's muscles strained, every fibre of his being dedicated to breaking that hold.

With a last powerful tug, Harry managed to wrench Louis free, his breathless cry mingling with the sound of the door slamming shut. The door swung shut behind them, the infected's snarls abruptly silenced as the wooden barrier severed their connection to the danger that lurked outside.

They crashed onto the floor of the coffee shop, a tangle of limbs and heaving breaths. Their chests rose and fell with ragged gasps, adrenaline coursing through their veins as they lay in the aftermath of their narrow escape. Harry's hand slowly rose, falling onto Louis' back with a sequence of reassuring pats.

Louis finally pulled his head away from the crook of Harry's neck, his breath shaky and laboured. Their eyes locked, the tension that had defined their flight still palpable in the air, their breath mingling in between their faces, Harry’s hand slowly stopping his patting to settle at the lowest part of Louis’ back. Their proximity was unlike anything they had experienced before, the charged atmosphere between them heavy.

Chapter 5: The Pantry Coffee

Chapter Text

A thunderous thud against the door sent shockwaves through the room, causing them all to jump. Tension gripped the air, adrenaline surged through their veins, and each person in the room was on high alert. From his position atop Harry, Louis slowly climbed to his feet, his intention to rise stifled by a searing pain shooting up from his wounded foot, forcing him to fall to one knee. A heavily tattooed hand suddenly appeared in his field of vision, and Louis instinctively grasped it, hoping for assistance. The stranger hoisted him up, revealing a burly figure with a crisp buzz-cut and warm brown eyes.

"Thanks, mate," Louis began, wincing from the pain in his foot. "I really ne—"

Before he could finish speaking, he was violently shoved back against the wall. His wrist was seized and cuffed to a radiator pipe before he could even react.

"What the fuck?!" Louis yelled, yanking on his wrist violently, his breath still ragged from the initial scare. His heart raced in his chest, and anger surged within him.

Almost instantly, Harry scrambled to his feet, shouting, "What are you doing?!"

He took a step toward the man, only to be swiftly subdued. His arm was twisted behind his back, and a forceful shove brought him to the ground, a gun pressed against his head.

"Did they got you?!" the man screamed, frantically inspecting Harry from behind, forcefully turning his head with the tip of his gun and lifting his hoodie to examine his bare back. "Did they fucking got you?!"

"Liam, for god's sake, I'm not—" Harry protested, but his friend continued to scrutinise him, circling him and then stepping in front to inspect his arms, gun still at the ready. Meanwhile, Louis continued tugging relentlessly on the pipe.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" Liam berated Harry, letting him rise.

He passed by Harry and approached Louis to inspect him as well, but as he drew near, a heavy metallic object struck him on the forearm, causing him to recoil with a painful groan. Louis had managed to free himself from the pipe and wielded it as a makeshift weapon. He advanced on Liam, ignoring the pain in his injured foot, and raised the pipe, ready to strike again.

Harry intervened, using his hand to stop the pipe and pushing Louis back. "Stop it!" he yelled, his voice brimming with authority.

"Bloody hell, you son of a—"

"Liam!" Harry's voice cut through the tension, commanding attention.

Liam glared at Louis, his anger unabated. "Who the fuck is that?" he demanded, pointing an accusatory finger.

Louis took a step forward, bumping into Harry and raising the pipe to point at him. "I'm not your damn business!"

"Listen to me, you little shit-" Liam growled, taking another step closer.

"No, fuck you! You handcuffed me—"

Before Louis could launch himself at Liam again, Harry turned toward him and grabbed his neck with one hand while pushing his chest with its hold on the pipe with the other. He levelled Louis with a cold stare and clenched jaw, his voice deep and low. "You shut the fuck up," he said, each word dripping with intensity.

When Louis didn’t answer, Harry then turned to face Liam, sighing and brushing hair from his eyes. The room fell silent, the only sounds being their ragged breaths and the distant wailing of the infected outside.

"Listen—" Harry began, but Liam interrupted.

"He can't stay," Liam declared, directing his words squarely at Harry.

Struggling, Louis managed to stay on his feet, grimacing through the pain in his foot. He tried to advance again, but Harry was blocking him with his shoulder, acting like a shield between him and Liam. "Like hell I can't. I fucking saved Curly's ass twice, so if you think y-’’

"Enough!" Harry's voice thundered, echoing through the room, while an inhuman scream from outside responded, the infected growing more agitated by the second.

Louis then noticed another figure carelessly leaning against the wall. A massive wooden shelf had been pushed to block the door from the inside, and this man was likely responsible. He stood there, slightly slender with tanned skin, raven-black hair, and captivating almond eyes. They locked eyes, sizing each other up with judgement and curiosity. The stranger nodded slightly, accompanied by a tight-lipped smile.

"You," Liam said firmly, his gaze burning with anger, focusing on Harry. "We need to talk. Now."

As they left, Louis redirected his attention to the stranger, who hadn't spoken yet. He observed the man's movements and appearance—ripped skinny jeans, an expensive-looking t-shirt, perfectly styled hair, and an eyebrow piercing that added a touch of edge. Louis raised an eyebrow, wondering how someone could look so put together and stylish amidst such chaos when he likely appeared dishevelled.

Leaning heavily against the wall, he let out a long exhale, closing his eyes with a sense of relief at finally being in a relatively safe space—or at least halfway safe. But he felt a presence beside him and opened his eyes to find the dark-skinned stranger offering him a wooden chair and holding a first-aid kit.

"Let's get you cleaned up," the man said with a heavy accent. Louis hesitated for a few seconds but allowed his body to slump into the chair, exhaustion taking over.

"Fucking f-fuck!" Louis gritted, gripping the chair tightly as his foot was finally free from his boot.

The stranger knelt in front of him, placing Louis' foot on one of his raised knees, helping him out of his sock, and gently rolling up his cargo pants. He frowned while looking at the wound, fresh blood still dripping down the scratches.

"It's quite deep," the guy said, keeping Louis' foot propped up while he rummaged in the white first aid kit box. "It's going to sting."

"Spare me the details. Just go for it," he said, his tone sharp due to the overwhelming pain. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before the striking pain of something cold and wet rubbing at his ankle made him jump in the chair.

"Sorry," the stranger said, wiping delicately at Louis' ankle, his eyes focused on it. "So, Louis, right?"

Louis really didn't have the energy or the inclination to engage in conversation, but he also didn't want to create more enemies. He opened his eyes again, blinking away the tears, and nodded. "Mhmh. You?"

He watched as the stranger brought a white compress covered in a brownish liquid to his ankle, once again wiping at the wound, causing him to curse and throw his head back. "It's Zayn," he heard the stranger say.

He waited until the sting was somewhat bearable and brought his gaze back to Zayn, watching as he started rolling a bandage around his ankle, bending down and using his teeth to cut it.

"And what are you doing here then? You're friends with the bulldog that mauled me?" Louis quipped.

That earned him a snort, Zayn's shoulder shaking slightly. "Well," he helped Louis secure the bandage with a small piece of tape and finally took his foot off his knee, placing it on the floor. "He was my date. And I stayed the night. And well, we woke up to this."

Louis blinked, his mouth parting in disbelief. "Are you kidding me? You got stuck in the middle of the apocalypse with your one-night stand? Damn. Did you at least got some action?"

Zayn put everything back in the box, closed it, and got up, offering a bottle of water to Louis. "Isn't that why you came with Harry?"

Choking on his water and spluttering, liquid dripping down his chin and onto his clothes, Louis almost shot out of his chair until the pain in his ankle made itself known again, causing him to hiss. "What??" he almost screamed, his voice high-pitched and tense. "No, no, no," he laughed, shaking his head. "No, nope."

Zayn looked unimpressed and simply shrugged. But his eyes were rimmed red and his pupils heavily dilated. Louis suspected that Zayn's relaxed state might be due to the help of some substances, and suddenly, he wanted to be part of it. "Do you want a croissant?"

The door closed with a firm thud behind Harry, and Liam immediately pivoted toward him, his arms raised in frustration and annoyance etched across his face.

"What the fuck was that?" Liam's voice was laden with tension and frustration.

Harry brought a trembling hand to his face, needing a moment to steady himself and gather his thoughts. He raked his fingers through sweaty locks, freeing them from their bun.

"No, no, no. You listen to me," Liam interjected, refusing to let Harry explain. "First, you vanish. Then, you bring a complete stranger with you and turn against me to protect him? What the fuck, Harry?"

A growl of anger emanated from Harry as he stepped forward, locking eyes with his friend, and looming over him. "You're not my superior here, Liam. Not anymore."

An oppressive silence descended, their standoff intensifying as they both sought the upper hand. Eventually, Liam's shoulders slumped as he sighed heavily and, with a rough grip, clasped a hand on Harry's neck, pulling him close against his chest.

"You're alive," Liam said softly, his hand patting Harry's back firmly. Harry allowed himself to be embraced, his arm curling around Liam's waist, his eyes closed. "Did you get the girls to the truck?"

Harry tensed under Liam's touch. He disentangled himself and moved away from the embrace, walking toward the living room before sinking into an armchair, his elbows resting on his knees.

"Harry?" Liam's concern was palpable as he followed and perched on the edge of the sofa, closer to Harry.

"Only Gemma," Harry's voice was strained, the weight of the situation bearing down on him.

Realisation dawned on Liam's face. "What? But what about your m—"

Harry interrupted him sharply. "Only Gemma."

A heavy silence loomed between them once more, allowing Harry a moment to sit and relieve his aching legs. He slouched in the chair, head leaning back against the cushion, eyes closed, a lump in his throat.

"So, are we going to talk about all that?" Liam's voice held caution.

"It's a mess, Liam," Harry replied bluntly. He brought both hands to his face, closing his eyes, and attempted to regain his composure. The mix of adrenaline and exhaustion still coursed through his veins, making it difficult to think clearly. He straightened up once more. "I got stuck in Tottenham, right after I let Gemma go with the army. And then it was just... there's more of them than I thought. They're quick and smart. They hide. And let's not even mention the raiders."

Liam rested his elbows on his knees, listening intently. "And what about the little guy who nearly broke my arm?"

Harry snorted. "I… I couldn't ignore it." He finally looked up from his hands and instantly grew sombre as Liam raised an eyebrow. "I had no choice, Liam. He helped. He saved me."

Liam remained silent, running a hand through his short hair anxiously. "Okay, well. We should stay here for a while and wait until they send a car for us."

Harry abruptly turned his head to Liam, a deep furrow forming between his brows. "That's not going to happen."

"Listen, I know that we—"

"Liam. If they find us, they're going to be furious. I don't think we're high on their priority list."

When Liam stayed silent, Harry kept going, ‘’We passed near the train station,’’ He tried to keep his voice stable and calm, but he couldn’t help the slight wave and crack of it. ‘’They shot everyone who tried to cross.’’

“Fuck,’’ Liam acknowledged, his voice strained with worry. He stood up and paced around the coffee table, retrieving a bottle of whisky from a nearby cabinet. "I..." He closed the cabinet and turned to face Harry. "I don't know what to do now."

Harry regarded his friend with a mix of empathy and understanding. Liam was always the one who had control, who knew what to do and how to do it. Now, with uncertainty swirling around them, they all felt lost.

"Well, why don't you start by telling me who’s the guy?"

"Oh, he—" Liam cleared his throat and turned around to grab two glasses. "He got stuck inside. He came for bread. And..." He turned back to see Harry looking at him with a raised brow. "Yeah."

When Harry and Liam finally emerged from the room they were in, they found Zayn and Louis slumped next to a small round table, plates of croissants, donuts, and bread spread out in front of them. Two cups of coffee were steaming gently beside their plates, and the atmosphere seemed oddly relaxed. Zayn was chuckling while Louis wore a genuine smile, the skin around his eyes crinkling slightly as he picked at small bits of bread.

"Um," Harry said, looking back and forth between the two. "Are we disturbing afternoon tea?"

Louis turned his face to him, propping his chin on his palm with his elbow resting on the table. "Yes, actually. I don't want to see your frog face in front of my tea. So, if you and the Pitbull could simply go back to your ladies' talk, that would be nice." With a pleased expression, he threw a piece of bread into his mouth and chewed it with a very fake smile directed only at Harry.

Liam stood behind Harry, mouth agape and a shocked expression on his face, while Zayn continued to chuckle, stuffing his mouth with a croissant to stifle his own laughter, his shoulders shaking.

Harry balled his hands into fists at his sides, but instead of retreating, he grabbed a nearby chair and made his way toward their table, turned the chair around, and straddled it, resting his arms on the backrest. He gave Louis the exact same smile he'd received moments ago.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. Are you cross because I took too long?" he said, snatching the piece of bread from Louis' plate and stuffing it into his mouth, chewing obnoxiously loudly.

The delight was evident in Harry's eyes as he watched the smile fall from Louis' face, the latter's fingers faltering around the bread when Harry took it from him. Next to them, Zayn finally lost control and laughed out loud, getting up and shaking his head.

He walked past Liam, patting his shoulders. "I love him already, I hope we can keep him." he said before disappearing into another room.

"Great," Liam muttered under his breath, clearly unamused by the interaction.

After Zayn returned from his restroom break and some semblance of peace was established between Harry and Louis, Liam decided to gather everyone in the main room of the shop with a map. Throughout the lengthy twenty minutes of Liam's explanation, Harry discreetly hit him on the shin twice, pinched his forearm under the table once, and snorted out loud three times whenever Louis did something or tried to speak.

Despite their covert battle under the table, Louis managed to glean quite a bit of information.

They were holed up in Liam's parents' vacation house. The ground floor housed the coffee shop area, complete with a counter, an expensive coffee machine, and a few small round tables. Behind wooden sliding doors was a kitchen and a small living room. The second floor boasted two rooms and a bathroom, while the third floor had a spacious living area and another spare room. In addition, there was a basement stocked with food supplies like flour, sugar, and plenty of water, and above all this, there was access to the roof.

"So, let me get this straight," Louis said, leaning himself away against the wall. He purposely distanced himself from Harry; being near him seemed to stoke the flames of their relationship. "We have a kitchen, beds, lots of food and water, a roof, and a basement. But," he emphasised the last word, locking his gaze onto Liam, "you want us to leave."

Liam's expression remained unwaveringly serious. "Yes. We need to leave and find the nearest rally point. Do you understand?"

Louis appeared to be contemplating something, elongating the silence in the room. All eyes were on him, waiting for his response. And then...

"Nah." Louis tilted his head to the side, resting a hand on his hip and tilting his chin in a pensive manner. "I don't actually. Because here," he pointed to the floor beneath him, "we are safe. And out there," he gestured to the door, "we are not."

"We need to leave this house and join other survivors. We'll run out of supplies eventually," Liam interjected.

"But it doesn't make sense. We should stay here, at least until our supplies dies down. Then we can consider going out. But right now, it's neither logical nor rational to go out."

Another silence followed, Zayn's eyes flickering between Liam and Louis, while Harry kept his gaze lowered, preoccupied with something between his fingers. Liam turned to Harry, silently pleading for his support.

"Well," Harry began in a low, deep voice, "I think we should stay until Louis' foot is better."

The room fell silent, everyone's jaws dropping—including Zayn's.

"Are you saying that I'm right?" Louis quirked an eyebrow.

Harry rolled his eyes and got up. "How should we divide the rooms?"

Liam looked like he was on the brink of exasperation, but he eventually sighed and rose as well.

"Harry can take my parents' room. Louis, you can have the spare room. I'll sleep on the couch, and Zayn can use my room."

Louis snorted loudly, causing everyone to turn and look at him. He raised his hands with a feigned innocent smile, waving the handcuff still hanging from his wrist, holding the pipe in his palm. "If you can just, you know, let me out of that shit.’’

Harry raised an interested brow at him, assessing Louis up and down from his place on the chair. ‘’I don’t know. Liam what do you think?’’

Liam leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms on his chest, ‘’I quite like it like that.’’

Opening his mouth wide, Louis stared at the two men making fun of him, ready to bark a retort. But then, Zayn stood up from the chair and made his way toward him. With gentle care, he took his wrist and slid the key into the lock, opening them with a click. ‘’Here you go.’’

It was Liam’s turn to fish mouth, his eyebrows shooting up his hairline and his hands immediately shooting up to pat at his pockets.

As Zayn assisted Louis up the two flights of stairs, he grabbed Louis' backpack and supported Louis by the waist. Louis grumbled the entire way up, accusing Liam of intentionally giving him the room at the very top of the house. Gently, Zayn placed the bag on the bed, allowing Louis to survey the surroundings. The room was simple—a double bed, a closet, a desk, and a loveseat beside the window.

"You wanted the radio?" Liam's voice came from the doorway, his gaze fixed on Louis with a hint of challenge.

Liam took Louis to a living area on the third floor, right next to Louis' room, to demonstrate how to use the radio system. The room was cosy, even if the large window only offered a view on the grey sky and the chaos ahead. On a table in the corner of the room was the radio equipment, along with a small book containing various radio frequencies for different parts of the country.

"All right," Liam began, his tone patient. "This is how you use the radio. These buttons control the frequency, and these knobs adjust the volume and tuning. To communicate with different areas, you'll need to use the channels listed in this book." Liam handed Louis the book, open to a page that showed different channels for reaching various parts of the country.

Louis nodded, trying to take in the information. "And how do I know if someone's on the other end?"

"Once you find a channel and adjust the frequency, press this button to transmit your message. If someone is listening on that channel, they'll hear you and can respond." Liam demonstrated by pressing the button, his voice crackling through the headphones.

As Liam continued to explain, Louis began to fiddle with the radio equipment. After Liam was satisfied that Louis had a basic understanding, he left the room, allowing Louis some privacy to experiment. With Liam gone, Louis adjusted the knobs and buttons, his fingers trembling slightly as he tried to remember the instructions. He put on the headphones, pressing them against his ears. His leg bounced nervously as he bit his nails, his heart racing in his chest. Taking a deep breath, he pressed the transmit button.

"Um, hello? This is Louis. Can anyone hear me?" His voice came out slightly shaky as he released the button and waited for a response.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Harry and Liam were huddled in front of the map, trying to strategize their next move. They studied different points on the map, considering potential locations for finding more weapons or food if needed. They spoke in low tones, each suggestion met with contemplative nods or dismissive shakes of the head.

After about an hour of discussion, Harry decided it was a good time to take a shower while there was still water. He hoisted his backpack onto his shoulder and made his way up the stairs. However, as he reached the first floor, he caught a faint voice coming from upstairs. Curiosity got the best of him, and he quietly ascended the stairs, stopping a few steps down from the top to remain hidden from view.

Louis had his back to him, seated at a small desk with the radio equipment in front of him. He was cradling the headphones, his voice sounding wet and slightly sniffly. Harry strained to hear the conversation.

"I know mom... I know," Louis was saying, his voice carrying a mix of relief and emotion. Harry leaned in, trying to catch more of the conversation. "God, I'm so happy you're safe. Is everyone okay? How are the twins? How's Charlotte? And Fiz ? And the babies?"

Harry's eyes widened as he listened, realisation washing over him.

"I am okay. I am always okay," Louis said, his voice attempting to sound proud but laced with underlying vulnerability, his free hand sliding down his shin to hold onto his bandaged ankle. He seemed to be fighting back tears and sobs. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I'll be safe." Another sniffle, followed by a shaky exhale. "I love you, Mom. So much. Please be safe. I l-love you, tell the girls I love them."

At that moment, Harry slowly turned and retreated down the stairs. He walked back to his room quietly, his thoughts heavy with the weight of what he had overheard.

Waking up in a comfortable bed and without the chaos of the outside world felt like a dream to Louis. He shifted slightly, disturbed by the deep and continuous sound that seemed to surround him. He groaned, blinking his eyes open and squinting against the soft light filtering into the room. As he turned his head, something soft hit him, prompting another groan.

"Jesus, why on earth are you the first thing I am seeing?" Louis muttered, his voice thick with sleep.

Harry was leaning against the wall, facing the bed. His damp, unruly curls hung freely around his shoulders, and he wore a thin white shirt that clung slightly to his frame, the fabric damp at his collarbones from his wet hair. Louis barely spared a glance for Harry's appearance.

"Hello to you too," Harry responded, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "I'm on nursing duty. So get out of bed and show me your feet."

Louis didn't move, instead throwing his arm over his eyes and letting out a dramatic sigh. "Curly, if you had a foot fetish, there are much better ways to go about it."

Harry groaned with annoyance, his gaze fixed on Louis. "Just need to check on your wound."

With a heavy sigh, Louis finally swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his bare feet meeting the cool floor. He turned to face Harry, who had pushed away from the wall and was now standing beside the bed. Harry's expression was oddly gentle, his green eyes holding a mixture of concern and something else that Louis couldn't quite decipher. But as stubborn as he was, Louis pushed off the mattress and went to stand by himself, not wanting any help. However, the exhaustion mixed with his aching muscles from all the running, the fact that he was still half asleep, and the deep cut on his ankle made him curse loudly.

"Christ," Harry huffed, moving closer and grabbing Louis' elbow. "Let me help."

"I don't need your help," Louis retorted, pushing him away, but Harry's grip didn't falter. He glanced down at Louis' bandaged foot and saw blood tainting the white plaster.

"You're fucking kidding me," Harry muttered. In a swift and practised move, he slung one of Louis' arms behind his back, bent down, and hooked his hand behind Louis' knee, hoisting him up onto his shoulder. Louis found himself abruptly lifted off the ground, his face at eye level with Harry's ass clad in black cargo pants.

"What the fuck?" Louis exclaimed, flailing and trying to get out of Harry's hold. "Put me down! I'm not even fucking joking!" His protests were loud and impassioned, a mixture of surprise, annoyance, and a hint of embarrassment at his undignified position.

Despite Louis' fervent objections, Harry didn't seem the least bit bothered. He carried Louis effortlessly into the bathroom and deposited him onto the toilet seat, curls falling around his face as Louis levelled him with a dark stare, his hair completely dishevelled.

Harry leaned against the bathroom doorway, arms crossed over his chest. "You're a real pain, you know that?"

Louis shot him a glare, his blue eyes blazing with irritation. "Yeah, well, I'd rather be a pain than have to rely on you for every little thing."

"Oh, so you'd rather let your foot get infected and fall off just to prove a point?"

Louis scowled, his cheeks flushing with frustration. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

Harry rolled his eyes, his lips curling into a half-smile. "Clearly."

They stared at each other for a moment, the tension between them palpable. Louis' heart was pounding for more reasons than just his injured foot.

"Fine," Louis grumbled, breaking the staring contest. "Maybe I'll let you help, just this once."

Harry pushed himself off the doorway, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips. "That's the spirit."

As Harry knelt down in front of Louis, carefully unwrapping the bloodied bandage, Louis couldn't help but watch him. The way Harry's fingers moved with precision and care, the focused expression on his face, it was both infuriating and oddly endearing.

"You know," Louis mumbled, his voice softer now, "you could be a bit less smug about this."

Harry glanced up at him, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "And you could be a bit more grateful. But we can't all get what we want, can we?"

Louis scoffed, but the corner of his mouth twitched with a hint of a smile. "I mean, you’re the one on his knees. Not me.’’

He didn’t miss how his fingers faltered mid-air and how the top of his ear slowly got tainted in red. But Harry's grin slowly widened as he continued his task, turning into a smirk. ‘’You’re saying you wanted me on my knees?’’

Louis decided to stay silent at that, slapping himself on the face mentally at his slip up. And as Harry cleaned the wound and prepared to apply a new bandage, he found himself staring at him. He noticed the way Harry's damp curls framed his face, the curve of his lips as he concentrated on the task at hand, and the intensity in his green eyes as he worked. He was mesmerised by how gentle Harry was compared to how he looked. He was surprised that he could find such softness in someone that looked slightly, only slightly, imposing and confident. He tilted his head when Harry did so, observing him as he scrunched his nose upward.

Suddenly, while his head was still down, his eyes raised, meeting Louis' gaze. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade away. HIs green eyes held a depth of emotion that Louis couldn't quite decipher, but it left him feeling strangely vulnerable. Harry’s lips parted slightly, attracting attention on them for only a second.

"All right, try not to lean on it too much. If there's any change or if it starts to feel worse, let us know." Harry said so quickly, Louis almost didn’t catch on.

"Yeah, yeah I got it..’’

Harry rolled his eyes, but there was a fondness in his expression. "So, I suppose you can get down two flights of stairs by yourself then?’’

Louis watched as Harry turned and cleaned his room, a soft smile on his face. ‘’I can.’’ And to prove his point, he raised from his seat and put his feet on the ground with a bit of apprehension. And as he reached the door, he opened it and turned his face toward Harry before yelling.

‘’Zayn, come give me a hand!’’

Chapter 6: Cohabition

Chapter Text

It had taken a whole week for Louis' ankle to be approximately healed.

The claw marks were still visible as four prominent white scars on his skin but he could at least walk again. Staying cooped up in the townhouse while Liam and Harry ventured out for supplies and to assess the surroundings wasn't easy but it gave him time to rest.

Most of his days were spent with Zayn. Zayn's personality seemed to fluctuate, swinging between periods of calm and silence to moments of exuberance and humour. They often found themselves on the roof, sharing what little weed Zayn had managed to hold onto. They talked about their lives before the outbreak, sharing family memories and some of their deepest secrets. Louis learned that Zayn used to be a model and had left his hometown to pursue a more luxurious life in London, leaving behind an unsupportive family.

The mystery that continued to elude Louis was Liam and Harry. When they all gathered to eat or discuss strategies, Louis tried to pry into their pasts, their work, and even their family members, but the answers always remained vague, especially when it came to Harry. The basement of the townhouse, stocked with weapons and canned food, felt unsettling, as if Liam's family had been prepared for the apocalypse.

Liam's behaviour and background remained shrouded in mystery for Louis. He noticed that Liam kept his sexuality a secret, with Zayn even confiding in him to keep their "little date" a secret from Harry, which was puzzling considering their supposed friendship. Liam's need to take charge, plan meticulously, and organise every aspect of their survival seemed to hint at a past profession that required such skills. Each morning, Liam and Harry would rise early to exercise on the rooftop, emphasising the importance of maintaining a healthy body for a healthy mind. To Louis, it all felt like nonsense.

Harry, on the other hand, held his own mysteries. Louis had glimpsed a silver necklace with a cross pendant that Harry always wore, nestled between two tattoos on his chest. The tattoos appeared to hold great significance to him, as he never removed the necklace. Additionally, Louis had noticed two date tattoos beneath Harry's neck and two letter tattoos on his shoulders, likely representing family members or perhaps a girlfriend. It struck Louis as odd that Harry never spoke about any family or friends except for Liam.

His relationship with Harry was strained, if not deteriorating. Louis found perverse pleasure in provoking Liam at every opportunity, which in turn forced Harry to step in and defend him. This constant friction between them fueled Harry's unspoken annoyance. They seemed to be at each other's throats daily, arguing about trivial matters, and neither of them could go a day without exchanging harsh words or engaging in pointless fights. Louis would take pleasure constantly humming his favourite song and watched how Harry would clench his jaw and pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance each time. This tension left Liam and Zayn as silent spectators or prompted them to leave the room until the storm between Louis and Harry had passed.

Despite their constant bickering, it had become more of a habit than a genuine hatred they held for each other. Louis couldn't stand Harry's cold and calm demeanour, his meticulous speech, or his peculiar eating habits or even his perpetual frown, particularly during their arguments, compelled Louis to want to make it disappear.

Harry, in turn, was irritated by Louis's inability to take anything seriously, his boundless energy, and the fact that he was always so loud. They were polar opposites, destined to clash like fire meeting gasoline. Yet somehow, this constant friction kept them grounded. Living in a state of uncertainty, awaiting news or announcements through their phones or the radio, weighed on all of them, even when left unspoken. Going to sleep each night with the possibility that they might not wake up the next day gnawed at their sanity. In some inexplicable way, their dynamic worked, providing a semblance of normalcy and support in a world that had gone awry.

And this morning, Louis woke up with a nagging pain in his ankle, a reminder of the scars that still occasionally hurt him and might always stick with him from now on. Electric bolts of pain shot up to his knee, but he was skilled at hiding his discomfort and instead of complaining, he pushed himself out of bed and descended two flights of stairs in search of breakfast.

To his surprise, he found Harry standing in front of their makeshift stove. Louis, rubbing his unkempt hair, couldn't help but ask, "Um, why are you here?"

Harry snorted and let out a sigh. He turned halfway to Louis, holding a pan with two eggs sizzling on it. "Breakfast."

"That's not what I asked," Louis retorted.

Harry remained silent, expertly transferring the eggs onto two plates and adding toast and something else from a can that Louis couldn't quite see. "Liam took Zayn. Said he was complaining he was never going out."

Louis snorted and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure."

Without further explanation, Louis limped his way back to the living room. Liam and Harry had transformed the area that once held the coffee shop, arranging the tables into one large dining space where they could all eat together and occasionally lay out maps for planning. He tried to conceal his limp, hoping Harry was still focused on cooking. Two minutes later, Harry emerged with both plates, not handling Louis's too gently, which nearly made him gag instantly.

"Fucking hell, beans?" Louis complained.

Harry sat down, his curls bouncing with the movement, and took a big bite of his toast. With a sigh, he asked "What again?"

"I really fucking hate baked beans," Louis grumbled.

"You're just being picky," Harry remarked, raising an eyebrow at Louis.

Louis shot Harry an annoyed look. "I'm not being picky, I just have taste buds that actually work."

"They're beans, Tomlinson. Beans are a classic breakfast food."

Louis couldn't resist the opportunity to tease Harry further. "Well, maybe they should stay classic and not invade my plate, Styles."

"You know, not everything has to be a fight with you."

Louis leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, come on, Curly. It's what makes life interesting, our little arguments."

"Fine, fine. Have it your way." Harry shot back, forcefully taking Louis's plate and transferring all the beans to his own. He then shoved the plate back toward Louis. "Eat now."

Louis chuckled, finally taking a bite of his now bean-less breakfast. "See, compromise isn't that hard, is it?"

They continued eating in silence, a familiar routine they often fell into. However, Louis couldn't resist studying Harry's face and demeanour, trying to glean insight into the enigmatic man sitting across from him. He observed the small details, like the traces of blood around Harry's nails from picking at his skin or the occasional scrunch of his nose, which remained a mystery to Louis. Harry had this irritating habit of constantly running his fingers through his hair and furrowing his brows, appearing perpetually tense and closed off, as if he was holding back something, as if he had to.

Just as Louis was about to break the silence, Harry abruptly interrupted him, his tone sharp. "Shut up."

Offended, Louis exclaimed, "I haven't said anything yet!"

Harry sighed heavily and finally spared him a glance, his green eyes looking duller than usual, with hints of purple bags underneath. His skin appeared pale, dotted with the occasional pimple. Upon closer examination, Louis realised that Harry seemed profoundly tired, as though he were drained of energy and almost devoid of light. This observation caused Louis's shoulders to slump and his own nose to scrunch slightly in concern.

Louis chose the path of silence, deciding not to provoke a serious fight with Harry. As they both finished their breakfast, Louis collected their plates and quietly headed to the kitchen to wash them with the rainwater Liam had collected from the rooftop. Unbeknownst to him, Harry almost gave himself whiplash as he quickly turned around to watch Louis's retreating figure. His gaze lingered on him for a moment before he resumed whatever thoughts were occupying his mind.

In the afternoon, still waiting for Liam and Zayn to return, Louis remained stationed next to the radio that had now been taken downstairs. He endlessly turned the dials, speaking into the microphone and holding the headphones to his ears, desperately awaiting a response. It had been a week since and Louis had heard nothing about his family, not even a single word. His attempts to reach out to Oli and Luke, or anyone else for that matter, had been in vain. Their phones were essentially useless, just like the others in the group.

"Come on, please," Louis muttered to himself, repeatedly twisting the radio's knobs. Each time an interference or a different noise crackled through the speakers, he would tense with hope, nearly jumping out of his chair in anticipation. He couldn't gauge how much time had passed, but he remained there until his legs grew numb and his neck stiff from the hours of waiting and uncertainty.

As he continued his desperate attempts to make contact with the outside world, his frustration began to simmer just beneath the surface. The feeling of helplessness and isolation gnawed at him, and it didn't take long before his patience wore thin.

"Damn it, why isn't anyone responding?" Louis muttered, his voice tinged with irritation.

Harry, who had been silently brooding in a corner, snapped back at him. "You think shouting at the radio is going to magically make it work? That's really productive."

Louis spun around, his eyes flashing with anger. "Oh, you want to talk to me now? You're done moping?"

"You're just so loud it's very hard to ignore," Harry retorted, halting his brooding to lock eyes with Louis.

Louis abandoned all pretence of keeping his composure. He stood up from his chair, leaving everything in disarray behind him, and closed the distance between them. Harry mirrored his actions, stepping forward to confront him.

"It seems like I'm fresh out of fucks to give," Louis replied darkly, their faces mere inches apart. The tension was palpable as they breathed into each other's personal space. ‘’This house is fucking big enough for you to not be here.’’

"You literally have the maturity of a fourteen-year-old," Harry shot back.

"And you have the face hair of one," Louis retorted, the fight devoid of reason, existing purely to get under each other's skin.

Just when it seemed like their argument might escalate into something more serious, the front door of the townhouse swung open, revealing Zayn and Liam, both carrying bags filled with what appeared to be new clothes.

Zayn raised an eyebrow at the scene before them, his voice calm amidst the chaos. "Did we miss something interesting?"

The interruption was enough to bring Louis and Harry back to reality. They exchanged frustrated glares before retreating into a sullen silence. Liam and Zayn took this opportunity to unload their bags and reveal the fresh clothing they had found.

"Found a stash of clothes in a nearby store," Liam explained, attempting to change the subject. "Thought we could all use some clean outfits."

As they began to sort through the new clothes, the tension in the room slowly dissipated. Zayn immediately started recounting his adventures outside, proud and happy to narrate how he had killed one infected and how Liam had taken down three. Meanwhile, Harry had quietly left the room, disappearing upstairs.

Louis watched Harry's retreating figure with a mixture of frustration and concern. Despite their constant bickering, there was an underlying unease within Louis, a feeling that there was something more to Harry than met the eye, something he couldn't quite grasp.

Zayn, usually quiet but keenly observant, recognised the tension within their group.

He understood that their unity and loyalty were crucial if they were to venture outside the shelter to find other survivors or a new camp. The strained relationships between him and Liam and Harry and Louis were concerning, as they could pose a danger once they left the safety of the shelter. Determined to address this, Zayn took it upon himself to prepare a special dinner, despite the challenges of limited resources. After searching the basement for ingredients, he managed to put together a modest yet heartfelt meal—mac and cheese, a simple vegetable salad, and reheated scones from Liam's mother's freezer. He also found an old dusty bottle of wine, which he brought to the rooftop. Setting up a makeshift dining area with pillows and a cloth, he arranged the food and drinks, hoping to create a moment of connection.

Calling the others was relatively easy since Zayn wasn't usually the first to initiate conversation. Liam and Louis quickly joined him on the rooftop. However, coaxing Harry out of his room on the second floor took more effort. As they began to eat, engaging in small talk, Harry remained silent, gazing into the distance as the sun slowly set on the horizon. Louis noticed that Harry hadn't touched his pasta but had devoured his scone. Without a word, Louis discreetly switched their plates, putting his own pasta in front of him and placing Harry's scone within reach. He felt Harry's gaze on him but kept his focus ahead, nodding along to everything Zayn was saying as if he had suddenly grasped something profound.

Once dinner was over, they settled against the wall, watching the sun disappear completely. Zayn lit a joint, taking a drag and passing it to Louis. They enjoyed a moment of silence, appreciating the cool night breeze and the temporary sense of calm.

From their vantage point on the rooftop, it was almost possible to forget the chaos below—the cars, shattered glass, blood-soaked sidewalks, and deserted shops. It felt like they were back in a world untouched by disaster.

"You know," Zayn began, exhaling a plume of smoke, "I used to hate Bradford when I was a kid, and now… I miss it more than I thought I would."

Louis nodded in understanding. "I can relate. I always thought London was just the place to be, that if I was not there, I was missing out…’’ He sighed, grabbing the joint from Zayn and taking a drag and tilting his head to exhale. ‘’I used to feel like life was boring and … you know, just an obligation. Waking up, working, going home, sleeping and up again. I was not really happy with it but it seemed like it was made to be like that. And now, everything is falling apart and I feel like I have so much things to see, to live, to love.’’

"It’s not too late to be alive." Liam said softly, his gaze still fixed on the horizon. "If all this," he said, waving his hand toward the sky, ‘’Is the end for us, then we should just make the most of it.’’

Harry, who had been quiet for most of the evening, finally spoke up, while fidgeting with his cross pendant. "But, what if this is the end?" he said, his words a mix of uncertainty and honesty.

Liam's voice broke the silence as he asked, "What are you talking about?"

Harry's gaze remained fixed, and he continued, "We keep running to survive, but for how long? Is there even a destination anymore?" His words hung heavy in the air, challenging them to confront the uncertainty of their situation and the seemingly endless cycle of survival.

Louis felt the same inner turmoil but had never allowed himself to voice these concerns, fearing the darkness that could engulf his mind. The glimmer of hope seemed to fade with Harry's words, which resonated with their shared apprehensions. The thought of an endless cycle of running, hiding, and living in fear weighed heavily on Louis. What scared him the most was the possibility of never reuniting with his family, of losing that last thread of hope. He observed Harry, who absentmindedly traced the contours of his silver cross necklace, and Louis found himself doing the same with his silver ring, a silent testament to their shared anxiety.

"You know," Zayn began, his voice carrying a touch of warmth, "it's natural to have these doubts, especially in times like these. But we've come this far, and we're still here. That means something. It means we're survivors, and we've got something special within us, something that keeps us going."

Zayn's gaze shifted between Louis and Harry, his eyes filled with empathy. "And maybe, just maybe, there's a reason for us to keep moving forward. We don't know what's waiting for us out there, but we have each other. We can lean on one another, support one another, and find strength in our unity." He took another drag from the joint, the ember glowing softly in the darkness. "Our families and friends might be out there, hoping and waiting just like we are. And as long as there's hope, a chance, we owe it to ourselves and to them to keep going. We've got this far and I believe we can keep going, one step at a time."

Zayn's words hung in the air, a beacon of hope amidst the uncertainty. The rooftop, once filled with doubt, now carried a sense of determination and solidarity.

Louis and Harry exchanged a knowing glance, their silver symbols glinting in the dim light, as they held on to the belief that together, they could face whatever the future had in store.

Chapter 7: Bridges

Summary:

Important : half a year later.

Chapter Text

They had initially believed it would be a matter of days, a straightforward journey from Stratford to Soho, where they were supposed to find safety in a massive survivor camp, awaiting rescue by the army to a secure zone. The principle was simple: the more people, the safer they'd be.

Yet, they hadn't foreseen the complete abandonment of checkpoints and borders by the army. Chaos had erupted, ruthless raiders seizing the opportunity to establish their own rule, blaming the government for its failure to protect the people. Towns were slowly torn apart, and anarchy reigned. Raiders hunted down those unwilling to join them, casting the country into further disarray. Some regions were plunged into darkness, devoid of electricity and water, making the outside world even more perilous.

What followed was beyond their worst nightmares.

To halt the spread of the infection, which had become overwhelming for the government to contain, they'd obliterated all the bridges and sealed off checkpoints with massive metal doors and barbed wire. The people were left to fend for themselves, forgotten by the army that was supposed to rescue them.They had watched from the rooftop as the bridges were systematically destroyed by army-installed bombs. From their sanctuary, they remained silent, gazing at the rising smoke, the thunderous echoes of destruction chilling them to the core. Each of them thought about their loved ones, friends, and the uncertainty that hung over them all.

This was why they had been trapped in Stratford for six long months.

As days turned into weeks and weeks into months, they clung to the tiniest shreds of hope like a lifeline. Their attempts to communicate with their families had grown increasingly disheartening. The radio, running on dwindling frequencies, provided only sporadic contact with the outside world.

Their bond had become their sanctuary, their anchor in a world unravelling with each passing day. The friendship that had initially been forced upon them was now the only thing keeping them from succumbing to the relentless fear and irrationality that threatened to consume them.

In their new reality, it was all too easy to descend into despair, to let the shadows of their minds overtake them. They rarely discussed it openly, the unspeakable horrors and creeping dread, but they didn't need to. It was etched on their faces, in their numbness to the constant backdrop of screams and gunshots. Fear of death had evolved into grim acceptance, a resolve to survive, even in the face of the inevitable.

After six months of chaos and the apocalyptic nightmare that had descended upon London, the once-thriving metropolis had been transformed into a haunting and desolate landscape. The city bore the scars of unrelenting strife, a grim testament to destruction and decay. London had shifted from a bustling, cosmopolitan hub into a grim and unforgiving territory where each day was a battle for survival. The pandemic's scars, the chaos, and the desperate struggle for resources were etched deep into the very fabric of the city, serving as a stark reminder of the world they had lost.

The infected had evolved and their transformation added a terrifying layer of complexity to the survivors' already dire circumstances. The once mindless and slow-moving creatures had adapted to the new world in horrifying ways. Some of the infected had become incredibly swift, almost matching the speed of survivors. They could sprint and run with alarming agility, making them even more dangerous in close encounters. Another group of infected had grown smarter. They learned to hide in dark corners, waiting patiently for unsuspecting survivors to pass by before ambushing them. This heightened cunning made them especially deadly adversaries. A particularly nightmarish subset of infected had developed increased physical strength. They grew taller and larger than the average infected, making them formidable opponents. Overpowering them became an even greater challenge for the survivors.

Survival had carved its mark on them, leaving behind scars that were not visible but ran deep within their souls. Nightmares, flashbacks, and haunting memories were etched into the very core of their beings, like scars that refused to fade. Their only sanctuary lay in each other, in the silent moments of shared suffering, and the unspoken understanding that they were not alone in this world gone mad. They clung to one another like a lifeline, finding a fragile sense of sanity amidst the relentless chaos.

In those six months, they had transformed in more ways than one.

Louis, once known for his tidy Peaky Blinders-style haircut, had now grown out into a tangled mass of caramel strands that brushed against his neck, earning him playful comparisons to a hedgehog from the others. His beard had taken on a rugged and untamed appearance, shaving now being a monthly occurrence at best. His smooth skin had given way to a weathered texture, a testament to the harsh realities of their new life. Most strikingly, his body had undergone a remarkable transformation, developing muscles he had never imagined having. Fear had been replaced by practicality as he honed his survival skills and agility.

Zayn's transformation was equally notable. His once-svelte frame had been replaced by a more muscular physique, though he remained thinner than the others. The impeccable style he had once been known for had been replaced by leather jackets and thick jeans, reflecting his adaptation to their new world. He had also opened up a bit more, engaging in conversations and even cracking jokes. Eager to learn how to fight and use various weapons, he had formed a close friendship with Louis, and the two often found solace on the coffee shop's roof, where they shared their darkest memories and cherished secrets.

Liam's appearance had seen relatively minor changes, except for his now long, curly hair. His dedication to physical fitness had taken on an obsessive quality, with daily workouts maintaining his muscles in peak condition. His stern and strict demeanour persisted, and while his relationship with Zayn appeared to have evolved, Harry seemed oblivious to these shifts.

Harry, on the other hand, had undergone a dramatic transformation. His hair had grown past his shoulders, framing a face that exuded confidence and strength. He had become even more muscular and imposing, with broad shoulders and a sharp jawline. His skills in hand-to-hand combat had evolved, and he had mastered various techniques for eliminating enemies without the need for weapons.

It was indeed astonishing how survival could reshape not only their bodies but also their spirits. As they faced the relentless challenges of their new reality, the bonds between them grew stronger, forged in the crucible of adversity, reminding them that they were survivors, resilient and unyielding in the face of an unforgiving world.

However, amidst all these changes, two things remained constant: the little crease between Harry's brows and the ceaseless bickering between him and Louis. While some days allowed for civil conversations and cooperation, most days were marked by the two of them inhabiting their own world, pushing each other's buttons until one of them exploded. They had indeed engaged in physical fights a few times, the reasons often appearing meaningless and forgotten in the heat of the moment. Yet, neither of them could seem to stay away from each other for long. More than a few hours without interaction felt unusual and unsettling, even if they would never admit to any deeper reasons for their behaviour.

Ultimately, their conflicts gave way to seamless cooperation. Louis was impulsive and loud, while Harry remained calm and calculated. Louis preferred knives and stealth, while Harry relied on his fists and firearms. When Louis entertained reckless ideas of charging headlong into danger, Harry was there to cover his back. When Harry plunged into a horde of infected, Louis did his utmost to divert and distract them. They formed an unconventional but incredibly effective duo, their synergy evident in their ability to overcome challenges together.

Whenever the four of them needed to split up for supply runs or confront infected or raiders, it was always Louis and Harry who paired together, just as they had from the beginning. Their dynamic might have been characterised by bickering and clashing personalities, but there was no denying that they were an unstoppable and formidable team.

Louis had desperately clung to any traces of his family, as did Zayn and Liam. Their determination to reunite with their loved ones fuelled their relentless quest for survival. Yet, Harry remained an enigma, never approaching the radio and never revealing anything about his life before the apocalypse. His past was a locked vault, hidden behind a stoic exterior that only deepened the mystery of who he truly was.

Except for one day.

As Liam and Zayn were busy exercising on the rooftop, Louis was still fumbling with the radio upstairs. He had diligently kept the little notebook Liam had shown him on the very first day, and now its pages were filled with his own writings. Some numbers were where he knew someone would answer, and some frequencies were where they could sometimes listen to news or government broadcasts. And on that day, after spending an hour and a half sitting there, he heard something.

"Hello?" he said suddenly, jumping a bit in his chair and clinging to the headphones against his ear. He was sure that there was the faint sound of a voice trying to pierce through the interference. With extra caution, he turned the big round button a tiny bit to the left. "Hello? Can someone hear me?"

There were a few sounds coming through, some louder than others, making him flinch, but he was determined. And then, "He---lo? So--- one?"

He cursed under his breath, the signal cutting the person's voice, making it impossible to understand. With a more confident but risky gesture, he turned the button back to the right. "Hello?" he asked again.

"Hello, can you hear me? Hi?" a feminine voice came through the headphones, and he almost screamed in joy. He fumbled with the pen, holding the headphones against his ear with his shoulder and quickly wrote down the numbers of the channel he was tuned to.

"Hi, yes, yes, I can hear you," Louis replied. But then, he didn't really know what to say. Every time he would contact a survivor, the question would be the same; everyone was searching for their family or friends, and when they were not, the disappointment was always hard to bear. "Are you... um, are you okay?"

"Yes," there was another interference, but the voice kept going, "I'm, oh god, I'm looking for my little brother?"

Louis frowned, immediately thinking that it could be Liam, as she mentioned having two older sisters. But the accent was not quite right. "Oh, um, yes? Do you have a name?"

A tiny buzzing sound was annoying in the background, but still, the voice was clear. "Harry. Harry Styles? Do you know him? Did you see him?"

Unconsciously, Louis felt his heart skip a beat when he heard the name. He felt his fingers go numb from a mix of excitement and jealousy, for he still hadn't heard from his sisters again. But he needed to be sure; there could be a hundred Harrys, especially in England.

"Um," he chuckled awkwardly, "Tall and curly? Green eyes and scary?"

He heard a muffled sob, and suddenly, the voice was louder and closer. "Yes, oh my god, yes, it's my Hazza. Please, is he there? Is he okay? Can I talk to him?"

His mouth suddenly fell open, blinking into nothing. He swallowed, nodding even though the person was not able to see him. He felt strangely relieved to know that Harry had someone, someone waiting and searching for him. But at the same time, he felt angry that Harry never said anything while they all had shared a bit of their lives.

"What's your name, darling?"

"Gemma," she sniffed and gave a wet laugh, "Gemma Styles."

"Okay, wait here, don't move."

Louis left the small table and ran down the stairs as quickly as he could, not caring for his still-sensitive ankle and all but bursting into Harry's room, almost ripping the door under his body. Harry was apparently in the middle of doing ab exercises, half lying on his back, sweaty and shirtless, but when he heard Louis, his face hardened.

"What the hell? Can't you fucking kno-''

"I found your sister," he blurted out to him, still panting and his hair tickling his nose.

He watched as Harry's jaw slowly unclenched and his demeanour changed, his shoulders falling down, and his breath starting to pick up, wide green and glassy eyes staring at him. He seemed in shock, like he was frozen, so Louis kept going.

"The radio, upstairs. She's on the line. Um... Gemma?" He said with a thumb pointing behind him, and suddenly, Harry was up.

He ran past him, almost knocking him with his shoulder, and went all the way up to the stairs, with Louis running behind him. He only stopped at the top of the stairs while he pondered if it would be better for him not to listen to this conversation. But at the same time, curiosity got the best of him.

"Gemma?! Is that you?"

He couldn't hear anything from the other side of the line, but by the way Harry's body all but melted into the chair, how the big sigh left his lungs, and how his fingers untightened on the phone, he seemed happy and relieved. From his position on the stairs, Louis tilted his head and observed how Harry was smiling, with those two front teeth peeking out and those dimples he had never seen before. Harry appeared much younger and more fragile than ever before. But then, Louis’ face muted with a grimace of pain when he saw a single tear running down his cheek.

"I'm alright, I'm... safe. Yeah, yeah... I do... I have... With some friends of mine, yeah... It's okay, we don't need to talk about this... I did what I had to do... I love you. Please, yeah. Me too. Bye."

And then, he put the headphones down.

Louis felt slightly stupid to still be there, perched on the stairs and creepily watching him, but the atmosphere felt so heavy with emotions that it was hard to move. Anytime one of them would approach the radio, they would all end up with runny noses or saddened faces, but Harry never even tried to use it, like he thought no one was waiting or searching for him. And now, seeing him bring two palms to his face and tilt his head back, his stomach clenching obviously from the sob he was trying to hold in, made Louis feel sick.

And that's when Harry suddenly got up, like he wanted to run back to his room maybe. When their eyes met, Louis thought that maybe he would be punched or yelled at for listening in on him. But Harry said nothing, his mouth opening and closing and his fist clenching at his worn-out joggers.

‘’Do–" Louis said, licking his dry lips and looking everywhere but at him. "Do you want to talk about it ?"

Harry was fidgeting with his fingers and his feet were turned inward. Even with his face pointing down, Louis could see how his chin was trembling with unshed tears.

‘’Is she safe ?’’ Louis timidly asked, his voice soft and slightly wavering too.

Harry took his bottom lip between his teeth, his nose scrunching up as he sniffled audibly and nodded his head, glossy green eyes rising up to finally look at Louis.

And maybe it was the way his green eyes were shining from all those unshed tears, or maybe because he looked awfully ridiculous with his bare chest and too-big joggers on, or maybe because the way he kept scrunching his nose, but Louis simply crossed the distance and pulled him into a hug. He got his face squished, literally, between Harry's collar and jaw, and his waist squished from how hard Harry was holding him back, with two long arms wrapped completely around him, but he let him. He needed it, they both did.

"Did you just tell her I was your friend?" Louis asked, trying to relax the atmosphere and still using a soft voice.

"Shut up," Harry replied wetly, but there was no venom at all behind it.

“Okay,’’ Louis answered, ‘’Hazza.” He teased.

For half a year, their existence had been centred around the coffee shop and its immediate vicinity.

Their foremost objective had been to clear the streets of infected, gradually rendering the area safe enough for exploration. Day by day, they expanded their boundaries, scouring for supplies, weapons, and clothing to bolster their chances of survival. They had meticulously combed through the southern part of their territory, yet the yearning to break free from their confinement had grown insufferable.Remaining static, even within the confines of safety, had felt like an unending nightmare. The repetitiveness of their lives had become stifling, and the desire for change, for fresh air and different surroundings, had become an irresistible urge, even in the midst of turmoil.

Today, after months of preparation and resource gathering, they had reached a decision. The four of them had deliberated and planned this day meticulously, fully aware of the risks. The allure of the unknown and the promise of freedom had proven too potent to resist. Today marked their attempt to break away from the confines of their shelter and step into the uncharted territory beyond, a day filled with both hope and uncertainty.

Their plan was as clear as it was critical for their survival. They would drive past a vacant checkpoint, evaluating the area for potential threats. Depending on the number of infected and the presence or absence of raiders to the north, they would strategize their next steps to push further into the city. It was a risky endeavour, for the world outside of Stratford remained largely unknown, a place where danger lurked behind every corner.

They spent an entire weekend planning for it, with the four of them gathered around a table covered in maps marked with coloured symbols representing safety levels. Green for safe, orange for mildly dangerous, and red for unexplored areas. Excitement had coursed through them as they planned and marked their path, with Louis finding a strange sense of empowerment in the idea of exploring a new zone. This new life had brought unexpected joys and interests, and the prospect of uncovering new safe points and, perhaps, a way to reunite with his family.

Unable to sleep, Louis was the first one up that morning. He ascended the stairs leading to the rooftop, pushing open the heavy metal door and lighting a cigarette. He watched as the sun struggled to pierce through heavy grey clouds, casting a sombre pall over the city. Below, he could see the remnants of car skeletons, shattered windows, and discarded debris littering the ground. Winter was approaching, adding a grim layer to the already unsettling atmosphere.

His thoughts wandered to his friends, Oli, Stan and Luke, their faces fading in his memory as the signals on their phones had long disappeared. He tried to avoid looking at pictures of his family, the guilt of being away from them and taking their presence for granted was too painful to bear.

With a sigh, Louis flicked his cigarette to the ground and pulled his hood over his head. He turned away from the darkening sky and began his descent down the stairs, a sense of purpose and readiness settling over him.

"Morning," Liam's voice broke through the morning stillness from what used to be the coffee shop's kitchen. He was attempting to cook some canned bacon on a portable gas stove, simultaneously preparing some eggs.

Louis didn't offer a verbal response, merely passing behind Liam on his way to the long wooden counter that had become their supplies and ammunition storage area. He laid his backpack open in front of him, methodically gathering everything he would need for the upcoming journey. According to their plan, devised with meticulous precision by Liam, they should be able to find another shelter easily, and so, taking too much with them would be a penalty. But in this unpredictable world, nothing was guaranteed.

As Louis's hand hovered over a small gun, a plate appeared beside him. He hesitated for a moment, his hands hovering over his weapons, before realising that Liam wanted to have a serious conversation. He internally rolled his eyes, still frustrated by how he was often treated as the most reckless and irresponsible member of their group, someone who needed constant warnings and lectures when facing danger.

"Listen," Liam began, taking a bite of his hard toast. "I know I haven't been the kindest to you before. But we already made it clear that you and Zayn should stay away from guns, until you learn how to u-"

Louis slammed his flashlight down on the counter, the loud thud making Liam jump slightly in his stool, his brown eyes widening in surprise as he stared at Louis. Blue eyes met brown, and Louis let out a heavy sigh. "Listen," he said, using the same tone Liam had used on him. "I could even go there by myself, and I'd do just fine. If you want to be nice with me, you could just start to simply trust me."

With that, Louis shoved his jack-knife into the back of his pants, right under his waistband, slung his backpack over one shoulder, and took his plate. He left the room and headed toward the garage, leaving behind a fuming Liam.

"Did you see a ghost?" Harry's voice drifted down from the stairs, his hair tousled and wild, framing his bare shoulders.

Liam shook his head, still fixated on where Louis had vanished. "How do you deal with him?"

"What?" Harry asked, padding toward the kitchen, a piece of bread in his mouth that he chewed on loudly. He held a small bottle of water in his free hand.

"Louis."

"Oh." Harry took the place where Louis had been, gazing down at his empty backpack with an expression of annoyance at the thought of packing. He lazily retrieved his backpack from the ground, stuffing items into it while continuing to eat. "Ignore him; it's fine."

"No, but..." Liam waved his hand in a circular motion, struggling to find the right words. "He is..."

"Annoying? Infuriating? Provocative? Rude? Impolite? I have a whole list of words if you need them."

Liam let out a frustrated chuckle, recognizing that Harry wasn't going to be very helpful in this conversation. "Alright, alright, you've made your point."

Harry grinned, taking another bite of his bread. "Sometimes, you just have to let him do his thing."

Liam nodded, begrudgingly accepting Harry's wisdom. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

Harry finished his bread and tossed the wrapper into a nearby trash can. He then walked over to Liam and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

Liam shook his head, "It's been half a year, and I'm still not used to it."

Leaving the house behind was harder than any of them had expected. After spending so much time there, it felt like leaving behind a small haven in the midst of chaos. They had to pack their belongings carefully, selecting each item with thoughtfulness, knowing that even though they had the car for now, it might not be a permanent solution. For Liam, it was particularly difficult. Walking away from his childhood memories weighed heavily on his heart. With a last sorrowful look towards what remained of the coffee shop, he let Zayn and Harry head to the garage and lingered a few more minutes to gaze at what used to be his family home. He sighed, taking one last glance at the old fireplace and the family portrait before finally closing the door and joining the others.

"You're not driving," Harry's voice came, firm and resolute, maintaining his usual low tone.

Louis didn't respond, simply leaning down to turn the key in the ignition.

Liam and Zayn exchanged a glance, a mixture of amusement and annoyance in their expressions. Once everyone's bags were carefully stowed in the trunk, Liam and Zayn helped them open the heavy metallic garage door, and Harry reluctantly slid into the passenger seat with a grimace. Louis pulled the car out of the small garage, waiting for Liam and Zayn to settle in the back before driving away from the street and then the town.

Chapter 8: Hackney

Chapter Text

The first half-hour of their drive had been eerily simple, with Harry avoiding eye contact and staring out the window for most of it, while only Zayn, Louis, and Liam engaged in small talk to pass the time. The part of town they were in had been largely cleared of infected and survivors, thanks to their previous efforts, and they knew the specific route to take to avoid attracting the attention of the remaining infected. So they easily left Stratford, accompanied by a small sigh from Liam, Zayn secretly squeezing his knee.

Driving along the highway was impossible, as half of it had been destroyed, so they had to take rocky roads and slightly messy paths. The streets they now navigated were filled with crashed cars, abandoned suitcases, graffiti-covered walls, and shattered storefronts. No one was in sight, but they all knew that the absence of visible threats didn't mean there were none lurking. Harry stayed quiet, his eyes scanning every detail, his hand ready to draw his gun from the holster on his back.

"Calm down, Curly," Louis said, trying to ease the tension.

However, as they passed what used to be the checkpoint next to Victoria Park, which would lead them into Hackney, Liam and Zayn had to get out of the car to clear away dumpsters, trash, and makeshift barricades left by the army. Harry and Louis watched as Liam helped Zayn up a wall, allowing him to slide down the other side and open the huge metal door that was blocking their way.

With the door now open, Louis slowly drove through it and waited until Liam and Zayn would join them back in. The narrow street where a distant fire burned around an abandoned car, suggesting recent human activity in the area, made him frown. He slowed the car, leaning forward, and Harry did the same, peering at the distant car.

"Should we g—"

"Louis!" Harry's shout cut through the air, but it was too late. A massive red brick struck the car, crashing through the windshield and landing in the backseat. For a few tense seconds, both of them remained in shock before Louis slammed his foot on the gas pedal, determined to steer the car away from danger.

"Fuck," Louis muttered, taking sharp turns and trying to distance the car from the unknown assailants. But then, a powerful, silent gunshot echoed, and the car veered to the left. The tire had been hit. He tried his best to keep the car going straight, but the debris and trash on the road made it hard for him, and suddenly, he lost control.

The car crashed violently inside a shop, causing them both to be propelled against the windshield. For a few moments, Harry lay dazed and disoriented, his neck and leg throbbing with pain. He eventually regained his senses and turned to check on Louis, who had been facedown against the steering wheel.

"Louis?" Harry called, hastily unbuckling his seatbelt and assisting Louis out of his. He propped Louis up in an upright position to examine his face. "Hey?"

"Fucking hell," Louis groaned, blood trickling from a gash on his forehead down to his chin. He let his head loll to the side, raising his gaze toward Harry, his blue eyes squinting and scanning Harry's face as if searching for injuries. "You okay?"

Harry was about to respond when he heard a rustling sound from outside. "Fuck, wait," he muttered, turning to his backpack and frantically searching for bandages or compresses to tend to Louis's injuries.

"Harry," Louis said urgently, his voice shaky and strained. He straightened up in his seat and reached for his back, but Harry was too engrossed in his task to notice. "Harry!" Louis screamed, this time more forcefully.

Startled, Harry lifted his head, only to realise that Louis's car door had been flung open, and two large hands were now grabbing Louis around the waist, dragging him violently from his seat and out of the car.

"LOUIS!" Harry screamed, pushing his backpack aside and turning around to exit the car.

However, a powerful punch to his face sent him reeling, groaning and moaning in pain. But even as his vision swam, the sound of Louis in pain drove him forward. He kicked the assailant hard in the stomach and managed to escape the car, pummelling the man with a series of blows before grabbing him by the collar and headbutting him in the nose.

Turning, he froze.

There, he saw Louis, struggling to breathe as he was held in a chokehold. The person behind him, even if blocked by Louis' body, felt all too familiar, and when he heard the voice, a full-body shiver and the feeling of wanting to gag came to him. He watched as, without a second thought, Louis bit down hard on his assailant's forearm, causing him to release his grip with a yelp. Louis was freed but then punched hard in the jaw, causing him to stumble and fall.

"You fucking son of a bitch!" Harry roared, surging forward with clenched jaws and pure rage, blood boiling beneath his skin.

As the man made a move to grab Louis again, seemingly oblivious to Harry's presence, Harry lunged at him, landing a devastating kick to the man's head with his heavy boot, sending him flying away. He grabbed a nearby wooden plank and attacked the man with a frenzy. He struck him once, but his blinding rage led him to get punched hard in the ribs, causing him to double over in pain. The assailant took advantage of the situation, seizing Harry by the hair and smashing his head into a window.

Pain seared through Harry's face, the skin breaking at some places, as he used every ounce of his strength to prevent his head from crashing into the shards of glass, propping his hands against the frame. He screamed with exhaustion, using all his might to resist the force pushing his face down toward the jagged debris. Summoning his last reserves of strength, Harry released one hand from the frame and threw an elbow at his assailant. The man screamed in pain and stumbled backward, allowing Harry to grab a shard of glass. He spun around and thrust the glass into the man's eyes, pushing as deeply as he could. An inhuman scream erupted from the man's throat as he fell to the ground.

Harry turned and ran to Louis, who was on all fours, struggling to breathe. He helped him up and turned him around, carefully examining his face for injuries. But behind them, more screams and voices grew closer, accompanied by the screeching of tires and the thud of boots on the floor.

"They're still inside!"

"Check everywhere!"

Harry grabbed Louis with one hand, heading back toward the car to retrieve their backpacks before leading Louis further into the abandoned shop, leaving the car behind. They crouched and navigated the debris-strewn floor carefully, the voices drawing nearer.

"Spread out and find them."

"They can't have gone far."

"Fuck, they got Simon."

As they reached the back of the shop, Harry located a door and signalled for Louis to stop moving. A man was standing with his back to them, looking at the distant, perhaps waiting for them. Using one hand to signal Louis to be quiet, he started crouching his way out of the shop, sliding through an open door into a building. Hiding behind a wall, he waited for Louis to join him before they started to make their way toward the stairs. They only stopped at the last floor of the place, seemingly an old apartment complex. He checked for the first flat he found and quickly ushered Louis inside the room when the coast was clear.

Once in the relative safety of the four walls, Harry spun Louis around, pushing him against the closed door and immediately raising his chin to inspect his throat, wincing at the fingerprints left behind. When he looked up, their proximity left him momentarily speechless causing his hand to freeze and his fingers to linger on Louis’ Adam apple. Their breaths synchronised, the world around them fading away as they stood in the dimly lit room, locked in each other's gaze. Harry's heart raced, his chest heaving with emotions he couldn't put into words.

Louis's thumb brushed gently under Harry’s eyes and on his cheekbones, before he picked at a small bit of glass that had pierced his skin. Harry winced only slightly, the shivers down his spine more evident than the pain on his face. The heat between them was undeniable, their bodies inches apart, a magnetic pull drawing them closer.

For a moment, Harry felt himself leaning in, unable to resist the force that drew him to Louis. He could almost taste the anticipation, the desire that hung in the air between them. But just as their lips were about to touch, he abruptly pulled away, his rational mind taking over. Clearing his throat, Harry took a step back and tried to regain his composure. He couldn't afford to lose focus now, not when their lives were at stake. He motioned for Louis to sit on a nearby coffee table, needing some distance to collect his thoughts.

Louis complied, his expression a mix of confusion and longing. He watched as Harry retrieved a first aid kit from his backpack and began tending to the minor injuries on Louis's face. It was a way to redirect his attention, to ground himself in the task at hand.

"What about Zayn and Liam?" Louis asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes closed as Harry worked on his wounds.

Harry's hands were steady as he applied antiseptic and bandages. "I heard gunshots," he replied softly. "I know it was Liam. He was helping us. They're not far."

Louis immediately pulled his face away, a hint of worry in his eyes. "You heard gunshots? How can you know it's him by the sound of the gun?"

Harry hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to explain. "I've been around guns enough to recognize the sound of Liam's. He's got a distinctive way of firing. It's hard to explain."

Louis seemed to accept the answer, though he still appeared sceptical. Before he could say anything else, the sound of footsteps approaching the building made them both tense. They had to move quickly and silently to evade their pursuers.

Harry motioned for Louis to follow him, and they continued their stealthy journey through the abandoned apartment complex. Their only goal was to find safety, regroup with Liam and Zayn, and figure out their next move.

They navigated the maze of hallways and stairwells, their footsteps as soft as whispers, their hearts pounding in their chests. The voices of the raiders grew louder, and it was clear that they were systematically searching each room. Harry and Louis moved swiftly, finding an open door to a small, dark apartment and slipping inside. The voices outside continued to draw closer, and the tension in the room was palpable. Harry glanced at Louis, his eyes conveying a mixture of fear and determination.

"We can't stay here," Louis whispered, his voice barely audible.

Harry nodded in agreement. "They're armed."

Louis reached into his backpack and retrieved his jackknife, gripping it tightly. Harry checked his own backpack, making sure he had his gun and a few spare rounds. They were as prepared as they could be, given the circumstances. With slow and deliberate movements, they edged toward the apartment's window. Harry carefully peeked outside, scanning the area for any sign of the raiders. The coast appeared to be clear for the moment, but they couldn't afford to be complacent.

"We'll have to climb up," Harry whispered, gesturing to the fire escape just outside the window. "I'll go first, and you follow me."

Louis nodded, his expression determined. They had faced danger together before, and they knew they could rely on each other to get through this. Harry carefully ascended the ladder, his muscles tense and his senses on high alert. Louis waited until he couldn’t see him anymore, checking behind him before he followed him, moving as silently as a shadow. The air was tense with anticipation, and they could hear faint voices echoing from a distance. As they reached the rooftop, Harry let Louis through the heavy door and closed it behind them. Louis was quick to push a heavy bench that was forgotten here against the door, effectively blocking it from the outside.

They were greeted by the cool afternoon air and a view of the city below. The cityscape was a stark reminder of the chaos and danger that surrounded them. They crouched low, hidden behind a small structure that housed some mechanical equipment. There, they allowed themselves to stop their movements and simply relax their tense bodies. Their breaths came out in soft pants, their hearts still racing from the close encounter with the raiders. Harry looked at Louis, his green eyes searching Louis's blue ones for reassurance. But once he met his gaze, he turned with shame and cleared his throat, walking away and close to the edge to peek down.

"We need to find them, now." Harry said, breaking the silence between them.

Louis allowed himself to slowly let his body slide down the wall, closing his eyes and resting his head back. He secretly looked at Harry, replaying in his mind what had just happened, and the way Harry’s face had softened, seeming even more young. How he leaned in as well, surprisingly but also so tempting.

During the six months they'd been confined to the coffee shop in Stratford, moments like this had occurred more times than either of them cared to admit. The constant tension between them since day one, combined with the unending adrenaline and their competitive natures, often led them to this strange dance of attraction—an invisible force pulling them together, stronger than reason.

They would clash like cats and dogs, pushing each other's buttons, trying to be the one to provoke the other, and it almost always ended like this. One of them would unconsciously lean in too close, too tight, both ready to explode and let loose. Yet, nothing ever happened; there was always someone or something to interrupt, to break the spell. Sometimes they would simply part ways, brushing off the entire situation. But it was harder to ignore now, especially in these dire circumstances, where every day could be their last, and every decision held monumental weight. The urgency of their situation forced them to push aside their fears and reluctance, bringing their mutual attraction to the forefront.

Once again, an ominous shout echoed from behind the heavy door, accompanied by the ominous sound of approaching footsteps.

Louis shot up from his place, panic coursing through his veins, and frantically surveyed their surroundings for an escape route. His eyes darted to the rooftop across from them, measuring the intimidating gap between the two buildings, his heart sinking with the realisation of what lay ahead. The bench barricading the door rumbled under the relentless assault from the other side, serving as a grim reminder that they were running out of precious time.

As his eyes scanned the rooftop, Louis spotted a substantial wooden plank leaning against a nearby wall. It was thick and sturdy, a lifeline hanging in the balance. He raced toward it, gripping the plank firmly in his arms, his earlier sense of triumph fading in an instant. His gaze flickered to Harry, but any signs of victory or pride had evaporated from Harry's face, replaced by an ashen complexion and eyes glued to the abyss below. A deep frown furrowed Louis's brow, and he took tentative steps toward his trembling companion.

"You're afraid of heights," Louis declared, not as an accusation, but rather an empathetic acknowledgment of Harry's palpable fear.

Harry remained silent, but the terror etched across his features confirmed Louis's suspicion. In the background, the cacophony from beyond the heavy door intensified. The desperate, frenzied pounding sent shockwaves of urgency through the stale air. Louis made his way to the plank with no second thoughts, only pushed forward by the fear of what would happen to them if those men were to open the door. He climbed on it, taking a couple of hesitant steps with outstretched hand.

"Louis," Harry whispered-shouted behind him, taking two quick steps forward before stopping right at the edge, his hand raising with trembling fingers as if it longed to reach out to Louis, but he remained frozen at the edge, unable to take that final, daunting step.

When he reached the middle, he glanced back at Harry, his own anxiety heightening as he recognized his vulnerability. He knew that Harry's fear was not just of the precipice but also of the imminent peril that loomed behind them. Louis had to act quickly. With careful movements, he turned slowly to face Harry, body dangerously swaying to the left, watching as Harry’s eyes widened at the sight. Louis slowly extended his hand toward him.

"Look at me," he implored softly. Harry's gaze locked onto Louis's, his frightened eyes focusing solely on the reassuring blue of Louis's irises. "That's it," Louis coaxed gently. "Come up here, slowly. It’s fine, you are fine. Just look at me."

With painstaking care, Harry inched forward, placing one unsteady foot in front of the other. Once he had his two feet on it, he unconsciously looked down, a gasp falling from his lips.

‘’No, no, no, hey.’’ Louis called again, his hand still waiting for Harry’s. ‘’It’s ok, just focus on me, ok? Like this yeah, you’re doing good, H.”

With two last, shaky steps, Harry finally came in front of him, clammy hand grasping at Louis’ for dear life, almost crushing it. Louis marvelled at the trust Harry had placed in him during this vulnerable moment. And as the door started to move under the blows, Louis didn’t even hesitate before he started to walk backward, leading Harry with him without even looking behind, never leaving his eyes. Ever.

There was no time to dwell on it. The door behind them bursting open with a deafening crash, and armed men spilling onto the rooftop. The wooden plank creaked ominously under their weights.

In a desperate manoeuvre, Louis yanked Harry backward, and they both tumbled to the ground. Quickly, Louis rolled them around and shielded Harry from the hail of gunfire with his body, their hearts pounding in unison as bullets whizzed perilously close. The men on the adjacent rooftop tried to exploit the plank, but Louis wouldn't permit it. Summoning all his strength, he detached himself from Harry and crawled to the edge, before forcing the plank to plummet into the abyss, taking one of the men with it.

Amidst the chaos, Louis crouched his way back beside Harry, his watchful eyes never leaving him. Harry appeared pale, his lips drained of colour, and his expression oddly serene as he gazed off into the distance.

"H, we need to move!" Louis urged, his eyes darting across Harry's body in search of any injuries. Another bullet struck perilously close, prompting Harry to finally stumble to his feet.

Together, they crouched and slinked back into the relative safety of the building, seeking refuge from the relentless gunfire and the persistent peril that shadowed their every step. After securing the door behind them, Louis and Harry found themselves in a narrow stairwell, panting heavily as their adrenaline-soaked bodies struggled to recover. Louis turned to check on Harry, his smile fading as he noticed the wild look in Harry's eyes and the frantic way he searched Louis for injuries.

Before Louis could advance, Harry’s fingers brushed against his side, causing him to wince and shift away. His fingers came away bloody, and he spoke with an uncharacteristic note of concern in his voice, "You're hurt."

Louis scoffed, trying to downplay the injury, pushing at Louis' chest to create some distance. "I'm fine, it's just a scratch."

Harry’s response was both defensive and evasive. "We should check it.’’

‘’We don’t have time for that.’’ Louis sighed, straightening from the door. He couldn't help but add a teasing tone, "Are you worried about me?"

‘’As if.’’

He rolled his eyes, finding solace in their banter even amid chaos. "Okay, well, now that we've established that. Can we leave now? Or are you going to offer me a piggy ride?"

Harry retaliated with a swift flip of his middle finger before he started descending the stairs, setting a brisk pace. Louis followed, his legs still trembling from the adrenaline rush. He couldn't help but think about Liam and Zayn, wondering if they were okay, if they were safe and hiding like them. It was a thought he pushed aside, focusing on the immediate task at hand.

Louis leaned against a balcony railing, peering cautiously at the streets below. "Alright, the coast looks clear for now."

Harry joined him, glancing down at the eerily quiet streets. "We need to make it to that checkpoint we marked on the map."

Louis nodded, "I do know that, Harry. Funny enough, I was there."

Their eyes met, and for a moment, Louis thought Harry might punch him, but instead, with a loud sigh, he simply started to walk. As they descended the staircase to the street level, the tension between them occasionally erupted into petty squabbles. Harry's exhaustion and residual fear made him irritable, and Louis had never been one to back down from an argument.

As they descended the stairs, searching each floor for supplies left behind by other survivors, they encountered a major obstacle on the third floor. The stairwell leading downward was entirely blocked by a jumble of furniture—sofas, shelves, mattresses—it was an impassable barrier that threatened to trap them.

Louis, ever the resourceful one, spoke up. "I have an idea."

Harry, who had a penchant for anticipating Louis's more eccentric suggestions, responded with a sigh. "Jesus, please don't."

Nevertheless, he followed Louis into an apartment as Louis moved through it with the confidence of someone who'd lived there for years. They ended up in a bedroom that looked like it had been hit by a tornado. A fallen closet, a toppled dresser—it was a mess. Louis was standing on the balcony, peering to the left.

Harry immediately protested, "No way. Absolutely no way."

He began to walk back towards the door, determined to ignore Louis and whatever crazy plan he had in mind. But Louis, always knowing how to push Harry's buttons, added a challenge. "So, you're afraid?"

Harry stopped dead in his tracks. He could practically hear the delight in Louis's voice and see the smirk forming on his face. Louis knew Harry's competitive streak all too well, their constant bickering often fuelled by the desire to outdo each other. Slowly, he turned around, gathering his long hair into a bun and adjusting his heavy backpack. He rolled his neck, shifted the weight of his backpack, and pocketed his knife. "Let's do this."

That was how they found themselves navigating from building to building, using balconies to create a path towards escape. As they moved higher above the ground, the sounds of the raiders and their vehicle faded, indicating that the immediate danger was waning, and they could eventually descend to street level. Eventually, they got stuck and had to make their way out from within the building they were in. Persuaded they were safe and that the enemies were now far enough, they stopped controlling their footsteps and took their time to walk around the place, retrieving anything that could be useful for makeshift weapons or healthcare products.

As they were about to go out in the street, Louis was already working on the big metal chain that was holding the heavy door close, when they heard muffled voices from the outside. Harry shoved him to the side forcefully, making him glare dagger into his back. He prepared his gun, holding it close to his chest before opening the door wide and stepping out in the alley.

“AH !” Liam, Zayn, Harry and Louis all but scream at each other, jumping back a few steps from the fright they gave themselves. The unexpected reunion had left them all momentarily shaken, but Liam’ words snapped them back to reality.

“That was a fucking ambush. They nearly got him,’’ He pointed at Louis, ‘’And now the car’s fucking gone.’’

"Let's get out of this alley before your screaming attracts them again.’’ Louis said with a huff.

With caution, they stepped out of the narrow alley and into a slightly wider street. The echoes of their footsteps seemed to reverberate through the eerie silence that hung over the town. Every sound, every shadow seemed like a potential threat.

The sky had started to go darker when they finally reached the military checkpoint they had planned to find. And the reality of the situation hit them hard. The checkpoint had been completely taken over by raiders, and the scene before them was grim.

A military truck lay upside down on the road, a big red graffiti message on the massive metal door read "Death for Freedom," and a lone skeleton in a military uniform hung from a lamppost.

Louis couldn't help but mutter, his voice filled with frustration, "Well, what now?"

Harry remained silent, only his eyes peeking out from behind a counter in what used to be a Starbucks, fixated on the armed men guarding the checkpoint. The small crease between his brows deepened as he thought.

"What do we do?" Louis repeated, growing impatient due to exhaustion and hunger.

"Shut up. I'm thinking," Harry whispered-shouted, nudging Louis with his elbow without taking his eyes off the armed men.

"We have to find a place to sleep. Tomorrow, the first thing we do is establish a way to go past it to reach the next town." Liam said.

"What do you mean, another?" Louis questioned, his brow furrowing. "Come on, we could take them down."

Harry snorted and brushed away some wild curls that had escaped from his bun. "Listen, there are eight of them outside the door, two at each window, and probably a sniper on the roof. That's eleven, and some of them are likely already sleeping now. More of them are probably guarding the door from the inside. It's an old factory, so approximately, there must be at least thirty of them."

Louis stared at him, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, listening to his explanation. When Harry finished, Louis shut his mouth with an audible snap, swallowing and looking away. "Well, we could try going around it or approaching from behind. Something."

"It's a bloody brick wall, there is no 'behind.' Did you not see the barbed wire?" Harry's voice grew louder, and he suddenly became aware that their voices might attract unwanted attention. The room fell quiet until Liam made it clear they would be leaving, again.

“I’m starving,’’ Zayn’s voice came out of nowhere as they started to make their way out.

“I’d die for a Frappuccino right now…’’ Louis muttered under his breath before they left the place.

As the group continued to trudge through the desolate landscape, the harsh winds biting at their skin, Harry stayed at the back, allowing Zayn and Louis to lead the way, their voices carrying through the chilly air as they exchanged banter and shared a cigarette. But Harry had a secret, a revelation that had been gnawing at him, threatening to consume him from the inside. He knew he couldn't keep it to himself any longer.

He shuffled closer to Liam, keeping his eyes locked on the uneven path ahead. In a hushed tone, barely audible over the howling wind, he spoke, "I need to tell you something, but don't react, okay?"

Liam, puzzled by Harry's serious tone, nodded in agreement. "Alright."

Harry took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. "The ambush. The raiders," he began, choosing his words carefully. "It was Simon."

Liam's reaction was immediate and profound. He came to a sudden stop, his eyes wide with shock, his grip tightening on the hilt of his weapon. Fortunately, Louis and Zayn remained oblivious, forging ahead in their quest for shelter.

Desperate to maintain their cover, Harry raised a calming palm toward Liam. "Keep moving," he urged quietly. "We can't let them know we've stopped."

With uncertainty etched on his face, Liam resumed walking, his thoughts racing. "But how?" he whispered in disbelief. "I thought he was… you know."

Harry nodded, his expression grim. "I thought that too. But it explains a lot of things."

Liam struggled to comprehend the implications. "So, he deserted?"

Harry nodded again. "I guess so. Still, it doesn't explain how he ended up with the raiders now."

A dark chuckle escaped Liam's lips, tinged with bitterness and disbelief. "I mean, it's not hard to believe. He was messed up."

Their conversation was abruptly interrupted by Louis, who shouted back at them, "You coming or what?"

Harry patted Liam's shoulder, a silent signal that they needed to rejoin the group. As they continued their journey through the unforgiving wilderness, their shared secret weighed heavily on them.

And so, they pressed on, their footsteps echoing in the desolation, their destinies entwined with the enigmatic figure who had once been a comrade but was now a formidable adversary in their struggle for survival.

Chapter 9: Shoreditch

Chapter Text

They settled into what used to be a hotel.

The once grand Hilton Hotel, a symbol of luxury and comfort, was now a post-apocalyptic wreck. Its exterior bore the scars of time and disaster, with shattered windows that gaped like empty eye sockets, and the once pristine walls were now marred by graffiti and the dark stains of decay. The once-gleaming entrance was now a foreboding threshold, barricaded and fortified as a desperate attempt to keep out the horrors of the outside world. Approaching the hotel, the group was met with a sight that sent a chill down their spines. The entrance, which had once been adorned with polished glass doors and a welcoming canopy, was now sealed off with an assortment of debris and makeshift barricades. Large wooden beams, steel planks, and a collection of abandoned furniture had been piled up in front of the entrance, forming an imposing barrier that seemed impenetrable.

Liam was the first to assess the situation, his sharp eyes scanning the barricade for any weaknesses. "We need to find a way in," he said, his voice filled with determination. "There might be supplies, shelter, and who knows what else inside."

Harry, Louis, and Zayn nodded in agreement, understanding the importance of seeking refuge within the hotel's walls. They began to search the immediate vicinity, scouring the surrounding area for anything that might aid them in gaining entry. After some time, Harry spotted a partially collapsed section of the hotel's exterior, where a portion of the wall had crumbled, revealing a narrow gap. It was far from ideal, but it presented an opportunity.

"Over here," Harry called out, motioning for the others to join him. They cautiously made their way to the gap, realising that it was their best chance to breach the barricade.

With coordinated effort, they began to move some of the smaller debris blocking the path. It was hard work, and each sound they made felt like a thunderclap in the silence of the desolate city. The fear of drawing unwanted attention weighed heavily on their minds. Gradually, they managed to clear enough space for one of them to slip through. Louis, being the thinnest, was designated to venture inside first. With a final push, he squeezed through the gap and disappeared into the darkness beyond.

The others anxiously waited, their senses heightened, listening for any signs of danger. After what felt like an eternity, Louis’ voice echoed from the other side. "It's clear. You can come in."

Relief washed over them as, one by one, they followed the lead, crawling through the narrow opening and into the hotel's interior. The transition from the outside world to the decaying elegance of the Hilton was jarring, like stepping from one reality into another.

Liam and Harry exchanged a quick glance as they realised the urgency of securing the entry point. They couldn't afford any unwanted guests or threats sneaking in behind them. The narrow gap in the barricade was their lifeline, and they needed to protect it.

Harry turned to Liam. "We need to block this off—anything we can find."

Liam nodded, and they began scouring the area for materials that could be used to fortify their makeshift entrance. They found a large section of a broken wooden beam and some discarded metal sheets nearby. Together, they carried the heavy pieces back to the gap and wedged them in place, creating a formidable barrier.

Meanwhile, Zayn and Louis were exploring the lobby of the Hilton. Louis couldn't contain his excitement as he wandered through the dilapidated but once opulent space.

"Look at this place, Zayn! It's like something out of a movie. I've never seen anything like it!"

Zayn was about to answer, crouching down to look at some old fashion magazine, when Liam’s voice came out from behind. "Louis, keep your voice down. We don't know who or what might be in here with us."

Louis hushed, but his enthusiasm couldn't be fully contained. He reached out to touch a dusty chandelier hanging precariously from the ceiling. "Can you imagine staying here when it was all fancy? The chandeliers, the grand staircase, the plush carpets…"

Harry, who was still working on securing the entrance, overheard Louis and felt a surge of irritation. He raised his voice, frustration evident. "Louis, this isn't a sightseeing trip! We're here to find supplies and make sure it's safe."

Louis turned to Harry, his expression deflating slightly. "I just thought—"

Harry cut him off, his tone stern. "Save your thoughts for later. Right now, we need to be smart and stay alert."

Louis nodded, chastened by Harry's scolding. Zayn patted him on the shoulder in a reassuring manner and reminded him, "We'll explore, Lou, but we need to do it cautiously."

‘’Okay,’’ Liam’s voice came back as he and Harry were done with their barricade, advancing now in the middle of the lobby but only attracting Zayn’s attention. ‘’Zayn and I, we will try to go directly from the top floor and we will explore it starting from there. Harry, Louis, you start at the bottom and you go up, we meet in the middle.

Louis secretly rolled his eyes from his place behind the counter, as Liam and Zayn made their way up the grand staircase,

As Louis enthusiastically made his way toward a set of drawers filled with keys, Harry couldn't help but worry. "Which one do you think is the presidential suite?" Louis asked, his eyes shining with excitement.

"We should check if there are any infected here," Harry replied instead..

Louis's smile faded instantly, his shoulders drooping as he realised the seriousness of the situation. "Mate, I don't want to ruin the mood, but as you said, there's an army of men ready to kill anything and anyone outside. I think they got rid of that a long time ago."

Harry knew Louis had a point, but he couldn't help feeling frustrated by his lack of seriousness. Ignoring Louis, he climbed the grand staircase, gun at the ready, preparing for any potential threats. However, when he reached the second floor, he realised that Louis hadn't followed him. Annoyance and worry surged through him. He was about to go back downstairs and scold Louis for not sticking together when he heard voices coming from a nearby room.

"Mate, do you know some fucking survivors attacked Simon?" one voice said.

"Yeah, heard that. I'm glad he made it," another voice replied.

Harry muttered a curse under his breath and quickly ducked into an open room, hiding in the bathroom with his gun at the ready. He strained to listen, and it became evident that the person was alone. He holstered his gun and waited quietly, his thoughts centred on Louis, who was likely still downstairs. For a few agonising seconds, fear washed over him at the thought of something happening to him. But his attention was abruptly pulled away from his worries when a shadow passed by the door.

He waited, ear perked and senses alert. The person who entered was alone, so Harry pocketed his gun and prepared to ambush. As soon as the person came into the room, Harry lunged forward, clamping his hand over the man's mouth to stifle any screams, while his other arm tightened around the man's neck. The man struggled fiercely, writhing and attempting to scratch his face, but eventually, his movements grew weaker, and he went limp. Harry carefully laid the unconscious man on the floor, searched for his pocket and took away his bullets.

Crouching down, he made his way out the room slowly, hoping the second Raider he had heard did not go for Louis. He was about to head back to the stairs when someone grabbed him by the throat from behind, lifting him off the ground. His vision darkened as the person's grip tightened, and he fought to free himself, his body desperate for air. He used his elbow to strike at the person, but it had no effect. Desperation welled up inside him as his breathing became more and more strained. Summoning his remaining strength, Harry pushed himself backward with all his might, slamming the person into the wall behind. The grip on his throat loosened, allowing him to turn around quickly and land a punch.

However, the man responded by gripping Harry by the waist and shoving him back against the railing.

Pain flared through Harry as his back collided with it, and he groaned, momentarily stunned. He was helpless as the man pushed him again, and he tumbled over the railing, falling from the second floor to the lobby below.

His backpack cushioned his fall somewhat, preventing his head from hitting the floor, but his back took the brunt of the impact. Moaning in pain and blinking away the tears, he tried his best to turn or get up, but only ended up lying on his stomach, struggling to catch his breath, his body aching and hurting in various places. The man who had assaulted him was already descending the stairs, approaching him menacingly. He turned Harry onto his back by tugging on his hair, came to straddle him and began to strangle him, thumbs pressing into both sides of his throat, palm right at the centre of his throat. In his dazed and breathless state, Harry struggled, but he was at a significant disadvantage, his body already weakened by the fall.

The world around him was fading slowly when a gunshot suddenly rang out, causing the man to go limp and fall onto him.

He didn’t even realise that he had shut his eyes, until he slowly opened them. Louis stood there with a trembling hand holding a gun, panting heavily as he watched the lifeless body on top of Harry. Silence hung heavily between them, punctuated only by the echoes of their recent struggle and the lifeless body sprawled on the lobby floor. Harry and Louis stared at each other, their unspoken tension palpable in the vast space.

Louis held the gun loosely between trembling hands, his face a shade paler than usual. Harry could feel his heart pounding in his chest, but he forced himself to wait, to regain his composure after the adrenaline rush. Slowly, he pushed the lifeless body off of himself and struggled to his feet, using his elbow for support, wincing from the pain in his back.

"I feel sick..." Louis finally muttered, his eyes darting from Harry to the fallen man, who lay in a growing pool of blood. His arms hung limply by his sides, the gun still in his grasp.

"Where did you get that gun from?!" came Liam's angry and authoritative voice from behind them, causing both Harry and Louis to turn their attention to the staircase. He and Zayn were running down the stairs, Liam gripping his own gun tightly, his gaze locked onto Louis. He moved directly towards him, shoving him so hard that Louis fell onto the floor.

"Liam!" Zayn exclaimed, his voice filled with concern as he rushed over to help Louis up.

"I'm so fucking tired of your shit!’’ Liam stated, advancing towards them with a menacing finger on the trigger. "Since the day you arrived here, all you've brought is trouble. We told you not to touch that damn gun, and you went and stole it!’"

"I-I... I just..." Louis stammered, feeling a deep sense of shame wash over him for being reprimanded so harshly in front of everyone. At the same time, he felt utterly powerless to defend himself.

"No, you shut your—"

"Liam," Harry's voice cut through the tension, slow and low, oddly calm.

Everyone fell silent, their eyes fixed on Harry, who had dirt and blood smudged on his face and his once-neat bun now gone. A single look from Harry was enough to make Liam storm out of the room with a curse, followed closely by Zayn, leaving the two of them alone.

Louis began to fidget with the cuff of his hoodie, his gaze fixed on his feet as he searched for a way out of the situation. He despised it, but he knew that nothing he could say would change the circumstances.

Harry's patience wore thin, and he could no longer contain his anger. He lunged forward, grabbing the gun from Louis's trembling hands with enough force to make Louis stagger. He held the gun close to Louis's face, his eyes burning with fury, his body radiating pent-up energy.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" Harry shouted, his voice filled with rage. "Where were you?!"

Louis's voice came out low and defensive as he tried to explain, his blue eyes desperately searching Harry's. "I saved your life..."

"You could have shot me by accident! You don't even know how to handle a damn gun!" Harry screamed, forcefully tucking the gun into his trousers as he turned away to regain his composure.

Louis instinctively took a step back, the words Harry hurled at him cutting deeper than he could have imagined. A sense of injustice surged through him, boiling his blood and causing his eyes to sting. "Fuck you!" Louis shot back, his anger surging. "I saved you, again, and you're treating me like a piece of shit for no reason."

Harry spun around so abruptly that Louis jumped. "None of this would have happened if you had just followed my lead! But no, you always have to act out and do as you please. It's all just a game to you!" His voice was raspy from shouting, his body still throbbing with pain.

"Stop treating me like a fucking child!" Louis yelled, closing the distance between them.

"Then stop acting like one!" Harry roared back, their faces mere inches apart.

They were both panting heavily, chests heaving as they locked eyes, neither willing to back down. Louis stared at Harry, his blue eyes filled with a mix of anger, confusion, and an unspoken yearning. Harry's brow furrowed in response to the unexpected complexity of emotions he saw in Louis's gaze.

Suddenly, Louis's expression crumbled, replaced by disappointment and hurt, all etched across his face. At that moment, he turned away from Harry, his movements calm and silent as he walked toward the stairs without a word.

"Don’t walk away from me!" Harry's voice strained as he watched Louis storm off, his anger still simmering beneath the surface.

Louis didn't stop. He continued ascending the stairs, his footsteps echoing through narrow corridor. He no longer wanted to hear Harry's angry words or witness the disappointment in his eyes. It was time to put some distance between them, if only for a while. As Louis reached the top of the stairs, he could hear Harry's heavy footsteps closing in on him, determined not to let Louis escape this confrontation so easily.

"I said, where the hell are you going?" Harry repeated, his voice still charged with frustration but slightly less thunderous.

But he continued to advance, entering a suite without slamming the door, leaving the pleasure of doing so to Harry as he blindly followed him. Once in the room, Harry mimicked Louis's actions, yanking his backpack and letting it fall to the ground. Just as Louis was about to disappear into a room, Harry grabbed his wrist, forcing him to turn around.

"I'm talking to you," Harry said, his words coming out almost like a growl, his fingers trembling with frustration and anger. He didn't like the cold demeanour Louis was giving him.

"I'm going to bed. That's why we're here," Louis replied, his eyes fixed on a point behind Harry's shoulder. His face seemed devoid of emotion, but his eyes were rimmed with red.

"I'm not done talking. What happened—"

"Talk about what?” Louis yanked his wrist away “About how you always think you're right and that I'm just some bloody liability? How stupid I am? How would everything be better if I was not there?!" With a purposeful shove of Harry's shoulder, he walked in the opposite direction, heading towards what looked like a living room, throwing his backpack on a table.

"Where did you get the gun?" Harry asked, struggling to maintain a normal tone, though his voice wavered, revealing his growing impatience.

"Get out," Louis said sharply, his voice laced with a mixture of anger and exhaustion, as he started to unpack for the night.

Harry bit his lip and clenched his fists, his frustration mounting. "Did you steal it from Liam?"

Louis's hands froze in the bag, and the room fell into an eerie silence. Harry half-expected Louis to pull out another gun, maybe even shoot him, but instead, Louis simply turned around, his eyes piercing blue. "You are the worst asshole I've ever met in my life," Louis spat out.

"You don't get it. You don't know how to use that; we never taught you. You can't just go around using any kind of weapon you please. It's not a damn video game, for God's sake. You could have shot m—"

"Jesus Christ, get out," Louis cut him off, tossing a granola bar he had in his hand somewhere on the floor. "I want to sleep."

"You need to kn—"

"Get out." Louis enunciated each word slowly, his eyes frigid, his chest heaving. If Harry focused hard enough, he could almost imagine steam rising from Louis's body.

"You don't get to steal weapons like that. We need to test them, we ne—"

"Get the fuck out!" Louis screamed again, hurling his flashlight in Harry's direction. Harry barely avoided it by crouching down with wide eyes, while Louis glared at him with eyes darkened by anger, taking a few steps forward as he started talking. "You think you're so much better than me. Since the first day, when I saved your damn life, when I killed a man for your stupid ass. And it keeps happening, again and again. And every time, you just act like I'm some stupi—"

"You don't get my point, you—" Harry tried to interject, his own anger escalating.

"NO!" Louis screamed, starting to make his way back to the bedroom. Harry followed him, his anger reaching its boiling point, but he didn't have a chance to speak because Louis was already on a tirade, turning around in the middle of the room. "You could have just said, 'Oh, thank you, Louis, I know it was either me or him, but thanks.' Do you have anything like that for me, Harry?! Do you!?"

Harry stood there, still and silent, as Louis's words poured out faster and faster, his accent thickening with emotion. His gestures were wild, his hair a dishevelled mess with specks of dirt on his neck and cheekbones. Harry watched him almost in a daze, his eyes scanning every inch of Louis's form and how suddenly, it felt like he was so much more attractive, and appealing than he used to be. Suddenly, the fact that he almost died, that Louis saved him, that Louis almost died and that, in the end, they were still alive, came at him at once.

The cocktail of fear, panic, and adrenaline they had endured coursed through Harry's veins, sending waves of warmth radiating through his body. Louis's mouth moved incessantly, but Harry couldn't hear a word. He now watched with a hunger and lust he had never felt before as Louis's demeanour shifted in the throes of anger. He noted how the veins in Louis's neck stood out, how his eyes turned icy and ruthless, how his chest was heaving and how his voice would break at some words from how loud he was.

"—so just get the fuck out of my room, you stupid curly-haired cunt !"

In the blink of an eye, Louis found himself forcefully pressed against the wall, Harry's hand gripping his throat tightly, thumb and forefinger reaching under his ears. The force and the suddenness of it made Louis’ head thud loudly against the wall, pulling a muffled groan out of him. They locked eyes, Louis initially shocked, but something else flickered in his gaze as Harry tightened his grip ever so slightly.

"Shut. The. Fuck. Up," Harry growled, his voice low and deep, like a starved animal. His breath washed over Louis's cheekbones.

They remained locked in that position, their ragged breaths and heated bodies the only reminders of their presence. Lost in each other's eyes, a mixture of anger, fear, and an undeniable tension filled the air. After six long months of living in fear, never knowing if each day might be their last, oscillating between teasing and fighting, they had finally reached their breaking point.

And, although Harry felt he had complete control and inwardly started to celebrate his stillness, he did not expect Louis to abruptly seize hold of his long locks and pull violently on them, taking advantage of his inattention and pain, to push him and switch positions. He threw him against the wall with even more force, forcing his entire body against him to keep him in place, one hand still grasping his hair and the other bracing against the wall.

"Don't touch me." Louis gritted practically on his lips, his voice hoarse and dominant.

The moment their eyes met once more, the atmosphere of the room changed in a way that no one would be able to explain nor understand. Long gone were the furious eyes and tense nerves, abruptly and peculiarly supplanted by blown out pupils and shaky breaths full of restraint.

They both tried to ignore how their bodies were shaking, how close they were and how none of them tried to pull away.

And when Harry’s eyes darted down and fell on Louis’ mouth, they knew they were damned from the start.

Liam stormed into the room, the door nearly falling off its hinges from the force with which he opened it. Zayn followed him, walking more slowly, and closed the door behind him. He set his bag down on the floor beside a small sofa before approaching the window, where Liam was standing with his back to him.

Gently, as if it were a well-practised ritual, Zayn's palms made their way from Liam's hands to his shoulders, then down to his chest, and his chin nestled against Liam's collar. He swayed them both, his thumb tracing small circles atop Liam's heavy hoodie.

"You know he did the right thing," Zayn whispered softly. "You shouldn't have done that."

Liam remained silent but closed his eyes, allowing himself to be cocooned and comforted, feeling the tension slowly dissipate from his body.

"Louis is trying just as hard as we are, maybe even more. He's saved him for the hundredth time now," Zayn continued.

Liam finally moved, unfolding Zayn's hands from his chest so he could turn around. His own hands found their place on Zayn's waist. "I know," he admitted, looking down with guilt. "I just... I thought... I can't lose Harry."

Zayn smiled at him, his expression soft and understanding. He brought his knuckles to Liam's face, gently caressing his cheek. "I know," he said reassuringly.

For a moment, they stood in silence, in front of a window that revealed only a view of a shattered town and broken houses. But they held each other as if nothing else in the world mattered, foreheads touching, providing mutual support.

"We probably shouldn't have left them alone for so long," Liam chuckled.

"We'll go check on them later," Zayn replied, taking advantage of the room's privacy to lean forward and kiss him.

"Is that all you've got?" Harry asked him with a smirk right before he shoved Louis away, witnessing him stagger backward and knock his back into a marble console behind him, an ancient vase crashing at his feet. He took advantage of the instant Louis looked down at the shattered thing and shoved him against the marble furniture, bringing his face closer to his.

''Come on, you can do better than that.'' He muttered to him, watching him with sick delight as the blue in his eyes got swollen from how large his pupils were getting.

Without warning and with a strength that shocked them both, Louis slapped him across the face.

The impact caused Harry’s head to swivel to the left and his hair to fall, concealing the side of his face. The room's tension seemed to hang in the air like a thick, suffocating fog. The silence after Louis's slap was deafening, broken only by the distant sound of shattered porcelain at their feet.

Harry’s cheek stung, and he slowly turned his head back to face Louis, a mixture of defiance and something else burning in his eyes. He brushed his dishevelled hair away from his face, revealing a red mark left by the slap. They shared black eyes of fury and hunger, on the edge of exploding. Forgetting about the discomfort in their bodies and the wounds on their skin, the only thing that mattered in that moment was simply being alive.

"Satisfied now ?" Louis finally growled, his voice filled with a raw intensity that sent shivers down his adversary's spine.

The moment hung in the balance, two powerful forces at odds with each other. It was a dance of passion and anger, pride and desire. Neither of them could deny the magnetic pull drawing them closer despite their differences.

Harry wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth with his thumb, a result of the slap, and grinned through the pain. "Barely."

‘’You need a fucking hobby.’’

‘’You are my hobby.’’

Without warning, Louis closed the distance between them, crashing their lips together in a bruising kiss, hands going straight for the curls, tugging and pulling. It was a battle of dominance, their tongues clashing, teeth biting, and hands roaming each other's bodies in a frenzy of desire and frustration. The room no longer felt silent; it crackled with the intensity of their unexpected connection, as Harry bent forward, forcing Louis to arch back and gripped directly at his ass, shoving him once more against the wall.

‘’I said,’’ Louis gasped when his mouth was freed, only for his neck to be completely assaulted by teeth and tongue, ‘’Don’t touch me,’’

‘’I hate your fucking—’’ Harry moaned shamelessly when Louis’ hand came under his clothes, nails dragging all the way down his back, surely leaving little red bleeding marks and biting at his lobe all at once. ‘’attitude,’’

‘’Yeah ?’’ Louis shoved him away and watched as he swayed, picture perfect of wrecked, with rosy cheeks and glossy eyes. He bit his lips as Harry leaned against the opposite wall, head bumping into a frame and paying no mind as the object fell down with a thud.

Like a magnet, Louis pushed off the wall and walked forward to him, like a wolf closing on a prey. When he was at arms reach, Harry grabbed at his front pocket and tugged at him, his mouth going straight for the side of his neck. ‘’Why don’t you fuck it out of me then ?’’ Louis rasped, as his hands came to palm him, squeezing and roaming on the outline of his thickening cock.

‘‘Forget what I said before,’’ With another moan, Harry let his head fall back against the wall with yet another thud, letting Louis completely ravage the skin of his throat and then biting harshly at his lips, drawing blood again, shivering and gasping from pleasure as his cock was being massaged through his pants. ‘’Please, never stop talking.”

What followed was a pure game of push and pull. They stumbled back and forth, tugging roughly at each other's hair and clothes, almost tripping over Harry's backpack once and over the coffee table twice. With his grip around his waist, Louis directed them towards the long wooden table to reach his bag. But as they approached it, Harry spun him around and almost forced him to bend down, attacking his neck.

‘'Don't fucking—’’ Louis' words were muffled by the hoodie Harry just ripped off him, "—manhandle me like that.’’

Still, he made no move to turn around or push him away. He reached out a hand for his backpack, trying to grasp it with his fingertips, his position causing his ass to press even more against Harry.

‘’Stop running your mouth.’’ Harry growled with a sharp bite in his ear.

Louis had to do his best not to lose his concentration as he searched in his bag for the precious foil packet, but Harry's warm and hard body behind him touching, groping and biting him was very distracting. However, when he felt Harry pull off his T-shirt, he grinned secretly and waited.

"You—’’ He felt Harry's fingers at the base of his back, grazing the waistband of his trousers. There was a tug, and then he was spun around again. Harry was holding another gun, a smaller one that Louis had successfully taken away from Liam's base before they left the house, and which he might have left there. "You little shit.’’ Harry said breathlessly, slamming the gun down on the table directly behind Louis. "You had two?

“Oops?” Louis asked with a fake innocent smile and tilted his head.

Harry went to lean in again, but before he could claim his mouth, Louis pushed the condom right between their faces and pressed it against Harry's mouth.

They stumbled again, mouths and tongues now never leaving each other, nails and teeth always meeting skin and tearing at the flesh despite the ache of their sore bodies. None of this should be enticing, appealing, as they were both dirty and exhausted, bloody and sweaty from their day. But the need to scratch that itch, the need to feel alive, was stronger than everything.

When the double wooden door flew open under their weight, they were both panting and groaning against each other, bodies gone glistening with a faint layer of sweat. Louis pushed him again, causing Harry to fall backwards and land directly in the cream-coloured armchair in the corner of the bedroom they were now in. He watched, fiery blue eyes almost gone under all the lust and heat in him, as Harry shamelessly went to tug his own shirt off, grabbing it by the back and lifting it up, unveiling toned muscles.

Harry watched with the same look in his eyes, green long gone and replaced by a full blown out look, red plump lips and crazy curls falling around his shoulders, as Louis took his trousers and pants off in one go and immediately made his way to him and straddled him without any hesitation.

‘’In a hurry ?’’ Harry teased with a raise of his brow, which disappeared immediately when Louis brought the condom between his teeth and started to tug on his trousers with force and purpose. ‘’Wait— I need to..’’ He trailed a hand behind Louis' back.

‘’Don’t need that.’’ Louis gritted behind his teeth,

Harry hissed when he felt his cock finally free of his pants, but immediately looked at Louis’ face when he felt him froze. He smirked, looking down at himself proudly, before looking back at Louis’ awestruck face. ‘’Sure you don’t?’’

Louis looked half pained half mesmerised, the condom falling out of his mouth from how jaw slacked the view had let him. When he looked up, he frowned. ‘’But we don’t have lu—’’

Two of Harry’s long fingers came to his mouth, bumping on his lips, not even asking for authorisation before they came heavy on his tongue. Louis wanted to snap, to storm out of here or to reverse their situation, but he couldn’t. He was far too deep already. He knew he was going to regret it, that Harry was probably going to brag about it in the future, but he didn’t care.

Surprising them both, he gripped Harry’s wrist to maintain it in place, and took his fingers deep in his mouth, letting his tongue flat under them, bobbing his head back and forth while his eyes never left Harry.

And Harry. He looked like he was already about to come. His mouth fell open, his brows furrowed in both pleasure and pain, like watching that was physically hurting him. Their faces were close, Harry’s knuckles bumping into his own chin and his eyes were dead set on that mouth, ragged breath and groan escaping him without his control. Louis could feel him twitch under his bare ass, adding on a small moan around his fingers before letting them out of his mouth.

“Be quick.’’ Louis said harshly, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against the back of the armchair to allow quick access to Harry.

And Harry didn’t want to listen to him, but the offer was too tempting. He made a quick work of the first finger, giving him more attention and care at the second and when he barely brushed the third, Louis pulled his hand away and ripped the foil with his teeth.

‘’Stop moving.’’ He growled when Harry’s hips kept buckling as he rolled the condom on him, thanking the universe and the angels that the only condom he had in his bag were lubed ones.

He pushed at Harry’s chest to force his back to lean back into the chair, his slim waist highlighted as he looked behind him to take hold of his cock and bring it exactly where he needed it. Harry had no choice but to watch him sink down. Their mouths opened at the same time, Louis struggling to keep his eyes open, obviously trying to scold his features and to appear unaffected.

And as soon as he was all the way in, Harry lost it.

Louis didn’t wait a mere seconds before he started moving, rolling his hips in tantalising back and forth motions, one of his hands on the armrest and the other gripping Harry’s neck. Harry held him with one hand on his hip and the other on his ass, his head completely thrown back on the chair.

‘’That’s what you wanted huh ?’’ Louis gritted out in between two ragged breaths, his voice wavering and breaking on the edge. ‘’Always trying to be in control—’’ He leaned in close, their breaths mingling and their nose bumping. ‘’Look at you now.’’

And Louis looked way too comfortable and not affected enough by the situation compared to Harry, who was ten seconds away from explosion. So with his feet still planted on the ground, he brought his two hands on Louis’ ass and dug his nails in the meaty skin here, moving his hips up to meet Louis halfway.

After the third thrust, Louis slumped forward and a loud broken moan escaped his throat, landing right next to Harry’s ear and making him moan back. Louis’ smaller hands came upward and suddenly gripped his neck. He brought their faces close, breathing and moaning against his lips as he tried to keep his eyes on him. ‘’K-Keep— keep doing that. Fuck, keep doing that.’’

Harry saw how his eyes rolled, and looked down to watch how filthily Louis was moving his body on top of him, the roll of his hips, the plumpness of his thighs, the sweat on his chest. ‘’Who knew this is what I needed to do to get you obedient and silent?’’

The only answer Louis gave him was to apply even more pressure on his throat, their dark eyes meeting again. ‘’I knew it.’’ Louis said in between a whimper, squeezing his neck again and moaning when Harry twitched inside of him.

Harry straightened up a bit, parting his legs slightly and bringing his mouth to Louis’ nipple, just because he couldn’t help. But the change of position, for both of them, was what pushed them to the edge.

Louis moaned again, louder than before, as his eyes almost grew twice their size. He looked down at Harry with hunger, his appearance almost wild and animal-like. They started moving quickly, the wet sound of skin against skin lingering in the room. Harry was shaking, his whole body completely overtaken by waves of pleasure as Louis squeezed his neck and slapped at his cheek, once then twice when Harry moaned from deep in his throat.

Biting Harry’s lips until they bled, Louis’s eyes never left his. ‘’Go on then,’’ He succeed to get out while his voice was wavering, barely able to breathe, ‘’Make me come,’’ He said to him, licking Harry’s bloody lips and slapping his cheek again, ‘’Make me come, H.’’

"Fuck,'' Harry moaned, feeling the knot at the root of his belly completely dissolved in fire, ''Fuck — fuck,'' He squeezed Louis and pulled him down hard, and together, they moaned so loudly the wall shook with it.

Chapter 10: Whitechapel

Chapter Text

Being able to have a good night of sleep was a luxury they hadn't experienced in a long time. Since the world had become a chaotic, apocalyptic nightmare where comfortable beds, clean sheets, and uninterrupted sleep were distant memories.

As the morning sun began to filter through the tattered curtains, Louis awoke, his naked body shivering. He groaned softly, disoriented for a moment as he tried to piece together the events that had led them to this room. Slowly, he propped himself up on his elbows, his hands rubbing his face in a futile attempt to stave off the exhaustion. Glancing behind him, he noticed the remnants of their passion strewn about the room - his trousers and Harry's pants abandoned on an armchair.

He couldn't help but let his head fall dramatically onto the pillow, his thoughts a jumble of emotions and memories. Just as he was beginning to wonder where Harry had disappeared to, he heard the telltale sounds of movement - the rustle of fabric, the zipping of a zipper, and a soft thud, followed by a muttered curse. Moments later, Harry's head appeared from the partially open double door.

"Couldn't even cover me with a blanket?" Louis asked, his voice still raspy from the night before.

"No," Harry replied automatically, a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned against the doorframe, completely unabashed in his nakedness. "Not with a view like that."

Louis groaned again, his cheeks flushing slightly, and he fumbled blindly for the blanket to shield himself from Harry's unrelenting gaze. Once he had cocooned himself in its warmth, he sat up on the edge of the bed, trying to tame his dishevelled hair.

"God, can you get dressed?" he muttered under his breath.

Harry chuckled, taking a casual bite from a cereal bar he'd likely stolen from Louis' bag. "Don't try to tell me you don't like what you see."

"I may not like you," Louis retorted, rolling the blanket around himself and gingerly swinging his legs over the side of the bed, wincing at a sudden twinge of pain at his back. "But physically speaking, I do see the appeal." With a critical eye, he sized Harry up and down before making his way past him, headed for the bathroom. He desperately hoped there was still functioning water in this forsaken hotel.

"Not even inviting me in?" Harry called after him with a teasing lilt.

"Piss off," Louis yelled back, the banter between them momentarily easing the tension that still hung in the air.

Despite the precariousness of their situation and the uncertainty of the world outside, there was a flicker of something between them - a connection that defied the chaos around them and offered a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness.

Something they had momentarily forgotten was that they were not alone in this hotel. As they finished dressing and prepared to face the day and their fellow survivors, Louis stopped Harry in his tracks with a firm hand on the doorknob.

"If you tell anyone about this, I will kill you," Louis warned, his tone dead serious.

Harry didn't appear surprised in the least. He simply gazed down at Louis, who was busy gathering his unruly hair to tie it into a bun, as was his customary routine. The flexing of Harry's biceps drew Louis's attention, momentarily distracting him. But before Harry could respond, two loud, firm knocks on the door shattered the moment. The two men exchanged guilty glances, their faces reflecting the shock of being caught in a vulnerable and intimate moment. Louis took a step back, physically pushing Harry towards the door, as if hoping to hide behind him.

When Harry opened the door, they were met with a stern and visibly angry Liam, who had his hands on his hips and wore a frown that could cut glass. Zayn stood behind Liam, playing with the strand of his bag shyly, his expression conveying a mix of embarrassment and frustration. He gave Louis a subtle, warning look, silently communicating that today was not the day for any sort of confrontation.

"Let's go," Liam said tersely, without offering any further explanation or acknowledgment of the awkward situation. It was clear that they had more pressing matters to attend to, and the memory of the previous night's escapades would have to wait for another time.

It had been almost two days since they had enjoyed a normal, complete meal. Their stomachs growled with hunger, and exhaustion threatened to weigh them down. It was crucial that they took a break to eat something before continuing with their plans. Another attack in their current condition could prove disastrous. Plus, Harry's side bore a nasty violet and yellow bruise from his fall during their previous encounter.

As they left the hotel through a rickety staircase, Louis discreetly signalled to Zayn, silently urging him to plead their case with Liam. They needed a brief respite, a moment to regain their strength.

"We need to find a car," Liam declared as they walked along the pavement, his tone focused and determined.

Louis piped up, offering a glimmer of hope, "There's a gas station down the road on the left. Maybe we'll get lucky there."

Expecting a reprimand for what might have seemed like a reckless suggestion, Louis was taken aback when Liam simply nodded in agreement and instructed him to lead the way. Louis glanced at his companions with bewilderment, disbelief etched on his face. It was an unexpected and much-needed break from Liam's usually unwavering determination to press on.

The gas station stood as a grim reflection of the surrounding desolation – a place of dirt, broken glass, a missing door, and an upturned car in the parking area. Still, they held onto hope. As Zayn suggested going inside to scavenge for food, Louis decided to stay outside and scout for a functional vehicle.

Harry found himself in a dilemma. Should he follow Liam and attempt to decipher the source of his unease, or should he stick close to Louis to ensure his safety? Ultimately, he chose to accompany Zayn and Liam inside the gas station. Carefully navigating through the debris, they grimaced at the macabre sight of what seemed to be the gas station's owner lying lifeless behind the counter. After a thorough search, their meagre findings consisted of a single bag of crisps, a pack of chewing gum, a lukewarm bottle of juice, and a box of biscuits. Liam remained in an agitated state, pointedly ignoring Harry's presence.

Feeling increasingly uneasy about the situation, Harry decided to leave in search of Louis. Liam and Zayn, oblivious to his discomfort, went in opposite directions to scout for a vehicle.

As Harry rounded a corner, he walked down the street, he came to a sudden halt. There stood Louis next to a car, an old Jeep truck that seemed ideal for navigating the scattered town. But he wasn't alone. Another man, tall and clean-cut, had Louis's full attention. Louis leaned casually against the car, smoking and laughing as if they were old friends. A strange sensation knotted in Harry's gut, a pang of jealousy and anger simmering beneath the surface. He watched as Louis spoke to the man.

‘’I really do need this car,’’ Louis said, letting the smoke out of his mouth, ‘’I’m sure we could find a way to solve this issue.’’

The guy laughed, gaze fixed on Louis. ‘’You know I can’t do that, we’re all in the same boat. I need it too.’’

‘’Well, what should we do then ?’’ Louis added with a soft chuckle, voice taking on a soft, raspy tone tinged with flirtation

Harry’s jaw clenched as he realised Louis was using his charm to secure the car. Unnoticed by the two, Harry approached them, standing tall and assessing the stranger with a critical eye. The man, with perfect blonde curls and deep blue eyes, seemed unfazed by Harry's presence, focusing entirely on Louis.

"Is there a problem?" Harry inquired, raising an eyebrow when the man seemed to dismiss him with a casual glance.

Ignoring Harry, Louis took a step closer to the man, tilting his head in a manner that was teasing and familiar to Harry. "My friend is hurt, and we really need the car," Louis repeated, placing a hand on the man's chest.

Harry turned his gaze away, trying to hide the mix of frustration and jealousy that surged within him, his tongue grazing on the inside of his cheek to bite down any comment he had on the back of his throat.

The man sighed, casting a brief, appraising glance at Harry before returning his attention to Louis. "Yeah, you've won. Take it."

Harry couldn't believe his eyes. He knew Louis was attractive, but he never expected him to use his charm so effectively in such dire circumstances. As the man leaned down to whisper something in Louis's ear that made him giggle, Harry's patience ran out. He stepped closer to Louis, almost pressing himself against him, and extended a hand, demanding the car keys with a dark, determined look in his eyes.

The man hesitated, as if reconsidering, but Harry's stern expression and raised eyebrow persuaded him to hand over the keys. He glanced at Louis one more time and lowered his voice. "Hope to see you again, pretty."

Harry's jaw clenched even tighter as he accepted the keys, his frustration and uncertainty growing. There was something about the interaction that didn't sit right with him, something that left a bitter taste in his mouth. But for now, all that mattered was getting back to their group with the car they desperately needed.

As they all settled into the car, the atmosphere inside was thick with awkwardness. The unspoken tension between Harry and Louis, combined with their recent intimacy and the strange silent treatment Liam was giving to Harry, made for an uncomfortable start to their journey.

Then, unexpectedly, Liam's voice broke the silence from the backseat, ‘’Thanks, Louis.’’ startling everyone, especially Louis, who lifted his head from his lap, blinking in surprise before turning around to look at Liam with wide eyes.

"Um," Louis cleared his throat, struggling to find his words, "For what?"

Liam responded with a small, unfamiliar smile, "For the car. It's a nice one. Good job."

Louis was left momentarily speechless, a surprised smile slowly spreading across his face. He turned back to face the road, not able to hide the sense of accomplishment that filled him.

A hand reached out from the back, revealing Zayn's distinctive tattoos peeking out from his sleeves. "We need to eat, guys. It's not ideal, but it's food."

Louis took the pack of biscuits from Zayn without complaint, placing it on his lap and opening it carefully. From his bag, he retrieved a small bottle of water, taking two sips before offering it silently to Harry. Harry glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, still upset and puzzled by Liam's sudden change in attitude towards Louis. He angrily snatched the bottle from Louis's hand and took a drink.

"Where to now?" He asked once he was done drinking, stealing a biscuit from the box and putting it between his teeth while keeping his eyes on the road.

As they drove, Louis suggested they head to Whitechapel, where his tattoo shop, Cloak and Dagger, was located. Surprisingly, Liam agreed without a fight, and Harry drove carefully through the war-torn town, attempting to navigate the destruction. Louis's heart ached as he witnessed the devastation inflicted upon a place that had once been familiar and comforting to him. He gazed out the window as they passed his favourite coffee shop, now reduced to rubble. He pointed Harry in the right direction with a mix of excitement and apprehension.

Upon arriving at Cloak and Dagger, Louis's emotions overwhelmed him. The shop, once a black and gold glass storefront, now lay in ruins, a mere shadow of its former self. Broken windows and a demolished door welcomed them, while a few tenacious plants and herbs had started to reclaim the space, invading half of the storefront. Louis stepped out of the car first, his silence masking the confusion and sorrow building up inside him. Years of hard work, sweat, and dedication were obliterated before his eyes. The others followed him, their expressions filled with sympathy and concern.

"Um," Louis began, wiping his face with a trembling hand and scratching at his stubble, "I used to have some food in the fridge there." He pointed to a corner behind the counter and disappeared into a back room, closing the door behind him.

Harry hung back, his hands in his pockets as he admired the drawings and tattoo pictures adorning the shop's walls, impressed by Louis's talent and creativity. Zayn approached him, observing the artwork as well. "You should talk to Liam." He remarked, glancing at Harry from the side.

Harry went, hands in his pocket and nerves in high alert. Liam had and would probably always be a figure of authority for him, and even if he would never admit it, it could be slightly frightening to see him mad. So he went for a slow tactic, leaning against the car exactly like Liam was, fixing the shop straight ahead, looking at the faded name written in gold, thinking about what it used to be like when Louis was inside with customers, when the streets were alive and full.

"Look,'' He started when Liam made no move to talk, ''I don't know wha--''

"I know what happened at the hotel.'' Liam said, firm and stern, leaving no place for Harry to keep talking. By the sound of his voice only, he knew the conversation would not end up in a good way. ''And honestly Harry, you did some stupid things in your life but that must have been on the top. What were you thinking ?'' Liam threw the half-smoked cigarette on the floor and turned to him, ''We are fucking stuck in the middle of the end of the world, and you find time to shag? Him?!’’

Harry's hands were now fully fisted right inside his pocket, his long curls covering his face from Liam, his jaw clenched and tense, and his pulse slowly quickening from the anger building within him. He waited, patiently and unmoving as Liam spat his anger at his face.

"And I get it," Liam continued, his tone serious, "the world's gone to hell, and we're all scared, looking for some kind of comfort. But we can't afford to let our emotions get in the way. We can't afford affection, not now. The risks are too high. For fuck's sake, we learned that.'' He stepped toward, forcing Harry to look at him, ''If you get attached and something happens, you won't be able to get up again, you know it. It's careless," He insisted. "We were there to search the place, and you almost died because of him—"

"He saved me," Harry cut in, his voice taking on a growl.

"He stole a gun he didn't know how to use and could have shot you instead.''

Harry turned fully to face him this time, using his height to his advantage, tilting his head down, almost coming face to face with his longtime friend, his eyes fiery and determined. "You're always acting like you know what's best for everyone, Liam. But you don't. You can't control everything. It was one stupid mistake made in the rush of adrenaline. It was just a careless, useless, stupid, and meaningless shag. And now that's all you can talk about? You want to hold it against me?''

''Guys.'' Zayn's voice came floating behind them, forcing their attention to the shop's door.

Harry swallowed visibly when his eyes landed on Louis, standing right behind Zayn, his blue eyes immediately avoiding him in order to look down at the ground. Liam passed next to him and slid himself behind the wheel, and like that, they made their way in the car, Louis staying close to Zayn and not offering any eye contact to him.

From his place on the passenger seat, his gaze remained fixated on Louis's silhouette in the rearview mirror. Louis was seated in the back with his legs drawn up to his chest, encircling them with his arms. His head was turned towards the window, and to anyone paying close attention, it was evident that his gaze held an emptiness and dullness to it. He had transitioned from a lively, animated presence to one that was silent and almost invisible, lost in his own thoughts.

As the car moved forward, Harry found himself torturing the skin inside his cheek, biting down to keep his thoughts and questions at bay. He couldn't help but wonder if he was the cause of this newfound silence, this stasis that seemed to envelop Louis. But, simultaneously, he couldn't shake the feeling that it was also a consequence of the heartbreaking sight of Louis's ruined shop—a place that had been his livelihood, his creative sanctuary, and the tangible result of years of hard work, now reduced to rubble.

The car's engine hummed, and the world outside passed by in a blur. Harry's internal turmoil mirrored the desolation they had witnessed in the now deserted town. It occurred then, that maybe there was nothing left for them to find in the future, that if they were to stumble onto familiar places, all that might remain would be memories and ashes. The latest radio call Liam had managed to make had revealed the location of one of the main survivors' camps: Saint Paul Cathedral. However, it had been two long months since that communication, and in the unpredictable world they now inhabited, nothing remained the same for long.

There were great chances that the camp had been abandoned, its occupants having moved on in search of safer grounds or a more sustainable existence. Alternatively, the grim possibility loomed that they had fallen victim to the relentless horde of infected, becoming one of the very creatures they had fought so hard to avoid. It was a haunting thought that sent shivers down their spines and kept them awake at night, listening intently to every rustle in the dark.

Then there was the possibility, equally unsettling, that the survivors had grown weary of waiting for the promised rescue by the army and had turned to a life of desperation. They might have joined the ranks of raiders, the roving bands of marauders who scavenged and plundered the already devastated city, taking what they wanted by force and sowing chaos wherever they went.

As they moved further into the city centre, the eerie silence enveloped them like a heavy shroud. The once-proud heart of London had become a haunting shell of its former self, with iconic landmarks and historic streets bearing the scars of the apocalypse like wounded memories.

The streets that had once bustled with life now lay deserted, save for the occasional scuttling of rats and the distant echoes of something unrecognisable. A row of double-decker buses, their iconic red paint chipped and faded, had been toppled onto the pavement, serving as grim reminders of a bygone era. They now stood as barricades guarding the hollowed-out remains of shops that had once lined the street. Broken windows revealed looted shelves within, their contents long since plundered by scavengers or carried away by the relentless winds.

Liam parked the car, and the group emerged in silence, the tension among them still palpable. Harry's sole desire was to have a moment alone with Louis, to say something, anything, to break the silence and bridge the widening chasm between them. But as they began to move on foot, Louis positioned himself firmly between Liam and Zayn, not sparing a single glance in Harry's direction.

"I doubt there are still people in there," Liam remarked, finally breaking the prolonged silence as they cautiously proceeded.

The tube signs, once bright and informative, now stood as rusted sentinels of a transit system that had ground to a halt. Layers of old advertisements and graffiti peeked through the peeling paint, bearing witness to the city's descent into chaos. Feral vines and ivy crept up from the underground, reclaiming the metal structures. Graffiti adorned the cracked and crumbling walls, a stark contrast to the desolation that surrounded them. Messages of despair and defiance mingled with colourful, abstract art, creating a surreal landscape amidst the urban decay.

Finally, rising majestically above the urban decay, there it was—the St. Paul's Cathedral. The cathedral's grand dome and exquisite architecture had always been a symbol of London's resilience and enduring spirit, but now it stood as a stark contrast to the surrounding destruction.

From the outside, St. Paul's Cathedral was a mixture of beauty and devastation. The magnificent dome, still mostly intact, soared into the sky, its pale stone facade weathered by time and the elements. Portions of the cathedral's intricate carvings and statues had crumbled or been damaged, yet its grandeur remained undeniable. The famous steps leading to the cathedral's entrance were now littered with rubble, the massive wooden doors that had once welcomed worshippers and visitors alike were ajar, hinting at the eerie emptiness within.

The group stood before the partially open doors of St. Paul's Cathedral, their anxiety palpable in the tense air. Harry's nerves were frayed, and frustration gnawed at him like a relentless itch. Harry stayed behind, watching as Louis made his way closer to the door, feeling an odd sensation in his stomach. Worry. This silence between them had become a void that seemed to echo with what was left unsaid. He couldn't help but feel that something crucial was missing, something that used to bind them together. Zayn was visibly tense, his normally calm demeanour replaced by an edginess brought on by the uncertainty of what they might find inside. Liam remained upset, his earlier argument with Harry still fresh in his mind.

But as he was about to enter, gun in hand, Liam turned around him, and with only a look, Harry understood. He slid in between Zayn and Louis and withdrew his own gun, placing himself in front of his friend, ready to push the door open. Ready to protect. And with a last look to Louis, he pushed the door open.

The interior of St. Paul's Cathedral was a stark contrast to the grandeur it had once boasted. The pews, once filled with devout worshippers and curious visitors, lay toppled and broken, scattered haphazardly across the nave. The air inside was heavy with the unmistakable scent of decay and dampness, a poignant testament to the passage of time and neglect.

"Shit," Zayn muttered under his breath as he made his way down the centre aisle, his gaze fixed upward, drawn to the only intact thing remaining in the dilapidated building.

The grand arches seemed to reach impossibly high into the heavens, their once-white surfaces now tinged with a greyish hue. Broken pieces of tiles and marble littered the ground beneath their feet, a stark reminder of the passage of time and the toll it had taken on this once-sacred place.

Despite the desolation that surrounded them, the group couldn't help but stand still and drink in the sight before them. The cathedral's enduring beauty, even in the face of ruin, offered a fleeting moment of peace and respite amidst the chaos of their world. They knew that they were treading on hallowed ground, a sanctuary that had weathered the storms of history, and for a brief moment, they felt a connection to a past that had been lost but not forgotten. The altar at the far end of the cathedral stood as a stark and solemn reminder of the faith that had once thrived within these walls. Its intricate carvings, which had once been a testament to craftsmanship and devotion, were now marred by the ravages of time and neglect.

Harry, his worn-out sneakers crunching on the debris-strewn floor, rummaged through the remnants of the cathedral's makeshift camp. His fingers brushed against dusty clothes, the fabrics now faded and brittle from neglect. He picked up a tattered sweater and examined it, wondering who had worn it last.

But as Harry searched for useful items, his focus shifted. His gaze locked onto Louis, standing in the centre of the cathedral's grandeur, bathed in the fragmented colours of the stained glass windows. The warm hues of orange, purple, and blue danced across Louis's face, casting a surreal and almost angelic glow upon him. Harry's breath caught in his throat as he watched in silent awe.

Harry’s lips slowly parted, his eyes fixed on the mesmerising sight in front of him as he slowly straightened and stood still, watching, staring. The beauty of the scene before him was almost overwhelming, a strange warmth spreading through his chest, a feeling that both comforted and troubled him. It was as though a dormant part of his soul had awakened, rekindling a long-forgotten sense of wonder amidst the chaos of their survival. He had seen Louis in countless tough situations, but this was different. This vulnerability was laid bare under the cathedral's fractured splendour.

As if sensing Harry's gaze, Louis slowly lowered his eyes from the stained glass and turned to meet Harry's gaze. The intensity of their eye contact sent a shiver down Harry's spine.Breaking away from the enchanting sight, Harry reluctantly forced his eyes to focus on the ground. His heart pounded in his chest as he grappled with the unexpected emotions surging within him.

As they moved further into the cathedral, it became evident that the survivors' camp they had hoped to find had long since moved on, leaving only silence and emptiness in their wake. The group continued their search, scanning the desolate space for any supplies that might aid in their arduous journey.

"There's no one," Liam said, disappointment weighing heavily in his voice, his hand massaging his neck as he sighed in resignation.

Louis, meanwhile, crouched down between two fallen chairs, his fingers closing around a forgotten plush toy that must have once belonged to a small toddler. He looked at the small white and blue bunny, a flood of memories and emotions rushing over him, memories of a time when innocence and laughter filled these hallowed halls. A little girl's laughter echoed in his mind, her dress twirling as she played with the stuffed bunny. A hand on his shoulder made him jump, and he released the toy as if it had burned him, rising to his feet with a disoriented look.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, his concern evident in his eyes.

Louis felt a tumult of emotions swirling inside him, too complex and overwhelming to put into words. He shrugged, a bit too forcefully, causing Harry's hand to slip from his shoulder. "Fine," he replied curtly.

"We should go," Liam's voice cut through the tense atmosphere. The abruptness of it made Harry jump back, as if stung. Louis couldn't help but roll his eyes in annoyance as he brushed past Harry to join the others near the door.

"We should explore a bit more before night falls; otherwise, we'll get stuck here."

Chapter 11: The British Museum

Chapter Text

The British Museum, its grand façade still partially standing, loomed in the distance like a relic of a forgotten era. The white Portland stone that once gleamed has darkened over time, covered in layers of grime and streaked with moss. The massive columns that framed the Great Court entrance now show cracks and signs of decay, as if they have endured centuries of neglect. Scattered debris, broken glass, and shattered museum displays litter the entrance, creating an eerie atmosphere of abandonment with a tattered Union Jack flag faded and torn, hung limply from a shattered lamppost nearby.

The survivors moved with a sombre determination, their eyes scanning for threats and opportunities in equal measure. The wind howled through the empty streets, carrying with it the whispered memories of a city that had seen its glory and its downfall.

The vast interior, usually filled with the hushed footsteps of museum-goers, now echoes with eerie silence, broken only by the occasional drip of water from a leaky ceiling. The once-illuminated corridors are now plunged into darkness, save for the faint, sporadic beams of sunlight that filter through shattered windows, casting eerie shadows on the debris-strewn floors. The museum's expansive chambers, once home to priceless artefacts and masterpieces, have become a surreal wasteland. Fallen art pieces lie scattered haphazardly, shattered into fragments, their former glory reduced to a shattered memory. Ancient sculptures, pottery, and relics are now broken and half-buried beneath layers of rubble.

Navigating this expansive maze of fallen art pieces is a daunting task. The grandeur of the museum's architecture, which once inspired awe, now feels oppressive and disorienting. There are no walls to use as cover; instead, they must tread carefully over the precarious terrain, their every step accompanied by the unsettling crunch of broken glass and pottery.

As they explored the dimly lit and partially ruined interior of the British Museum, they moved in hushed tones. Shafts of pale daylight pierced through holes in the ceiling and gaps in the walls, casting eerie and sporadic illumination on the remnants of art and history that surrounded them.

Harry followed closely behind Louis, his emotions in turmoil and his thoughts jumbled. He desperately wanted to get Louis's attention, to somehow bridge the gap that had grown between them since their encounter in the cathedral.

‘’Listen, I’m not sure what’s happening here. But I—’’

"I loved chess," Louis suddenly said, his voice carrying a note of genuine awe as he gazed at The Lewis Chessmen, a collection of elaborately carved chess pieces dating back to the 12th century. He continued to circle the display, crouching down and studying the intricate carvings with reverence, seemingly oblivious to Harry's attempts at conversation.

"I just wanted to say that I—" Harry ventured, still met with Louis's indifference.

‘’Do you know how to play chess ?’’

Every attempt to start a conversation was met with Louis’ ignorance and Harry tried, really hard, to keep his calm, to not lose patience and to prove himself that he was mature and capable. But watching as Louis was purposely ignoring him, eyes completely drawn to the sculpture in front of him, circling it and not even paying attention to him was slowly making him mad.

"It's so hard at the beginning, but once yo—"

"Louis, for fuck's sake!" Harry burst out, frustration and pent-up emotions finally getting the better of him. His voice reverberated through the empty rooms, causing Louis to flinch away from the art and finally look at him.

At that moment, they both realised they were alone in the room, with Liam and Zayn nowhere in sight. Harry sighed heavily, ran a hand through his hair in annoyance, and struggled to find the right words to convey his feelings without sparking another fight.

"I don't understand what's going on," Harry began, his tone more measured, "I just know I don't like it. I don't think I'm wrong, and I didn't do anything to you, so maybe you could stop doing that."

Louis raised an eyebrow mockingly. "Doing what?"

"Ignoring me."

"I'm talking to you right now," Louis retorted.

"You were ignoring me." Harry did his best to keep his patience from slipping away from him, pinching his thigh and biting his tongue.

"Well, I'm not."

"Why?"

"What?" Louis asked, faking confusion.

"You were ignoring me," Harry repeated, frustration creeping back into his voice. He noticed that Louis was trying to coax the words out of him, to get Harry to admit what had transpired in his conversation with Liam.

Louis shifted his gaze away from Harry and towards the door behind them, his expression changing from annoyance to alertness. ‘’Did you hear that ?’’

‘’Hear what ?’’

Louis narrowed his eyes, seeming to focus on his hearing. Harry tried to listen for a moment, but his patience quickly wore thin. However, before he could voice his impatience, Louis pressed two fingers to his lips and urged him to be silent.

"Shhh," Louis whispered urgently, his eyes focused on the ground, as if he were expecting something to happen.

Harry's mind went momentarily blank as he felt Louis's fingers on his lips, their eyes locking in an almost absurd moment of intimacy amid the impending horror. He stood frozen, his desire not to break the connection between them overriding everything else. The world seemed to slow, the tension thickening the air around them.

"Lou—"

Then, from beyond the door, a faint, guttural groan crawled into their ears. The shuffling of something unnatural, coupled with the ominous sound of glass shattering on the ground, shattered their shared moment. They exchanged a look, eyes wide with fear, before returning their gaze to the ominous door.

Louis moved first, inching toward the door with painstaking caution, trying to make his steps as silent as the grave. Harry followed closely behind, his grip on Louis's wrist urging him to reach the door first. With instinctive protection, Harry positioned himself in front of Louis, unconsciously shielding him from whatever might lurk in the room beyond, his free hand poised to reach for his gun.

"We should maybe call Liam?" Louis's voice, filled with uncertainty, barely broke through the tension. His fingers absentmindedly clutched the fabric of Harry's sweater, seeking comfort.

But Harry's determination to prove himself outweighed his fear. He squared his shoulders and firmly grasped the doorknob. With a controlled twist, he began to open the door.

The room beyond was shrouded in darkness, save for a faint, eerie glow seeping in from behind them. Harry took a cautious step inside, stopped momentarily by Louis's hand gripping the back of his hoody. He waited, listening to Louis rummaging through his bag. Then, Louis produced a flashlight, and with a decisive click, light erupted from it, piercing the obscurity.

The beam of light pierced the gloom, revealing the back of the room. Harry and Louis both froze in place, their gasps filling the air. Harry instinctively took a step back, colliding with Louis behind him. There, at the far end of the room, stood four silhouettes, dark and grotesque. Their swaying forms emitted moans and groans that curdled the blood. As the light fell upon them, their lifeless eyes and slackened jaws came into view.

"Shit..." Louis muttered, anxiety surging through him. His fingers remained tightly clamped on Harry's clothing.

Suddenly, another door on the left side of the room burst open with a violent crash. A grotesque, mutated creature lurched out, its flesh hanging in tatters, one eye missing, and blood oozing from its chest and mouth. It let out a horrifying, guttural scream that reverberated through the walls, shaking the very foundation of the room. In a nightmarish synchrony, the four silhouettes at the back of the room turned toward the new threat. Their slumped shoulders straightened, and their heads snapped up with unnatural speed. Within seconds, they began to move, slowly at first, but then picking up speed as they shambled toward Harry and Louis, their grotesque forms illuminated by the harsh light.

‘’Fuck fuck fuck !" Louis blurted out as he started to run backwards, fumbling with the door behind him and tugging Harry with him.

As soon as they started running, the infected lurched forward, their guttural moans growing louder and more menacing as they closed the gap. The two survivors sprinted into a narrow corridor, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the cold, white walls. They leaped over a fallen marble chest, desperation driving their every move as they tried to reach the relative safety of the main room. Turning around a corner, in his haste and with the slippery floor, Louis almost collided with a sculpture, almost tumbling to the ground before regaining his balance.

They bursted out in the main room, still running with the infected hot on their heels, Liam stood in his path, his face etched with shock and panic as he likely heard the approaching horror. He welcomed Louis when he almost slammed into him, halting his course by holding his elbows, frantically looking behind his shoulders from where Harry came in his view.

"GO!" Harry screamed, urging them forward.

Liam's voice trembled as he questioned, "What—"

"RUN!" Harry's shout left no room for hesitation.

Liam had only a few seconds to react when finally, he saw them. Following right behind Harry as Louis already tugged Zayn away. And like a surreal nightmare, the four of them tore through the corridors, their footsteps echoing like thunder as they fled from the pursuing infected. The creatures, relentless and unyielding, picked up their pace, seemingly growing smarter and more agile with every passing moment.

"UPSTAIRS!" Louis's voice rang out, a note of desperation in his scream.

He vaulted over a fallen chair and charged for the staircase, his fear-driven instincts pushing him forward. In his rush, he couldn't help but turn his head to check on Harry's progress, torn between his instinct to stop and wait for him and the relentless pursuit at their heels. The infected were getting closer, their gruesome moans filling the air and sending shivers down their spines.

Tension, fear, and anxiety coursed through Louis as he sprinted up the stairs, his heart pounding in his chest.

The second floor of the building seemed like a labyrinth, with too many doors and too many choices. The frantic sounds of his friends running and panting behind him only added to his stress. He reached a door and slammed his body against it, pushing it open just enough to usher Liam, Zayn, and Harry inside before he slammed the heavy mahogany door closed behind them. The echoes of infected creatures running up the stairs to join them made their heartbeat quickened.

The three boys were quick and smart to push all their body weights against a heavy and massive glass shelf, holding in itself pieces of ceramics and vase. They successfully placed it against the door, but it would only be a question of time. Louis stared at the doorknob, his breath ragged, afraid that the creatures outside might figure out a way to open it.

"We need to go, quick," Liam urged, already heading toward another door.

"What if there's more in the building?" Zayn gasped as he followed, still trying to catch his breath.

Louis couldn't help but worry about Harry's safety as he walked behind them. His eyes scanned Harry's body, checking for any signs of injury. But as they reached the far end of the room, disaster struck. The heavy glass shelf fell to the floor with a deafening crash. The sound of shattering glass reverberated through the room, causing all four of them to crouch down in shock and surprise.

When they turned, the grotesque creature stood before them, its bloody face contorted into a grotesque mask. Its unnatural muscular body resembled some mutated demon, and it stared right at them with soulless eyes. With the door now completely shattered on the ground, the infected began rushing back into the room.

"Go, go, go!" Louis screamed, scrambling to his feet and taking off once again.

The building seemed to stretch endlessly before them, a maze of rooms, narrow corridors, backrooms, slippery floors, and heavy doors. They ran until their lungs burned, and the number of infected pursuing them only seemed to multiply. Finally, an opportunity arose. They hid behind a massive sculpture, a tall Roman man standing nearly five feet tall. All of them crouched down, desperately trying to control their panting and racing heartbeats. The infected creatures could still be heard, their pace slowing as they searched for their prey in the vast room.

Louis glanced around, searching for anything that could buy them some time to escape this nightmare. A few feet away, he spotted a piece of marble that had likely fallen from the statue they were hiding behind. Setting his bag aside, he dropped to all fours, biting his lips in concentration. Harry's eyes widened as he watched Louis begin to crawl toward the piece of marble, his gaze darting back and forth between Louis and the approaching infected. An embarrassing sound nearly escaped Harry's lips when the moans and groans of a gigantic zombie reverberated from behind them.

With the piece of marble firmly in his grasp, Louis returned to his position, his fingers tightly wrapped around it. He studied the infected, analysing their positions and movements within the room. Holding his breath, he hurled the piece of marble in the opposite direction, diverting their attention away from their hiding spot. The infected creatures turned toward the noise, their growls and hisses growing louder as they stumbled in the direction of the distraction. It was their chance to make a break for it, to leave this terrifying place behind and find safety.

They ran on, their bodies pushed to the limit, aching bones and burning lungs screaming for respite. For the first time since the chaos had begun, they felt like a real team, bound by a common goal and an unspoken determination to stay close to each other. Louis, always the fastest, led the way, darting through the first open door he saw. The last floor of the building greeted them with a different atmosphere. The rooms appeared older and more worn, with wooden ceilings and floors. Unrevealed art pieces and paintings adorned the walls. Zayn hesitated, confronted with doors, some locked and some destroyed. He threw himself against one door, then another, with Liam joining in by kicking it, the door finally bursting open.

"Over there!" Liam shouted, pointing at a gap in the wall that seemed to lead to a room with a balcony—their potential way out.

Harry held a large piece of timber that had fallen from the humid and rotting ceiling. He allowed Zayn to enter first, followed by Liam and then Louis. As he attempted to slide through the gap, the timber shifted, causing a loud collapse. He barely had time to leap back as wooden pieces rained down from the ceiling, crashing in front of him.

Amidst the dust-filled room, a scream pierced the air. Louis, frantic, took a step forward, his heart pounding. But his relief was short-lived.

"Zayn!" Louis screamed, rushing to his friend's side. Zayn had fallen to the ground, the piece of wood having struck him in the shoulder as it fell. "You okay?" Louis asked urgently, helping Zayn sit properly.

"Fuck, Harry!" Liam's voice rang out from behind him, and Louis whipped around quickly.

His heart plummeted into his stomach, his hands going limp for a split second before he bolted toward the makeshift barricade that separated them. The heavy, large piece of timber effectively blocked his path. Harry was stuck, alone on the other side, with no way in. Without wasting any time, his brain working completely by itself, Louis stubbornly wrestled with the piece of timber, his face contorted in frustration and pain. His aching foot was throbbing, and he cursed under his breath while clutching his knee. He was determined to find a way to free Harry, but his efforts seemed to be making the situation worse, threatening to bring the debris down on them all.

Harry, on the other side of the barricade, noticed Louis's struggle and the growing desperation in his eyes. He quickly realised that with Zayn injured and Louis nursing a fragile ankle, Liam would be better off getting them to safety.

"Liam," Harry called out, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest as Louis continued to work frantically. "Take them to a shelter."

"What?" Louis almost screamed, his eyes darting wildly between Harry and Liam. "No way we're leaving without you."

"Liam," Harry repeated, his fingers clenched around the wooden pieces blocking his view.

Liam appeared on the verge of tears, teetering on the edge of breaking down. He glanced down at Zayn, then at Louis, his brown puppy-like eyes filled with apology. Finally, he turned his gaze to Harry. For a moment, the two long-time friends exchanged a meaningful look, communicating without words, their shared history and trust evident. Liam nodded, a faint glimmer in his eyes and a tremble in his lower lip.

"I'll take them to the house we saw on our way here," Liam said, his fingers entwined with Harry's through the wooden barrier. With that, he moved to help Zayn up from the floor.

"What the fuck? No way!" Louis exclaimed, his eyes wide and panicked. His breath quickened, as though he were still running. He looked as Liam went to Zayn’s side, his mouth wide open in shock and disbelief. “Are you fucking serious right now?!’’ He screamed at Liam before looking toward Harry again, eyes shining and red. ‘’We can’t leave him there!’’

Harry wanted to reach out to reassure him, to say something comforting, but the screams of the infected creatures behind him made him jump. He quickly glanced behind him and then back at Louis, only to find those blue eyes already fixed on him.

"Go with him," Harry urged, his voice determined. "I know your ankle is hurting from the running, and Zayn is still half-conscious. He'll need your help."

"But— you... I—" Louis stammered.

"Louis, do you think I could die that easily?" Harry tried to joke, adding a small smirk to lighten the mood.

Louis chuckled, rolling his eyes, but Harry couldn't miss the trembling in his chin, the pain and worry in his eyes. Louis opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by another blood-curdling scream from the creature behind.

"Go," Harry said firmly, "You won't get rid of me that quickly."

Louis rushed toward Liam and crouched down to help him slide one arm around Zayn's waist. Together, they hoisted Zayn up, both of them wincing at the audible groans of pain that escaped his lips as his injured shoulder was moved. They took a few moments to make sure Zayn was stable, their worry evident in their eyes as they exchanged glances with Harry.

Harry watched them from behind the wooden barricade, his heart heavy with mixed emotions. He gulped, visibly trying to maintain a brave face despite the fear gnawing at him. The sounds of running footsteps and the approaching infected grew louder, and Harry knew he had to act quickly.

With a last, forced smile, Harry took his gun in hand and, with a determined nod, disappeared back into the museum, leaving Louis and Liam to protect Zayn and find safety.


It was an odd feeling.

While he wouldn't describe his relationship with Harry as friendship, the circumstances the four of them had endured together over the past six months had forged a bond between them. They had saved each other's lives countless times, cared for each other, and become a kind of mismatched family.

Leaving the museum behind, holding onto his wounded friend while the sounds of gunfire and groans of infected filled the air, tugged heavily at Louis's heart. Tears threatened to fall down his cheeks, and he couldn't help but risk a glance at Liam, only to find his face already wet with tears.

The emotions that washed over them were a strange mix of fear, guilt, and grief.

Once they managed to bring Zayn to a shelter, a small townhouse tucked away in an alley, Liam helped them by holding up a heavy metal garage door, letting it close securely behind them. They didn't waste time searching for supplies or talking. Liam gently seated Zayn on the sofa, and Louis immediately started rummaging through his bag, searching for what he needed to tend to the wound. He fought to steady his trembling hands and keep the lump in his throat at bay. With a crunch of his nose and a clench of his stomach, he went to work on Zayn as Liam helped him out of his shirt.

A nasty, purplish bruise had already taken over a large portion of Zayn's shoulder and side, and there was little they could do to alleviate his pain. Liam found some painkillers in the bathroom and quickly administered three white pills with the last of their water. Once Zayn had his shirt back on, they all sat there in the dimly lit room, silent and lost in their thoughts, the adrenaline rush and the weight of what had just happened settling in.

Finally, a soft sniffing sound came from the sofa. "I'm so sorry," Zayn choked out, leaning forward and hiding his face behind his hands. "It's my fault."

Louis couldn't handle it—the tears, the words—it felt too final, too painful. So, he let Liam kneel down and comfort their friend while he made his way further into the house, heading for the kitchen. He opened cabinets and drawers, grabbing any edible items he could find.

Only a few minutes passed before he heard the door behind him close. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was, and he couldn't bring himself to deal with it just yet.

"Zayn fell asleep," Liam's voice came from behind him, his tone tinged with exhaustion.

Liam's words reached Louis's ears, but his anger and frustration surged through him like a torrent of venom.

He turned around abruptly, his eyes filled with hatred. "Why did you leave him? You didn't even try!" Louis shouted, his voice filled with anger and disbelief. "I thought he was your friend, you've known each other since childhood! How could you do that?"

Liam's mouth fell open slowly as he absorbed each of Louis's words, his eyes still shining with unshed tears. Louis knew it wasn't entirely fair to unload his anger on Liam like this, but it was the only way he could keep his sanity at that moment.

"He's going to make it," Liam said, though his voice wavered, and his own tone sounded uncertain. "He's strong and smart. He knows how to survive."

Louis couldn't find it in him to respond. It felt profoundly unfair that he was safe in a house while Harry was out there alone, possibly injured and fighting against creatures with no sign of hope. The tears threatened to return, his nose tingling, and his eyes stinging.

"Zayn is hurt. Your ankle is hurting. I'm exhausted from all the running. There was nothing we could have done—"

"We could have tried," Louis interjected, his voice sharp. "You always talk about being a team, being united, being loyal. Yet you were so eager to leave him."

"I'm not proud of it," Liam admitted, holding Louis's gaze. "But it's the safety of the group before the individual."

"Bullshit," Louis scoffed, his palm grazing his face to release some of his anger. "I don't know what you two are hiding, I don't know what's going on, but that's bullshit."

Louis grabbed a box of cereal from the kitchen, leaving behind cans of ham and chips from Liam and Zayn to do as they pleased. Louis's mechanical movements carried him up the stairs and into a bedroom. He tore the curtains down to plunge the room into darkness and threw his backpack onto the floor with little regard for anything else. Entering the bathroom, he shed his clothes and used the last remnants of water to wash his face and cleanse his skin with a cloth.

From a closet, he retrieved a pair of joggers that were too large and a simple, thin shirt. Dressed in these oversized clothes, he climbed into the unmade bed, ignoring the musty smell of unwashed sheets, the dust, and the peculiar, damp odour of the lived-in place. Exhaustion weighed heavily on him, his body aching, and his injured ankle sending sharp sparks of pain through his leg. But sleep remained elusive. It felt wrong to be in bed, drifting off to sleep while Harry was out there, alone in the darkness.

Unable to control it any longer, Louis allowed a single tear to slide down his cheek, then another, and soon, the floodgates opened. He let everything out, curling up under the blanket, his body trembling as he cried. Months of fear and despair had finally caught up with him. He thought of his mom, his sisters, his friends, and then, most prominently, Harry. It was all too much. Exhausted and emotionally drained, Louis eventually succumbed to sleep, his tears continuing to fall even as he drifted into slumber.

In the middle of the night, or so it seemed, Louis’ eyes shot open.

His heart raced as he realised he was not alone in his room. The faint creaking of the wooden floor and the distant sound of a hushed breath sent shivers down his spine. He lay perfectly still, every nerves on edge, trying to discern any further movement. His fingers slowly clenched around the handle of the knife hidden under his pillow, the cold metal providing some comfort in the darkness. He waited, every second feeling like an eternity, until suddenly, the bed dipped behind him, right next to his thigh.

With a lightning-quick reflex, Louis sat up, blindly grabbing at the intruder next to him by the back of the head. In one fluid motion, he flipped the knife open, its blade now pressed firmly against the intruder's throat. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes adjusted to the blackness of the room, and he felt the warm breath of the person in front of him brushing against his chin. A gasp got stuck in his throat when he finally realised.

Harry was right there, under his hand and against his knife, looking down at him with an equal mixture of shock and relief in his eyes. Their gazes locked, searching, yearning, and a wave of emotions washed over him—relief, anger, and frustration all intertwined.

"Told you, you couldn't get rid of me that easily," Harry whispered, his voice strained and trembling.

To be honest, Louis had half a mind to follow through on his initial instinct and stab Harry right in the throat, just to wipe that infuriatingly smug look off his face. But also because he hated the new beating of his heart, the weird tingling feeling on his fingertips and in his gut. The rush of relief was almost overwhelming, knowing that Harry was safe and sound, right here in his room. It was a strange sensation, one he didn't want to admit to himself—he hated feeling this way, happy and relieved, just because of Harry's presence.

They continued to stare at each other in the silent house, their breaths mingling in the stillness. Harry had a small cut under his eye, a bit of dirt on his clothes, but he was otherwise unharmed. He was here, breathing the same air, and looking down at Louis with a mixture of relief and something more, something unspoken that hung in the air between them.

Louis threw everything out the window, every caution and restraint, and threw the knife to the side, letting it fall down with a thud as he surged forward, pulling Harry in by his hair, their tongues connecting before their mouths did.

Immediately arching into him and bringing their chests together, Harry climbed fully onto the bed, still on his knees. With fast and trembling hands, Louis helped him out of his hoodie, flinging it carelessly behind him, Harry taking his lips immediately once he was free of it. He was quick to push Louis down and covered him with his body, one hand gripping his neck to deepen the kiss, the other sliding down his waist and grabbing his thick thigh, hiking it up against his hip.

They kissed recklessly, always fighting for dominance as Louis rolled them over to be on top, only for Harry to slam him back down only seconds later.

An odd feeling overcame Louis, the need for something else, something more pulling at his chest and making his blood boil in his veins. With a moan and a hard bite on Harry's lower lip, he moved them around once more, making sure to push down on Harry’s chest to keep him in place.

"Ah,'' Harry hissed, his face contorted in pain, like he was wounded beneath his shirt.

Louis halted when he was completely situated on him, his thighs cautiously embracing his hips and guaranteeing he wouldn't move. He peered down at the man under him, at his messy and red lips, bitten raw and bloody by him. He wondered for a second if Harry was truly hurt, and with a tilt of his head, he pushed on his shoulder once more, making Harry groan in pain.

"I hate you,'' Louis said while leaning down and kissing him hard, teeth and tongue dissolving against one another.

"Mh,'' Harry nodded in the kiss, his hands travelling on Louis’ back to finally roughly grab his ass, using the force of his core to sit up and press himself even closer, ''I know,''

Taking advantage of his position, Louis let his hand roam down his chest, silently appreciating the muscle fluttering under his touch. Without too much ceremony, he unbuckled his belt and also took care of his button and zipper. Panting and groaning against each other, he let go of his sinful mouth, pushed Harry back on the sheets and slid down his body, placing himself in between his legs.

From his position on his elbows, Harry gulped audibly, ‘’I didn’t wash u— Fuck.’’

Harry's head fell down on the pillows, slightly hitting the wooden headboard behind him as he exhaled a loud breath. Louis took him in his mouth without hesitation, bringing his cock right down his throat with a small gag. He immediately started a quick rhythm, overwhelmed by the sound coming out of Harry's mouth.

''Oh fuck,'' Harry whispered in a moan, one of his hand coming on his thigh while he parted his legs more, the other coming up and gripping at the headbord.

Humming low, Louis didn't relent. He kept bobbing his head, letting his tongue play with his slit and gathering the precome, only to take him down again and again. His eyes fell on the veins of Harry's hand and how his nails were digging in his own skin. He grabbed it and brought it to his own head. Harry scratched his scalp and gripped his hair at the back of his head, his hand guiding Louis' rhythm faster.

''Shit,'' Harry moaned, using more force to guide Louis down on him, keeping him there and pulling him up, eyes rolling back in his head and thighs twitching. ''Fucking— shit.''

The noises coming down from between his thighs were way too sinful to be legal, making his orgasm gather in his gut way more quickly than usual. He felt himself shiver, his body starting to shake.

"Louis,'' He moaned, trying to push his head away, only for Louis to moan louder and take him down, swallowing around him. "L— fuck, fuck, Lo— god,''

Harry arched his lower back and shot hot into his mouth, eyes clenched shut and hand almost pulling at the headboard, making it creak with a loud sound. Louis pulled his mouth off almost completely, sucking at his head one last time before raising on his haunches.

Panting, his stomach rising and falling down with each breath, Harry let his hand fall limp from the headboard, pushing his hair out of his face to finally look at Louis.

He was still kneeling between his bare legs, eyes wild and dark, the blue of his irises completely impossible to discern in the darkness of the room. He studied him, a new wave of hunger and lust coming within him. With a quick tug, he threw Louis on the bed next to him and came to lay on him.

‘’I fucking hate you.’’ He growled at him before lunging forward for Louis’ neck.

Louis padded through the silent townhouse, rubbing his arm sleepily with one eye barely open. He stumbled against a wall before finally finding his way to the kitchen, where Zayn was already wrestling with a non-cooperative toaster.

"There's still electricity?" Louis croaked, his voice rough from sleep as he cleared his throat and absentmindedly played with his Adam's apple.

Zayn turned to him, his eyes puffy and slightly red from exhaustion. "We'll see," he replied in a small voice, plugging the toaster into the wall and waiting for it to glow red.

Liam followed behind, being careful not to brush too closely against Louis as he joined Zayn at the counter. He grabbed the coffee powder and water, taking a mug from the cupboard. Louis noticed he only took three mugs, and suddenly, the events of the previous night came rushing back to him. He opened his mouth to warn them about what he had encountered but was interrupted when someone approached from behind, and a deep, low voice echoed in the room.

"Morning," Harry said casually.

One by one, Liam and Zayn turned around in shock. Liam let go of the coffee, his jaw literally hanging open in disbelief. Zayn nearly whimpered, letting his emotions show for the first time as he rushed towards Harry. He welcomed him awkwardly, bending slightly to pat Zayn's back, looking at Louis with a mixture of uncertainty and relief.

"When—" Liam began, turning to face them, "When did you come back?"

Harry scratched his head awkwardly, giving them a timid smile. "In the middle of the night."

‘’What happened ? Are you—’’ Zayn cleared his throat and slowly detached himself from Harry, hugging himself, ‘’Are you okay ?’’

“I used Louis’ technique.’’ He answered, leaning against the counter, ‘’I distracted them until I could get out, then I had to find my way back here in the dark. And that was it.’’

It was clear to Louis that Harry was simplifying what had happened to him, likely to prevent them from worrying too much. Louis could vividly remember the relief on Harry's face when he had finally reached the safety of the house and how Harry had gently patted his chest during the night when he was overcome by nightmares.

Liam stood there in silence, his jaw clenched tight, and he turned away without responding, grabbing another mug for the coffee. "I hope cold coffee is good enough," he said firmly as he used the water to dissolve the coffee powder.

The atmosphere in the room felt heavy and tense, with Zayn glancing back and forth between Harry and Liam before tugging at Louis' arm. "Can you help me with my shoulder?" he asked, clearly using it as an excuse to leave the room. Harry felt like he was back to a few days ago when he and Liam had a fight. He braced himself, expecting to be scolded when Liam finally turned to look at him. However, Liam didn't speak; instead, he fixed Harry with a cold and disappointed look, silently waiting for Harry to start.

"What do we do now? The survivors were supposed to be in the Cathedral. Where do we go?" Harry asked, his impatience growing as he searched for answers.

Liam remained silent yet again, maintaining his accusatory stare.

"What?" Harry finally snapped.

"You could have died," Liam said, repeating his concern and pressing further. "And the first thing you do when you're back isn't coming to tell me you're alive; it's going into his room?"

Harry groaned, realising that his actions had been more transparent than he had thought. He sighed and brought his palms to his face. "God, Liam. Are you going to do this every time?"

"I don't know," Liam responded, placing his mug on the counter. "Is it going to happen every time?"

Harry was about to retort with a sharp comment when Zayn returned to the room, eyeing them curiously. He moved quietly, taking two mugs and leaving the room without saying a word.

"Listen, I don't owe you anything," Harry retorted, his words far from diplomatic or pleasant. "You should try to live a little before we all die." With that, he grabbed his coffee and left the room, leaving behind a lingering tension that seemed impossible to resolve.

The mood of the group was undeniably sombre. Three months of preparation, hope, and anticipation had led them to believe they were about to join a large group of survivors gathered in the cathedral, offering food, supplies, and clothing. Now, all their hopes had been shattered, leaving behind disappointment and helplessness. They had no plans, no ideas, and no optimism. They sat in a circle around a small coffee table in the living room, where Zayn had prepared a pot of plain white rice as best as he could. With their fingers, they ate the rice and munched on cereal bars they had stashed in their bags. A heavy silence hung in the air as each of them stared down, lost in thought, searching for a solution.

Then, Louis suddenly lifted his head and stopped chewing, his mouth half full.

"I have an idea," he said, spitting a nut onto Harry's thigh, who sat directly across from him.

"Jesus, be careful, it's disgusting," Harry grumbled and retaliated by throwing the nut back at Louis's forehead. Louis responded by flipping him the middle finger before turning to Liam.

"My mate, Luke, he lives in Camden. He has two cars, and he took one to leave."

Liam looked at Louis, waiting for more information. When Louis didn't elaborate but continued to stare at him with an excited expression, Liam frowned. "Okay? So?"

"So, there's still one car we could take. And I have the keys."

"And where would we go?" Harry interjected, his tone bored and disinterested.

"Well, we need to go somewhere. We can't just stay here and rot, waiting for that giant thing to come for our brains."

"Wouldn't have a lot to eat with yours," Harry mumbled between bites of rice.

Louis almost got up to confront Harry and give him a piece of his mind, but Zayn's hand firmly gripped his knee, silently urging him to stay seated. Zayn knew where this was heading. "Louis is right," Zayn began, "We can't stay here and wait. There must be a place with people. We need to try."

Liam's gaze shifted intensely between Zayn and Harry, his expression conflicted. It was a risky and uncertain proposition to travel in these conditions, with limited supplies and the ever-present danger of the infected. With a small encouraging smile from Zayn, Liam finally nodded.

"Okay." He got up and retrieved his bag.

Bringing it to the table, Zayn rose onto his knees and removed the large bowl of rice from the table while Harry still had one hand reaching for it, his mouth still full and a frown on his face. With the table clear, Liam laid out a map, and they all gathered around it, with Harry now hugging the bowl of rice close to his chest.

"So, we are…" Liam began, searching the map, his fingers swiping and rolling across it, "here." Zayn marked their location with a red marker. "And the shop is?" He turned to Louis.

"Here," Louis replied, pointing to the small point on the map that indicated Camden.

"So, we would need to go all the way up here. We might have to go through King's Cross."

"Why don't we go through Regent's Park?" Zayn suggested from the side.

"Too dangerous to walk through the park for that long. We won't have any place to hide if we get attacked," Harry quickly replied.

"We should go there first, for more food and clothes," Louis proposed, pointing a bit lower on the map. "If we're lucky, we might find a crappy car to drive up. If not, we might have to resort to the tube."

"The tube? It's blocked, in case you haven't realised," Harry snapped.

"He's right," Liam's firm voice cut through the argument, his glare directed at Harry. "The infected in central London are more dangerous and numerous. We might be quicker and safer if we go down."

They exchanged determined looks, newfound confidence and their alliance providing a glimmer of hope. Harry glanced at Louis as he got up to wash his hands, and then he told Zayn that he would help him pack. Harry had to admit that Louis was probably one of the reasons they had managed to stay sane and entertained throughout this ordeal.

Without him, he wasn't sure what state they would have ended up in.

Chapter 12: Soho

Chapter Text

The place Louis had designed on the map was the Liberty, an old building reconverted into the famous and luxurious department store they used to know. It seemed like a great place to find new clothes and to explore the area around it for some food. They would also soon need water and supplies. The walk from the house they had stayed to the mall was short, but filled with obstacles. From a faraway distance, they sometimes could make some groan and inhuman scream, always reminding them what was waiting for them if they were not quick.

Louis didn't spare too much attention on Harry, his mind a mess of confusion and frustration. He didn't really understand how every time, his body would betray him, but at least, he knew that Harry was in the same predicament. Using this small walk, and the fortunately good weather of the morning, he strolled next to Zayn.

"What's going on with you and Harry?" was the first thing Zayn asked, and oddly, Louis didn't find it annoying.

He sighed, hands firmly stuffed into his pockets, looking straight ahead as they slowly walked on the pavements. "I still hate him."

Zayn laughed, nudging him with his elbow. "Do you, though?"

"Just some... hate sex. It's very common." Louis said as he reached for the cigarette in his pocket and placed it between his lips, giving one to Zayn and helping him to light it. "What about Liam?"

The smile on Zayn's face fell slightly, his cheeks hollowing as he took a long drag on the cigarette. "He's complicated."

Louis answered with a knowing snort.

"I feel like he doesn't really assume that he likes boys."

"Did you find out what he was doing before all that?"

"What do you mean?"

Louis checked behind them to see if there was enough distance between them and the others before speaking again, the smoke falling from his mouth. "I mean, he and Harry have never talked about before. They all know about us, but we know nothing." He flicked the ash to the ground. "It's weird, no? Where are Liam's parents? Why did they leave their house and their shop?"

Zayn seemed to be thinking about it, brows furrowed and head tilted. "I don't know, I never thought too much about it."

"It's weird, man. It's like they have something to hide. Do you know what I mean?"

Zayn stopped walking, only to gaze at Liam from the distance, watching as he was talking with Harry, a small smile on his face, something rare that they could only see on some occasions.

Louis stopped as well, turning in his direction and sighing. "Oh, you've got it bad, don't you?"

Zayn only poked his tongue at him and wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling him with him as they kept walking.

Louis took another drag from his cigarette, "I mean, we've all been through so much together, but there's still so much we don't know about each other."

Zayn nodded, his expression thoughtful. "You might be onto something there. Maybe they've got some skeletons in their closets, things they don't want to talk about. You think they're hiding something big?"

Louis shrugged, his shoulders tense with uncertainty. "I don't know. All I'm saying is, we've been through hell and back together, and we barely know each other's stories. It's just odd, you know?"

Zayn looked back at Liam and Harry, who were still engaged in conversation, their bond seemingly growing stronger with each passing day. "Yeah, it is odd. But maybe they're just trying to leave the past behind. Maybe they've lost people they cared about, just like we have."

Louis took one last drag from his cigarette before tossing it to the ground and crushing it beneath his boot. "Yeah, maybe."

Zayn nodded in agreement. "We've all got our demons, after all."

Louis grinned and gave Zayn a playful punch on the shoulder. "Look at you, being all deep and philosophical. Who would've thought, huh?"

Zayn chuckled and shoved Louis back. "Hey, I've got my moments.”

The more they walked, the more Louis found himself falling behind the three boys, lost in his thoughts as he watched their backs while they engaged in small talk. He gazed at the horizon, noticing the park on the other side of the road, where trees and grass had reclaimed their rightful forms and lives. His hands were stuffed into his pockets, and he lifted his head to look at the clouds, wondering if his family was seeing the same sky at that moment.

He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't notice Harry approaching him, walking silently at his pace.

"What do you want?" Louis finally broke the silence, focusing his attention on Harry to ward off the dark thoughts creeping in.

"Nothing," came Harry's deep voice in response.

They continued to stroll, appreciating the calm and respite of the day. Louis suddenly stopped abruptly.

"What?" Harry asked, stopping next to him almost immediately.

They were walking on a slightly elevated road, something like a small bridge, and Louis was sure he heard something coming from beneath it. He got close to the edge, using the low wall to hide his body from whatever was below. There, he saw a man on his knees, raising his hands in the air, while two other men pointed guns at him. Louis gasped, grabbing Harry's arm to push him against the low wall and hide them. He used the wall to peek at what was happening, with Liam and Zayn too far away to realise they had stopped.

"What's happening?" Harry whispered-shouted at him, trying to rise on his feet to peek down as well.

Louis observed the scene, recognizing the two armed men as Raiders. They had their backs to him, wearing stolen military uniforms. He focused on the shivering brunette man on his knees, trying to piece together the situation.

"Please, I swear I didn't mean to," the man said, his voice trembling as he struggled to keep his hands raised.

"We have orders, Horan," one of the Raiders replied.

Louis retreated behind the wall, took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and wrestled with himself to make a decision. He didn't have to think for long. When he opened his eyes, he cracked his neck and looked at Harry.

A beat passed with Harry staring back at him, and then realisation dawned in his eyes. "No, no, no."

Liam's urgency was clear as he questioned the unfolding situation when he finally joined them, Zayn always at his side. His eyes darted anxiously between Louis and Harry. "What's happening?" he asked urgently.

Zayn added to the urgency, "We need to get out of here."

Louis turned his intense gaze towards Harry, silently imploring him to understand his determination. He couldn't bear the thought of an innocent man losing his life when he had the power to intervene.

However, Harry was resolute, grabbing Louis by the arms and trying to pull him away. "No, absolutely not," he insisted.

Louis resisted, knowing that their continued struggle could expose them to the armed men below and jeopardise not only their lives but also the life of the innocent man. "We can't abandon him,"

Zayn took a quick, decisive action, leaning forward and crouching down, compelling the others to follow suit. His wide-eyed expression conveyed his alarm as he turned to Louis, nearly shouting, "Are you out of your mind? There might be more armed men down there."

"I have to do this," Louis asserted.

Liam, growing frustrated, pinched his forehead and muttered under his breath. He reached out and grabbed Louis' shirt, determined to put an end to what he saw as recklessness. "Stop this; we need to leave."

Louis sighed reluctantly, allowing Liam to lead him away, but his gaze remained fixated on Harry. As he slowed down, allowing Liam and Zayn to move ahead, he seized a moment of opportunity. As Harry passed by him, he swiftly turned and sprinted towards the nearby wall.

"Fuck," Harry muttered, following Louis without hesitation, while Liam shouted after them.

With both hands on the low wall, Louis relied on his arm strength to leap over it and land stealthily at the bottom, just a metre away. He quickly sought refuge behind a nearby car, as Harry's landing was nearly soundless as well behind him. Liam's curses could be faintly heard, but Louis was too focused on the task at hand.

Louis carefully assessed the situation, observing the two men with their backs turned to him and Harry. He scanned the area to determine if more adversaries were present. Once he was confident there were only two, he glanced back at Harry.

"You're insane," Harry mouthed, to which Louis responded with a defiant middle finger salute. Then, he cautiously peeked out from behind the car.

He waited, trying to get the brunette man's attention. His heart pounded, afraid that the Raiders might shoot before he could intervene. But the man on his knees finally noticed him, and when his eyes started widening, Louis brought his fingers to his lips to signal that he was there to help.

Slowly, Harry and Louis crawled out of their hiding place, each crouching their way toward the Raiders. The tension was palpable as they knew that timing was crucial, and their hearts raced with the fear that the Raiders might notice them. But in a moment of remarkable coordination, Louis and Harry simultaneously reached out from behind, seizing the Raiders by their throats and applying pressure until they fell unconscious.

Panting, Louis let the man fall to the ground without any further look at him, making his way to the kneeling man. When he saw him approach, he raised his arms to shield his already bruised face.

"Please, please,'' He begged with a sob.

Louis slowly crouched down, letting a few inches in between them. "It's okay, I'm not one of them.'' He said, ''Are you okay?''

He heard the running footsteps behind him, already rolling his eyes and letting Harry pick him up harshly from the ground. He immediately put his body in between Louis and the man, shoving him backward. ''Are you out of your mind?!'' He shouted.

Soon enough, Liam and Zayn joined them, Liam taking side with Harry and glaring at him. But before Liam could say something, Zayn's voice interrupted all of them and made them turn toward the sound.

"You're okay,'' Zayn said, helping the man to rise from the ground and patting his knees to approximately clear his trousers from the dirt and the dust. "What's your name?''

The man slowly raised his head, looking at Zayn with fear and hesitation, before he looked at Liam, Harry, and finally Louis. He assessed them, taking in their normal attire, their backpacks, and probably the small bruise on Harry's face. "Niall,'' He said in a breath, standing at his full height.

Liam was quick to take a step forward, taking out his gun. ''Explain,'' He said to him without any hint of kindness or patience, making Louis roll his eyes once again with a sigh. Harry nudged him hard with an elbow, and Zayn put his hand on the gun to lower it, with a menacing look at Liam.

"What happened to you? Why did they want to kill you?'' Zayn asked, soft and gentle.

''That's how normal humans talk, by the way,'' Louis whispered at Harry, earning himself a nasty glare.

"I-'' Niall started, ''My brother. It's,'' He chuckled nervously, shaking his head. ''He decided to join them. But, I didn't know what they were doing at first. They had food, so much of it. And clothes and clean sheets and shelters. But, but then... They are completely out of their minds. They think they rule the world ! I tried to run away but they got me.''

Liam didn't look convinced at all, and Harry was biting on the skin of his thumb, furtively looking around them for safety.

Zayn, maintaining his calm demeanour, asked, "Do you know where they're based? Can you tell us more about their plans or any important information that might help us?"

Niall nodded, his eyes darting around nervously. "Yeah, I overheard them talking about a high school not far from here. They said it's heavily guarded, and only the top members know its exact location. Said it was full of meds and weapons as it was used by the army when all of this started. As for their plans, I don't know much, but they were talking about recruiting more people and expanding their territory."

Liam's guard was lowered slightly, but he remained cautious. "Why should we trust you? How do we know you're not working with them?" he questioned, his jaw clenched.

Niall's eyes welled up with tears as he pleaded desperately, "I swear, I'm not one of them anymore. They were going to kill me too. Please, you have to believe me."

Harry, who had been silent until now, finally spoke up. "Let's keep moving. We'll take Niall with us for now, but we'll keep a close eye on him. If he betrays us, we won't hesitate to defend ourselves."

Liam was about to respond, likely with another sharp retort, given the anger evident in his clenched jaw and furious eyes. However, the sound of approaching footsteps and pebbles crunching underfoot made them all fall silent. Louis turned around with wide eyes, and Harry mirrored his movements. They waited in tense anticipation, hesitantly taking a step back.

Suddenly, as if from nowhere, three armed men emerged. Their eyes locked onto the group, and they shouted, likely to alert more of their comrades, raising their guns.

"Get down!" Liam screamed, practically yanking Zayn and Niall back to seek cover behind a nearby wall. At the same time, Harry pushed Louis forward to take their place behind a car.

With trembling hands, Louis fumbled in his bag, retrieving the guns they had with them. He turned hastily to Harry, slapping his arms urgently. "Give me the gun."

Harry hesitated for a moment, but as a gunshot struck the metal of the car, ricocheting dangerously close to his body, Louis slapped him again. "Now!" he nearly screamed, the urgency of the situation demanding immediate action.

Using the car as their makeshift shield, Louis and Harry positioned themselves at either end of it, their hearts pounding in their chests. Louis felt a surge of uncertainty as he placed his trembling fingers on the trigger. He had never used a gun with the intention of taking a life before. When he had used one in the past, it had been solely to save someone, primarily Harry, and he hadn't had the luxury of contemplation. Now, with the opportunity to consider the gravity of the situation, hesitation coursed through his veins as he aimed at the first Raider he spotted.

In contrast, Harry displayed no hesitation or remorse. Each shot was fired with deadly precision, his determination unwavering. However, the sheer number of Raiders was overwhelming. Louis watched as some of them broke away and gave chase to their friends.

Inside the abandoned pharmacy, Zayn fought valiantly to hold the Raiders at bay. More accustomed to small knives and his baseball bat, he struck down the first man who barged in, using the element of surprise to his advantage. When a second attacker approached, Liam sprang out from the corner and swiftly incapacitated him with a knife, causing Niall to yelp in terror.

The trio fought desperately for their lives. Niall, lacking a weapon, resorted to throwing anything within reach at their assailants to defend himself.

As the Raiders continued to press them, their numbers began to overwhelm Zayn, Liam, and Niall in the confined space they had sought refuge in. Zayn shielded Niall with his body, while the brunette crouched against the wall, hiding his face in fear.

Liam managed to fend off three attackers, but when a fourth assailant came at him, he was too slow to react. A blow to his jaw was swiftly followed by a punch to the gut, sending him sprawling to the ground and eliciting a shout from Zayn. Liam struggled to rise, realising that his gun had slipped from his grasp. As he reached for it, a Raider in heavy boots stepped on his hand, causing him to scream in agony.

With the barrel of a gun aimed at his head, Liam braced himself for the inevitable. He couldn't move, his body paralyzed by fear. With bated breath, he awaited the end.

Suddenly, a loud thud and a groan made him flinch. When he looked up, he saw Louis gripping the Raider by the throat, strangling him from behind and swiftly thrusting his knife into the man's side, silencing him forever.

Speechless, Liam watched as Louis reached out to help him to his feet, wrapping his arm around his waist. With Louis's support, he was able to stand, and together they began their escape from the chaos they found themselves in.

Exhausted and battered, they finally stumbled into Liberty, the weight of their harrowing escape weighing them down. Harry summoned his last reserves of strength to push the heavy doors closed behind them. Zayn and Niall, drained of energy, collapsed onto the floor, and Louis carefully seated Liam on a small bench.

In the room's silence, the only sounds were their ragged breaths and occasional groans of pain from their aching bodies. Louis leaned against the wall, closing his eyes, allowing his breath to steady. When he reopened his eyes, he noticed Niall staring into the distance, his face pallid and shocked. Zayn clutched his shoulders, likely still feeling the aftermath of his wound. Harry sat on the floor, attempting to regain his composure, while Liam, with his wrist clenched, was fixated on Louis.

Suddenly, Louis' heart skipped a beat as Liam rose from the bench and moved toward him with clenched fists and fury eyes.

Three heads snapped at the movement, and Harry was quick to rise from the ground, stumbling toward them. Surprisingly, it was Zayn who reached Louis first, interposing his body and forcefully pushing Liam back. Zayn's eyes were dark with anger, a level of fury no one had ever witnessed from him before.

"Don't." he declared, almost bringing his forehead against Liam's in a confrontational manner, guarding Louis fiercely.

"That can't keep going," Liam protested, attempting to push past Zayn with a hint of defiance. However, Zayn remained resolute, his gaze locked onto Liam's as he challenged him. "Do you know what you just walked into?! Do you realise we could have all died? What the hell is wrong with you?!""

Louis watched, his heart pounding so loudly that his fingertips tingle. He tried to speak, but Liam continued to berate him with an accusatory tone. "I told you ! I fucking told you to stop and just listen! What the hell?"

"I... We couldn't just watch him die!" Louis screamed back, pointing at Niall. "What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you?! Why do you always act like a superhero when you crumble at the thought of fighting?"

Liam let out a dark laugh. "You just stroll around all day making jokes and complaining, you do fucking nothing ! Oh no, sorry, I forgot, you open your legs at every fucking corner!"

The room fell into an oppressive silence, and Louis felt as though a heavy weight had crushed his chest. Zayn shot Liam a menacing look, tilting his head in a defiant challenge, daring Liam to say another word.

"Stop acting like you're better than me," Louis muttered under his breath.

"Pardon me?" Liam asked impatiently.

"Stop acting like you're better than me," Louis repeated, louder and darker, pushing off the wall and stepping behind Zayn. "You want to call me a whore? Is that it? A slag? Well, go on then. But don't forget to tell everyone how you've been shagging Zayn from day one."

The moment the words left Louis' lips, Liam reached for his collar and delivered a punch straight to his jaw. The room erupted into chaos, a flurry of limbs and shouts as everyone rushed to separate them.

When Louis straightened himself, clutching his throbbing jaw and suppressing a groan of pain, he saw Harry pinning Liam against the wall, their faces inches apart and their gazes filled with anger.

"Don't fucking touch him," Harry spat at Liam.

Unable to contain the flood of emotions welling up inside him, Louis turned away from the scene. He made his way toward the nearest staircase, using the last reserves of his energy to run as fast as he could and disappear into the mall, leaving everyone behind.

Zayn acted decisively, forcefully pulling Harry away from Liam and creating a significant distance between them as he stood firmly between the two.

"ENOUGH!" Zayn's scream cut through the tense atmosphere when Liam attempted to lunge at Harry once more. "I'm so fucking done with your bullshit." He ran a hand through his hair in a futile attempt to contain his anger. "I am going to find him. I swear to god, or whoever is listening right now, that if something happens to him, I'll lock both of you outside and watch you turn into those fucking zombies. Understand?!"

The room fell into a heavy silence, no one daring to speak or move. Niall stood there, caught in the middle of the room, nervously biting his nails. Without another word, Zayn quickly followed after Louis.

The silence that enveloped the room after Zayn's departure was suffocating, each member of the group grappling with their own emotions and thoughts. Niall felt utterly lost amidst their complex dynamics. He was unsure of how to stand, what to say, or even how to react. Something was itching on the tip of his tongue, desperate to be voiced, but he bit at his thumb's skin to keep it contained.

Harry stood there, panting heavily, his eyes fixed on the spot where Liam had been just moments ago. He seemed immobilised, clearly struggling to keep his emotions in check. Liam, on the other hand, was in a state of turmoil, possibly even more upset after being physically restrained by his friend in front of everyone and scolded by Zayn, who had never displayed anger towards anyone in the eight long months they'd been together.

A slamming door from somewhere upstairs made Niall flinch, and he couldn't help but retreat to a small corner near a shoe shop, waiting anxiously for what would happen next. And sure enough, Zayn returned, tossing his backpack to the ground and fixing his steely gaze on Liam. Without much preamble, he forcefully pushed Liam back against the wall.

"I don't want to hear a fucking thing," Zayn declared, his tone commanding but not raised to a shout, yet still enough to silence Harry and Niall. "You go over there, and you do your best to apologise. I don't care if you have to beg or kneel. Do whatever the fuck you can. Because trust me, if Louis leaves, I'm out of here with him."

With a final disdainful look, Zayn shoved Liam in the direction of the stairs. Liam quickly obeyed, not uttering a single word, moving like a defeated puppy with its tail between its legs.

Harry wanted to inquire about the situation, to express his concern, but he felt a deep sense of trepidation. Zayn's demeanour was daunting, and he was hesitant to speak or even make eye contact. However, as the sound of a closing door resonated through the mall, Zayn turned his attention to Harry, causing him to freeze and nervously bite his lip.

"And you," Zayn began, taking two steps to stand directly in front of him. "I don't know what stupid game you're playing, but you can't keep acting like a fucking hero while treating him like shit every day."

Harry swallowed hard, taking a few moments to carefully choose his words before asking, his own voice sounding unusual to his ears, "What do you mean 'If he leaves?'"

Zayn didn't mince his words, his frustration evident in his tone. "Thanks to your fucking macho act, Louis wants to leave on his own. He said he doesn't want to stay with us anymore." Before Harry could offer a retort, Zayn raised a finger to forestall him. "And he's fucking right. Since day one, you and Liam have been treating him like he's some kind of disease, as if he's not the bravest and the strongest among us. Like he didn't save your life, and like he hasn't been trying to fix this damn radio for us.’’ Zayn sighed heavily, but he wasn’t done. ‘’And I let it slide when you called him a meaningless shag, a mistake, cause it was not my fucking business. But you know what? He was right. You are a fucking asshole. And he was right when he said you're hiding something. I don't know what or why, but I don't fucking care anymore. If he's gone, I'm out too."

Harry blinked repeatedly, his gaze following Zayn's silhouette as the older man retrieved a pack of cigarettes from his inner pocket and headed for the other side of the room, toward an exit. Despite his concern for Zayn's safety in the volatile world outside, Harry remained rooted in place. His eyes met Niall's, the newcomer looking round and taken aback, and the young man pursed his lips, averting his gaze as if he had witnessed something he wasn't supposed to see.

Not even ten minutes had passed when Liam returned, his expression defeated, his shoulders tense, and his brow furrowed, clearly bearing the weight of failure on his face. Harry paced anxiously, an unusual sight for him, and Liam's presence only seemed to magnify his discomfort.

Liam settled on a bench next to Niall, slumping down and causing the brunette to squeeze himself against the wall to create enough space. After a lengthy silence and a heavy sigh, Liam finally spoke.

"He won't listen to anything," he admitted with a defeated tone.

Harry couldn't help but snort in response.

Liam appeared to be searching for his words, running his hands through his hair and over his face, then exhaling deeply. "He... he wants to leave. He's trying to find a way out through the roof."

Harry abruptly halted his pacing and turned to face his friend. All the anger and reproach he had been prepared to unleash died in his throat, and he suppressed a distressed sound.

"I tried to apologise, but he wouldn't even let me speak. He threatened to shoot me if I got too close."

"Well, that's a pretty normal reaction." Niall’s sarcastic remark slipped out without thought, catching the attention of both Liam and Harry.

"I mean, he did save you down there," Niall continued, his tone measured. "He could have ignored it, but he didn't. I don't know what kind of... friends you guys are, but I've been here for not even an hour, and you two have already yelled at him more than once."

Niall's observation hung in the air, highlighting the rift within the group and the discord that had been brewing beneath the surface.

Harry stood behind the heavy metallic exit door, his fingers absentmindedly torturing his lips as he stared down at his feet. Convincing Louis to change his mind seemed like a nearly impossible task, and he knew that he might be the last person Louis would listen to. However, he couldn't just let Louis go without trying to reason with him.

And as soon as he opened the door, Louis was right in front of him, poised to step into the building. With his backpack already on his shoulders, and the hood of his black hoodie pulled low over his face, he looked ready to leave. His eyes were puffy and red, and the heavy scent of cigarettes clung to him.

Harry moved to block Louis's path to the left, but Louis attempted to go around him. Harry swiftly mirrored his movements, effectively blocking him once more. Louis let out an exasperated sigh and tried to push Harry out of the way with a strong shove. But Harry only responded by gripping Louis's wrist and pushing him back onto the rooftop, the door slamming shut behind them.

Louis started to fight back then, pushing, shoving, using his fists against Harry's chest, and tugging at his clothes to break free. The more he struggled, the more Harry saw his eyes welling up with tears, causing his heart to tighten uncomfortably in his chest.

"Stop it," Harry implored, his voice soft and gentle. "Louis."

"Let me—" Louis's voice trembled with frustration. "Fucking go."

Harry attempted to control his body to remain still, but Louis's determination only grew stronger. He pushed Harry hard against the door, causing Harry's head to thud against the metal with a wince. Yet, Harry still didn't let go. He sensed the panic and anger surging within Louis, threatening to become uncontrollable. In a desperate move, Harry abruptly released Louis's wrists and instead placed both his hands on Louis's face. He cupped Louis's jaw and cheeks and tilted his head upward. In a swift motion, Harry pressed their lips together in a firm, closed-mouth kiss, forcing Louis to stay still against him.

Gradually, he felt the fight drain from Louis's body. Whether it was shock, surprise, or something else, he couldn't be sure. He sensed Louis's fingers unclenching from his shoulders, his racing heartbeat gradually slowing, and, finally, his body becoming still.

Harry waited, his lips numb from the prolonged kiss, and then, ever so slowly, he pulled his head back while still cupping Louis's face. He opened his eyes to find Louis staring at him with wide, red, and glossy eyes. Harry willed his racing heart to slow down and licked his lips. "You're done?" he asked, his tone a mix of impatience and wonder, raising an eyebrow.

Louis's lips parted, perhaps to make a snarky comment as he often did, but instead, he simply nodded slowly and whispered, "Yeah."

"Good," Harry replied, his voice soft, and he made no move to let go of Louis.

A beat passed between them, perhaps longer than it should have given their circumstances and their close proximity, but neither seemed to mind. Eventually, Louis stepped away from Harry and let his backpack slide off his shoulders, allowing it to fall to the ground. He walked toward the rooftop's edge, running his fingers through his hair with a sigh.

"I'm done," Louis said, but Harry could tell he meant something more than just their earlier confrontation. "Do what you want, but do it without me."

Harry pushed away from the door, taking a step closer, his brow furrowing. "You know you can't do that. Where would you even go?"

"I'd find my friends," Louis replied, turning to face Harry. "I'd find people who don't try to belittle and insult me every time I fucking breathe."

Harry winced, realising he might have undone the calm he had achieved earlier.

"You went straight into a raider camp without even thinking, just to save a guy you don't even know," Harry argued.

"Here we go again," Louis retorted with a forced laugh, grabbing his bag and moving toward the door.

"You could have died!" Harry shouted, following Louis and trying to reach the door before him.

"Why would you care, huh?" Louis spun around so quickly that Harry almost collided with him. "If you hate me so much, then let me fucking go! Let me be someone else's problem!"

"You don't fucking get it, do you?" Harry yelled back, grabbing Louis's backpack and turning him around to press him against the door. "I don't want you to be someone else's problem. That's the fucking problem here! I want you—" Harry stopped himself, his words escaping before he could filter them. He searched for what he wanted to say, what he could admit at this moment, hoping it would be enough. "I want you to be my problem."

Harry's confession seemed to hit Louis like a bolt of lightning. He stood there, frozen, as if struggling even to draw a breath. Harry observed as the anger and sadness in Louis's eyes slowly dissipated, giving way to a mix of incomprehension and something that bore an uncanny resemblance to fear.

"You're not making sense," Louis finally uttered, his voice almost a whisper.

"Nothing is making sense anymore," Harry replied solemnly.

As Harry and Louis descended back into the group, they tried their best to ignore the shocked expressions on Zayn and Liam's faces. Louis still kept his face hidden under his hood, and his hands were firmly tucked into his pockets. He pretended to be fascinated by the high ceiling and the array of clothes still displayed in the luxurious mall he had never had a chance to shop in before.

"Well," He began, clearing his throat as he felt his voice waver slightly. "What now?"

Unexpectedly, Liam let out a sigh of contentment and relief, surprising even himself. He slouched on the bench, partially leaning on Niall, who gently tapped his thigh in a reassuring manner. This gesture caught Liam off guard, but he allowed it to happen. The tension that had been hanging over the group seemed to ease just a bit with Louis's return.

The first floor of the store had already been thoroughly ransacked, so they decided to head upstairs to the third floor. The darkness inside was so thick that they had to rely on their flashlights to see. To help Niall feel more secure, Louis handed him a knife with a sympathetic smile. There, they found rows of clothing racks with untouched apparel. Zayn, unusually enthusiastic, leaped onto the hangers, pulling out several items in search of his size.

"So, you're Irish?" Louis asked casually, attempting to shift the conversation and ease the focus off himself.

Niall nodded. "Yeah, but I've been in London for half of my life now."

Zayn followed up with another question. "And what did you do, or used to do?"

"I was an engineer," Niall replied.

Louis gave a low whistle, impressed. "Well, look at that. A smart one, then."

Niall chuckled at the comment, and Louis led the way, the two of them searching for new clothes. Niall was eager to change out of his dirty and worn attire, and this diversion allowed Louis to put some distance between himself, Harry, and Liam. He didn't spare them a glance and tried not to dwell on the blossoming bruise on his jaw.

In a relatively silent atmosphere, they wandered through the store, choosing clothes that allowed them to express their individuality, a refreshing change from the scavenged and worn-out garments they had relied on while squatting in abandoned buildings.

After what felt like a significant amount of time, they had all changed into their new attire.

Harry and Liam had stuck to their usual black jeans and jumpers, with Harry adding a hoodie and Liam opting for a heavy coat. Zayn found himself torn between two pairs of slim jeans, while Niall settled for basic denim, a thick jumper, and a suede jacket. Louis, on the other hand, had fallen in love with an orange coat resembling a bomber jacket, complete with numerous pockets. It was bulkier than what he was used to, but it promised warmth and ample storage space. They had all swapped their shoes for sturdy hiking boots and packed extra socks, underwear, and cotton shirts into their bags.

As they prepared to descend the stairs, the sudden sound of a hanger clattering to the ground from a floor below stopped them in their tracks. Louis instinctively looked at Harry, a peculiar sense of reassurance passing between them. They stood frozen, tension palpable in the air as they waited for another sound. Gradually, they descended the stairs, each of them retrieving their chosen weapons. Zayn still held onto the baseball bat, Louis had his trusty jackknife, while Liam and Harry were armed with guns, and Niall clutched his modest meat knife.

Suddenly, the piercing sound of shattering glass erupted from behind them. Whipping around, they were met with a horrifying sight: a horde of infected had burst through a shattered storefront window.

"Go!" Liam shouted, panic gripping his voice as he broke into a sprint. The others didn't need any more urging. Adrenaline surged through their veins as they bolted down the stairs, their flashlights bobbing wildly.

The infected, grotesque and twisted versions of their former selves, clawed and lunged at the fleeing group. Harry fired his gun, taking down one of the infected with a headshot, but more poured in to replace it. Niall swung his small meat knife with desperation, slashing at any approaching threat.

Louis was almost overtaken as a zombie grabbed his coat, but Zayn's baseball bat came crashing down, crushing the creature's skull and freeing Louis.

They reached a landing, gasping for breath, and saw their path blocked by debris and more zombies closing in. There was no turning back; they had to find a way out. They sprinted through the narrow alleys of the shop, forced to split into two groups due to the constraints of the confined space. Louis led the way with Liam and Niall following closely, their pace too rapid for the others to keep up. But their desperate flight came to an abrupt halt when more infected suddenly materialised in front of them.

"Shit!" Louis screamed, panic gripping him. "Retreat, they're coming this way!"

They stumbled backward, tripping and slipping, only to collide with Zayn and Harry. The group was cornered, surrounded by infected closing in from both directions. Liam and Harry emptied their gun magazines, firing rapidly in a desperate attempt to hold back the relentless horde.

Niall's panic was palpable, his head darting left and right, his breath ragged, and his eyes wide with fear. In a frantic search for a solution, he grabbed at Louis' bag and began rummaging through it.

"What are you doing?!" Louis yelled in a panic.

"Do you have alcohol? Disinfectant, anything flammable?" Niall urgently asked.

Louis racked his brain, searching for something, and then he remembered Harry's bag.

"Harry's got some," he shouted.

Niall struggled to make his way toward Harry, standing right behind him as he continued to fire his gun into the approaching infected. Niall retrieved a bottle of disinfectant from Harry's bag and crawled away from their besieged position. His hands trembled with fear as he rifled through cupboards and drawers in a small coffee stand he had found. Finally, he discovered what he needed. He emptied the contents of a glass bottle and transferred the disinfectant into it.

"Niall!" Liam called urgently. "Hurry!"

Niall gasped, panicking, making it difficult for him to focus. Once he was done, he climbed onto the bar and stood there, leaping over the horde of infected that was steadily closing in on his position. He lifted his jumper and used his teeth to grip the hem of his shirt, tearing it with a groan. Forcing the cloth into the bottle, he used the lighter he had taken from Louis' bag and ignited it.

"DOWN!" he screamed at them before hurling the flaming bottle in the opposite direction.

The bottle shattered on the ground, the cloth igniting and exploding into a massive fireball, casting huge orange and red flames into the air. The spectacle was enough to attract the infected, who rushed toward the sound and light, pushing and groaning in their frenzy.

It was only a matter of time until the infected realised what was happening and the flames began to subside.

"Over there!" Harry yelled, his heart pounding.

Their flashlights scanned their surroundings as they ran toward an emergency exit sign. Harry smashed the fire alarm and pushed open the heavy door. They all burst into a dimly lit alleyway behind the mall, gasping for air, hearts racing. They quickly pressed their backs against the door to keep it closed. The horde of infected slammed against the exit door, their guttural moans filling the air.

"Wait," Louis panted, still struggling to catch his breath.

With Liam's help, he pushed a heavy dumpster through the building and wedged it against the door as soon as Harry, Zayn, and Niall moved out of the way. The door was blocked, but they knew it wouldn't hold for long.

"Let's go," Liam urged.

They didn't waste a moment and kept running.

Chapter 13: Camden

Chapter Text

Dawn broke, casting an eerie light on the desolation that had befallen Regent Street. The once-bustling centre of London's commerce and culture had transformed into a ghostly reminder of what was lost. The absence of human life was palpable.

The group, exhausted and hungry, ventured cautiously into the forsaken realm. Their faces were etched with weariness, their bodies bearing the brunt of relentless running and fear-induced adrenaline. Cold winds pierced through their tattered clothing, leaving them shivering and vulnerable in the predawn chill. With stomachs growling and limbs heavy, they embarked on a scavenging mission. Each shop they entered felt like a relic of the past, a time when people browsed these shelves with leisure, oblivious to the impending catastrophe. Their search was driven by desperation, and they grabbed whatever supplies they could find, paying no heed to personal preferences.

In a stroke of desperation, Niall suggested breaking into a Pret a Manger, hoping to find even a morsel of edible food. Harry, utterly drained, slumped against a chair, struggling to catch his breath. The group's focus shifted when a thunderous roar echoed through the sky, a reminder that danger was never far away. They hastily filled their bags with whatever provisions they could lay their hands on, Niall relentlessly babbling, laughing and making jokes.

‘’Niall,’’ Harry croaked with his head still pressed on the table, ‘’Just get us something to eat, anything. But please, stop talking.’’

That caused Louis to turn around from his position, half on the counter to be able to reach the top cupboard, giving Harry a quick glance, simply to assure he was fine. Niall nodded, eyes scanning for the room and disappearing to the storage.

Later, they all emerged from with heavier bags, Zayn holding a bag of frozen toast in his hand and munching on a cereal bar. Niall had his arms full of jars of jam, Nutella, and a bag of bagels dangling from under his arm, while Louis struggled to balance bags of coffee beans.

"Hey," Niall called as soon as they were out of the shop. "There's a computing retailer shop over there. I could go and try to grab some stuff, maybe find a way to make electricity work or something."

Liam seemed hesitant, glancing toward Harry for guidance. But Harry, clearly exhausted, remained slumped against the door frame of the big shop, lost in thought.

Sighing, Liam finally nodded and asked, "Okay. How long do you need?"

"Not much," Niall replied. "But we'll probably need two cars."

Liam frowned at the car requirement, but Niall quickly justified it. "To stock all this food, and the clothes we took. So I could put more things in my bag. There's a pharmacy down there; you guys could go fetch some stuff."

After a beat of silence, during which Liam seemed impressed by Niall's planning, he looked in the direction Niall indicated and agreed, "Okay. I'll go for a car, Zayn, you go for the pharmacy, and Louis, you try for a car as well."

As Liam started to make his way toward the cars, Zayn headed in the direction of the pharmacy. Louis grabbed his sleeve and came closer, lowering his voice. "Try to find an inhaler."

Zayn seemed surprised, not really understanding the purpose of it, but when Louis squeezed his wrist, he simply nodded.

"I want everyone here in fifteen minutes, not more," Louis instructed.

Louis rolled his eyes, knowing that they had no way to measure time accurately. Still, the urgency of their situation left no room for argument, and they all scattered to complete their respective tasks.

Louis, Liam, Niall, and Zayn returned to the coffee shop, each bearing the fruits of their scavenging efforts. Louis had managed to secure a vehicle for the group. Liam, arriving in the second car, brought additional space for storing their newfound supplies. Niall, however, appeared with his backpack full with a hodgepodge of electrical cables, wires, and small gas cylinders, his eyes alight with joy as he hugged a huge carton box in his arms. Meanwhile, Zayn, the last to return, clutched his bulging bag, two packs of adhesive plasters stuck between his teeth, a scarce resource they could not afford to overlook.

As they gathered in front of the coffee shop, Harry had resumed his seat, his coughs ringing out in the damp air, his face contorted in discomfort. Louis felt an immediate pang of concern for his deteriorating condition. He took it upon himself to retrieve the inhaler from Zayn, casting a worried glance back at Niall, who was still assisting Liam and Zayn in attempting to cram all their newfound supplies into the car's trunk.

"Niall, why on earth did you bring a microwave?" Liam muttered under his breath, the first droplets of rain starting to fall around them.

Louis approached Harry, shoving the inhaler in his back pocket. He nudged Harry with his foot, not wanting to overtly display his concern. When Harry raised his head, Louis tossed a bottle of water onto his lap and motioned towards the car behind them with a nod of his head. He then turned and headed for the driver's seat.

Within moments, the passenger door swung open, and Harry settled into the seat beside Louis.

With the car window rolled down, Louis leaned his head out and raised his voice, trying to make himself heard over the increasingly heavy raindrops. He shouted to the others, who were still engrossed in a lively discussion about the usefulness of their scavenged items and their findings.

"Follow me, alright?" Louis yelled, hoping to divert their attention to the urgency of their situation. The rain began to fall more heavily, and Liam let out a final exasperated curse before slamming the trunk shut.

"For heaven's sake, Niall, why did you bring a guitar?!" Liam's voice carried from the back, filled with frustration.

Louis started the car, the engine purring to life as they embarked on the next leg of their journey.

Driving on a road strewn with trash and overturned cars proved to be a challenging task, made even more difficult by the heavy rain and the ominous crash of thunder that reverberated around them. Louis gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white as he navigated the treacherous path ahead.

Beside him, Harry attempted to stifle his persistent coughs, clearing his throat and shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Louis had grown tired of his attempts to conceal his condition and tossed a water bottle onto his lap, his expression stern and unyielding. The coughing ceased as Harry reached for the inhaler, his eyes fixed on it for a prolonged moment before he turned to Louis, a mix of shock and gratitude in his gaze. Louis chose to ignore the unspoken question, keeping his focus on the road ahead as they continued their journey.

"You didn't plan on telling us you had asthma?" Louis finally broke the silence, his tone laced with a hint of annoyance.

"Not that important," Harry replied weakly.

Louis snorted in response, rolling his eyes without offering further comment. As they drove, they eventually reached a clearer road, the soothing sound of rain falling on the car providing a sense of tranquillity. Louis found his gaze drifting towards Harry's profile, seemingly unable to control the impulse.

"Stop staring," He chided without even glancing in Louis's direction, his fingers toying with the inhaler.

"I'm not," Louis retorted sharply, though he wasn't entirely convincing.

"You can't take your eyes off me."

"I'm just imagining all the ways I could snap your neck."

Harry's throat emitted a loud honk of laughter, his hand slapping his thigh in amusement. Louis jumped in his seat at the unexpected sound, his expression contorting in disgust.

"Jesus, even your laugh is horrible,"

"Oh, come on," Harry teased as his laughter subsided, giving way to another round of coughing. "I'm making your days better."

"No offence," Louis began before tilting his head and reconsidering. "Actually, full offence. But every time you speak, I want to hurl myself out of that fucking car."

The silence settled between them once more, but this time, there was a small, shared smile on Harry's face, and Louis couldn't help but fight back his own grin.

Louis was grateful that his memory hadn't failed him when it came to finding the way to Luke's house. Although he suspected it was only so vivid in his mind because he had spent more time at his friend's house than on his own before the lockdown. As they approached the house, his heart clenched at the thought of revisiting old memories. He worried about what he might find and whether his friends were safe in this new world.

However, Harry's voice broke him out of his reverie. "How did you know about asthma?

"You were breathing like a fucking pig for an hour," Louis retorted, the sharpness of his tone unintended. He cleared his throat and corrected himself, "Um. My mum was a nurse. Well, she used to be."

"Oh," Harry replied simply.

"Mm."

Louis couldn't help but wish for the minutes to pass more quickly, hoping to avoid any more probing questions.

"Um, you have sisters, right?"

"Yeah. Four," He confirmed, his eyebrow lifting in surprise. Harry knew that already, they had talked about it during their six months isolated back in Stratford. Was Harry trying to make small talk with him ?

‘’It’s a lot."

"And my mom is pregnant, with twins,"

Harry shifted in his seat and adjusted the car's heating system, his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth. "Doncaster, right?"

Louis nodded, feeling a lump form in his throat, which prevented him from swallowing. He wrinkled his nose in discomfort.

A beat passed, and then Harry spoke again. "Cheshire."

Louis's head almost snapped towards Harry, his eyes filled with questions. Harry nodded, his tone sombre. "Holmes Chapel."

A strange warmth washed over Louis as he realised that Harry was sharing this information with him without any prompting. It was a stark contrast to their earlier days when Harry had been so secretive about his past. Louis searched for something to say, a million questions clamouring in his throat. But instead, he opted for his usual defence mechanism—humour.

"So, you're properly posh then," Louis teased. ‘’No wonder why you’re a prick.’’

As they reached their destination in the heart of London, the city that had been hit hardest by the virus and the transformation of the infected, they found a ghost town before them. They easily passed through the quarantine checkpoint, leaving their cars parked in front of the apartment building.

Exiting the car, Louis made a conscious effort to push aside any memories or bitter feelings that threatened to surface. He donned his backpack and headed toward the other car to assist with unloading their supplies. He had to rummage through his bag to find his keychain, but he managed to keep his emotions hidden. However, when they reached the building's entrance and saw the main glass door shattered and the letterboxes in disarray, Louis swallowed hard. His heart pounded loudly in his chest, and his hands grew clammy. Leading the way, he guided everyone up four flights of stairs until they reached Luke's apartment door. He paused, keys in hand, hesitating for a brief moment before swinging the door open.

There was no point in turning on the lights; it was evident that electricity and water had long been absent from this part of town. They deposited their supplies in the hallway of the apartment and Louis headed straight for the living room. Fumbling with the TV stand, he retrieved a pack of candles and placed some in the kitchen and others on the large table behind the sofa. One by one, he lit the candles, gradually casting a warm glow over the room.

Zayn placed his flashlight on the entryway console, directing it towards the couch to provide more light. They worked together to bring everything closer to the sofa.

"So, is there a basement or access to the rooftop?" Niall asked Louis directly, just after depositing a large cardboard box near the kitchen. Liam, still frowning, almost carelessly dropped a guitar case on the ground.

"Uh," Louis cleared his throat, the lump in his throat growing heavier. "Yeah, there's a basement. You won't need the keys."

Niall took the flashlight that Zayn had left behind and without another word, he disappeared from the flat.

"Alright, let's unpack and organise what we've got, and then, let's bloody eat," Liam declared, cracking his fingers in anticipation.

"Fuck yes," Zayn chimed in eagerly.

Louis watched his newfound "friends" as they moved about the apartment, a place that had once been a sanctuary of memories and laughter. Echoes of past moments filled the air, as if his old friends were still present, laughing and living their lives alongside Zayn, Harry, and Liam. He could almost see Oli's energetic antics, Stan's reckless antics in the kitchen, and Luke's drunken escapades leading him to the bedroom.

But all at once, the anger and injustice he had been harbouring since joining this new group crashed over him. Every time he contemplated leaving, something held him back. Right now, the throbbing bruise on his jaw, a result of Liam's outburst, made him acutely aware of the pain, both physical and emotional. The weight on his chest, the ghosts of his past, and the feeling of not belonging were overwhelming.

Silently, he unpacked his bag, carefully placing his belongings around the kitchen, trying to avoid dwelling on the memories that clung to them. When he spotted his own mug in the cabinet, it felt like a stab to his heart, but he pushed the sadness away, ignoring Liam and Harry, determined not to let the darkness cloud his mind.

‘’Hey, Lou.’’ Zayn called behind him, shrugging his jacket off. ‘’What about the beds ?’’

With his back to him, Louis kept himself busy, arranging the canned food they had brought with them on the counter. ‘’Um, there are two bedrooms, with two double beds. And the sofa folds out.’’

‘’Sick.’’

Suddenly, Niall came back from wherever he had disappeared, ‘’Water should be back, I’ll take care of the lights tomorrow, I’m knackered.’’

Dinner remained a quiet affair for Louis. He sat on the floor next to Zayn and Niall, toying with his food without any appetite. Liam's hurtful words continued to haunt him, and he couldn't shake the thought of what might have happened if the roles were reversed. Would Liam have saved him, or would he have been left to die?

Harry, sitting across from him, picked at his food, casting glances at Louis. He understood that things had taken a dark turn, and he felt a weight of responsibility for their current predicament. He couldn't ignore Louis's inner turmoil, which he knew was well-hidden beneath the surface. He hated this side of Louis, the silence and distance that had replaced their usual banter.

When Louis met Harry's gaze, a mixture of anger and vulnerability flickered in his eyes. It was a silent exchange, but the tension between them was palpable.

"I think we could go and see what the other flats have for us," Liam suggested, the meal having seemingly rejuvenated his spirits.

Zayn sighed but quickly agreed, glancing at the simmering tension between Louis and Harry. "Yeah, that's a good idea."

They rose slowly, Louis and Harry standing without breaking their intense eye contact, eyes darkening with a strange blend of desire and resentment.

"Harry, are you coming?" Liam asked, slinging his now half-empty bag over his shoulder.

Without breaking their gaze, Harry shook his head. "No."

Liam froze, his gaze darting between the two of them, sensing the brewing storm. He grimaced and looked at Zayn, who nodded, silently urging him to leave it be. "Okay... um, well, see you," Liam mumbled before heading for the front door.

"Niall, are you sure you're not coming?" Zayn asked, pressing Niall, who was still nursing his beer and scratching his chest.

Niall frowned at Zayn's tone and followed his gaze toward Louis and Harry, who remained locked in their statuesque standoff. As he took in their clenched jaws, tight fists, and darkened eyes, realisation washed over him, and he scrambled to grab his bag.

"Bye, guys!" Niall called out hastily as he rushed to close the door behind him, leaving behind an apartment filled with simmering tension and unspoken words.

As Louis and Harry found themselves alone in the apartment after the others had left, the tension between them reached a breaking point. The silence was deafening, and the air was thick with unspoken grievances. Louis couldn't bear it any longer. He felt trapped in a cycle of constantly proving himself to Harry, only to be met with criticism and belittlement. He took a deep breath, but before he had any chances to break the silence, Harry beat him at it.

"You're not leaving."

Louis was taken aback, his lips parting slowly in shock. He opened his mouth to speak, trying to justify himself, to say something, but nothing came except his anger.

"What's your problem with me?" Louis finally asked, his voice trembling with frustration.

They maintained unbroken eye contact, both seemingly locked in a battle of wills.

"Pardon?" Harry replied, his tone cold and challenging.

"What's your problem with me? What did I ever do to you, or Liam, to deserve this?" Louis's breath quickened as his anger intensified. "I told you already, if you think I'm such a worthless mess, I can leave. Easy. Problem solved."

"I thought you were over it. It's—" Harry's voice faltered.

"Over it?" Louis exclaimed. "It was just this morning, Harry. Look at my bloody face!" He pointed at the bruise left by Liam's fist.

"He apologised!" Harry yelled back.

‘’How does that make it okay ?!’’ Louis yelled this time, the veins on his neck prominent as he raised an accusing finger in the void. ‘’How !?’’ He asked again, the volume of his voice so loud, it broke.

Harry seemed to recoil slightly, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to respond. "You throw yourself into danger without thinking. It could put everyone at risk. Liam's reaction was only because he..."

"Because he what?" Louis interrupted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Was worried about me? Stop bullshitting me, alright? The guy can't wait until I'm caught by one of those bastards and get my brain eaten."

"Don't say that," Harry's voice was stern, almost a command. Louis shivered, feeling a chill down his spine. ‘’Don’t talk like that.’’

"Don't talk like what?" He challenged, their eyes still locked in a silent battle. "Like I don't know that you all hate me? Like I don't know you took me out of pity and now you regret it? Come on, Harry, admit it."

Harry's face contorted in anger, his teeth clenching in frustration. "I don't."

Louis sighed, shaking his head in disappointment. He wanted to keep arguing, to say so much more, but he decided to let it go. "I don't regret what I did. I'm glad I saved Niall, Liam, and even you. The only thing I regret is believing in you when you said we were all a team."

He turned and stormed into the dark bedroom, the only light being the one coming from the window, from the moon half hidden behind the cloud, pushing the door closed behind him. But when he didn't hear the door latch, he frowned and turned around, still holding his balled-up shirt.

"For fuck sake," he muttered. "You can't leave me alone, can you?"

Harry pushed away from the door frame and entered the room fully. "You always run away when I'm talking to you."

"That's because you're not talking to me," Louis shot back. "You're sermonising me, not listening to what I'm saying, and you never question yourself. You act like everything I do is wrong and everything you do is right. You and Liam are exactly the same."

With that, and in the hope that Harry would leave him in peace, Louis walked into the bathroom, flicking on the light and facing the mirror. As he began to unbutton his trousers, he noticed Harry standing behind him in the reflection. He clenched his jaw and bit his tongue, thumping his foot on the ground to keep from exploding with anger. The constriction in his chest tightened as he felt the presence of Harry looming behind him.

‘’Why can’t you just let it go ?’’ He asked as their eyes met again through the mirror.

When Harry didn’t answer, he decided to simply pretend he wasn’t there, hoping that it might push him to back off and leave. He turned away from the mirror, contouring Harry and bending to remove his socks. As he was about to pull his trousers down, Harry caught him by the elbow.

“Fucking—’’

Harry turned him around forcefully. ‘’You’re not leaving. Zayn wouldn’t have it. And he would probably even follow you. I will talk to Liam. And I—’’ He hesitated, looking down for a second before licking his lips. ‘’I’m sorry, okay ?’’

Louis winced at the half-hearted apology and even more at the mention of Zayn. Harry couldn’t even bring himself to admit that, in some way, wanted him to stay. But he couldn’t deny the fact that hearing the word ‘sorry’ coming from his mouth didn’t do anything to him. He pulled away harshly, freeing his elbow and returning to fumble with his trousers, letting them fall down.

“Louis, would you just listen—’’ Harry warned, fighting against himself to not follow the path of light brown hair disappearing inside his boxers when Louis turned around. ‘’—to me.’’

‘’My name must taste good, because it’s always in your mouth.’’ Louis spoke, closer to Harry’s face, his eyes fixated on his lips, just because. With that, he took his underwear off and then simply turned around, stepped into the tub, turning the water, his back to Harry.

And Harry stood there, his eyes slowly tracing the route from Louis’ nape down to the two dimples at the base of his neck, swallowing heavily when they landed on his ass before the curtain cut his sight. Infuriated by how easily Louis could change moods, manipulate situations with just a look of his stupid blue eyes and above all, fuck with his mind. Louis always had a way of getting under his skin, and Harry always seemed to fall for it.

He stared for a moment at Louis' silhouette through the curtain, and how he could still determine his curves. Cursing himself mentally, Harry grabbed the collar of his t-shirt at the back and pulled on it, making quick work of the rest of his clothes, and stepped behind him.

In the corridor of the apartment complex, Niall trotted happily behind Liam and Zayn, the trio navigating the remnants of the once bustling residential area.

"So, how long have you been together?" Niall asked, his curiosity evident as he peeked into a flat, scanning for any salvageable items.

Liam choked on his own spit, abruptly halting and nearly stumbling, while Zayn turned to face Niall with a raised eyebrow.

"We're not?" Liam clarified, a hint of surprise in his voice.

"Oh," Niall paused, his cheeks coloring slightly. "I thought, you know, with the looks and all."

"We're not," Zayn reiterated, his tone more assertive this time, before he proceeded to step over a fallen door into an open flat.

Liam scratched his neck awkwardly, standing alone with Niall. His eyes darted around as if searching for an escape from the conversation.

"Well, I'm sure things between Harry and Louis are going to be okay. Friends can fight too, right?" Niall continued, following Zayn into the abandoned flat.

Zayn, occupied with rummaging through a drawer in search of useful items, had to suppress a laugh at Niall's assumption. Liam audibly groaned, and Zayn intentionally chose not to respond.

"Yeah, yeah," Liam mumbled, heading straight for the kitchen to inspect the cupboards. "They are good friends. Like, brothers."

Louis shoved Harry against the cold tiled wall, revelling in the gasp that came from his mouth and the way his nails sank into the small of his back. "Say it.'' he spat against his plump moist lips as Harry's dark green gaze locked on his mouth.

"What?" he murmured, nearly moaning, between two strained breaths.

"Say you want me to stay."

Harry's gaze shifted to his, his chest heaving, his body glistening, and his hair clinging to his neck. Because of the hot water, their bodies were flushed against each other, slick skin sliding together. Louis could see the struggle in his eyes, how he was on the edge of giving up.

So he purposely let his hands run down his back, fingertips skimming his spine, barely touching the flesh, maintaining eye contact as he pulled their faces even closer. He smirked as Harry arched his back against him and slightly spread his legs, letting his fingers linger at the curve of his ass.

''Your eyes are already saying yes, now I just need your mouth to tell me the same.' He demanded and at the same time he bit at Harry's bottom lips and pressed one finger against his hole, his other hand grabbing his hair to tug at it and force his head to tilt in an almost painful angle.

Louis' toes curled on the floor as Harry let out a loud broken moan, goosebumps rising over his skin. His thoughts couldn't figure out how they went from bickering to this, but he didn't complain. At least not right now.

''You-'' Harry said, looking down at him with his head still awkwardly leaned back, Adam apple bobbing as he swallowed, ''you would miss me if you left.''

Louis paused for a few seconds, torn between wanting to laugh at his stubbornness and wanting to slap him in the face. He went with the latter.

Harry whimpered once more at the smack, his nails burrowing into Louis' slippery back.

''You never stop talking, don’t you?''

"Well, you can do something about it, don’t you?" He said mockingly with a smirk.

‘’You’re right.’’ Louis answered quickly and firmly.

Without wasting any time, he captured his lips with his own, licking in his mouth in the most filthy way he could, swallowing his moans and whimpers. He undulated his hips against his to rub their cocks together and when Harry was pliant enough, Louis used his grip on his hair to push down harshly, pulling back in time to see him being forced on his knees on the tiles. He once again forced his head to tilt upwards and with his other hand, gripped at his chin in a tight grip, causing his lips to form a pout, a small moan coming out of his throat.

‘’You sound so much better when you are moaning for me. How about we get back to that instead so I don’t have to hear you barking at me for something you clearly want so bad ?’’

He forced Harry’s mouth open with his thumb, pushing down in his teeth and letting his digit play with his lower lip. Harry tried to follow it, his tongue peaking out to try to lick it. That’s when Louis took his opportunity. Spit hit Harry’s tongue and Louis marvelled at the moan he let out, eyes rolling back in his head. Louis straightened, using the grip on his curls to bring his head closer to where he wanted it to be.

Harry’s hands shot out and came to grip at Louis’ hips. He leaned forward and spat on his cock, making a show of letting some drool fall on it before he stook out his tongue, swirled it on his tip and took it in his mouth, whole.

Louis drew in a long, deep, shuddering breath to the very bottoms of his lungs and concentrated hard on not exploding right away. He saw, like in a slow motion, how Harry’s pupils grew twice their size as he sank down further, hollowing his cheeks as he went.

Louis then started to move his hips to meet the back and forth rhythm, pulling a stuffed moan from his full mouth. And he already thought this would be over very soon, but when he saw Harry’s hand sneak up his own thigh and disappear behind his back, he moaned louder than he ever had. Harry attacked his balls then, lifting his cock and sucking them one by one, his glossy eyes still staring right through him.

‘’F-fuck, how— how the fuck are you so good at this?” Louis groaned, voice trembling as much as his legs.

He noticed then, Harry’s arms starting to move behind his back, the green eyes one letting his eyes flutter shut as his breath picked up. He let go of his base to grab at his ass, and pushed his cock deeper in his mouth, until his nose grazed at the caramel hair on his groin.

‘’Keep your eyes on me.’’ Louis ordonned to him.

Harry’s only answer was to look up with black eyes, something ravenous in his gaze, before sliding down on him once more, pausing when his cock hit the back of his throat and then, swallowing.

‘’Shit,’’ Louis' own eyes almost rolled back in his head, but he tried to fight it to keep looking, as Harry started to go even faster with his mouth and with the hand that was mysteriously busy behind his back. And when Harry moaned around him again, Louis decided he couldn’t take it anymore.

Bringing a hand to his cheek to feel himself in his mouth, he caressed his ear with an illusion of gentleness before scratching his scalp with his nails. He grabbed a fistfull of his curls and pulled upwards with a quick movement. As a result, his cock slipped out of Harry's mouth after he whimpered in discomfort and had to stand up to ease the ache.

Practically tearing the curtain from the wall, Louis climbed over the bathtub and dragged Harry behind him by his hair, all the way back to the bedroom, leaving behind puddles of water. Once there, he threw him on the mattress.

‘’I-’’ Harry’s air was forced from his lungs in a single syllable when a strong hand gripped him roughly at the back of his neck and shoved him against the mattress, his face smashed cheek-to-sheets. He barely had time to suck in a proper breath before he felt a body pressing itself up against his back and a thigh shoved between his legs.

His head was forced back again, in a painful tug that made him almost scream with the mix of pain and pleasure, forcing his back to arch to relieve some of it. ‘’Still don’t wanna say it ?’’ Louis asked in his ear, his cock bumping right against his entrance.

‘’D-Don’t know what you’re talking about.’’

That is all Louis needed to finally breach him. At the intrusion, while Louis moaned in pleasure as he sank slowly, Harry hissed through his teeth and spread his knees, probably to ease the burn. The first movements were rough. The need to release all this stress and heaviness in your heart is stronger than anything. Harry’s body was still damp, tight and warm around him, and the view of his back, and his long hair were putting him in a trance. Louis plastered his chest against his back, shivering at the contact of the burning skin, and the hand that was not busy holding his hip came to grip at his throat tightly. He brought his chin right onto the crown of Harry’s hair and looked down at him.

Just at that moment, Harry looked up at him, his face torn with a grimace of pleasure, eyebrows drawn together, mouth open and glossy eyes. He was moaning, not loudly but the sound coming right from the back of his throat.

‘’Fucking look at you.’’ Louis said, his own mouth opening with silent moans as he felt like drowning into his eyes.

Squeezing his throat, he brought his thumb under his ear and then across his jaw and finally, slipping it into Harry’s mouth. Once again, Harry’s eyes rolled and he moaned around the digit, trying to suck onto it but his moans were keeping him from doing so. And then, he spoke.

‘’You feel so f-fucking good in me,’’

Louis felt like the room was spinning, drunk on Harry’s voice, his body and his eyes. The thunder was still crashing in the sky, heavy splashes of rain hitting their windows but somehow, Louis couldn’t hear it. Leaning down, he took Harry's hand, one by one, placing them onto the headboard. That forced Harry’s body upward a bit, Louis following behind him on his knees. He kept one of his hands on his, and with the other, he held his throat again and started to move his hips in slow rotations.

“Oh,” Harry moaned loudly, his body twitching and his head falling down. “Fuck, oh fuck.”

‘’Found it ?’’ Louis asked with a smile, licking his dry lips and trying his best not to explode right away.

‘’Y-Yeah,’’ Using his support on the headboard, Harry begins to move his hips in the same rhythm, their bodies entering into a sensual dance, undulating and sliding against each other. ‘’Right fucking there, fuck, fuck,’’ He moaned at each slide of Louis’ cock, his body twitching and his thigh quivering.

The hand not held by Louis let go of the headboard and went to hold onto Louis’ ass, gripping the flesh and scratching it with blunt nails. He tilted his head when Louis' chin came on his shoulders, ragged breath and shaky moans. Understanding that he was close, Louis released his throat to slide his hand down his chest. He gripped at his red cock and started to pump his hand in rhythm with his hips, opening his mouth wide as Harry was moaning so close to his face.

‘’Fuck! Lo-’’ Harry’s stomach clenched, his body twitching more and more. He turned his head slightly to be able to make eye contact, breathing into Louis' mouth, his hand leaving his hips to grab at the back of his neck. ‘’Louis, fuck, it’s t-too– too fucking good.’’

“So close darling, come on. You’re gonna come yeah? Wanna come with me, H?”

Louis' voice was thick with pleasure, tongue darting out into Harry’s mouth as he nodded earnestly. He pressed his hips more quickly but still kept the same spot, not completely inside of him, rolling them once he could feel the small bud of nerves against his tip. They shook against each other, and with a last roll of his hips, they came together, Harry arching indecently and Louis moaning in his mouth, eyes shutting closed.

Immediately, Harry’s body went limp against him and Louis helped him down on the mattress. He kept his kneeling position while Harry struggled to turn on his back, his face hidden by half of his hair sticking to the skin. His body was twitching relentlessly, small moans still falling from his lips everytime he drew a breath.

Louis watched in awe as Harry seemed to be lost in his pleasure and he absently rubbed a thumb against his thigh, waiting for him to come back, taking his own time to catch his breath. A surge of pride filled his chest when he saw how many marks he had left on Harry’s skin. From the red scratches on his hips, the teeth indent at the back of his neck, the black bruise on his shoulder. His throat was red, traces of a thumb still visible right at his pulse point and his cheeks were the same taint, from how much Louis had, apparently, slapped him many times.

When Harry’s breathing finally evened out, Louis pushed himself out of the bed, taking a few seconds to hold himself upright as he felt like his legs had turned to jelly. He ruffled his own hair, padding for the bathroom when he heard the door of the flat open in the distance. He paid it no mind, grabbing a towel, sorting himself out for a wee and throwing the towel on Harry’s body. He didn’t waste time or energy trying to dress himself, simply rounded the bed again, and went to lock the door before he slumped right down on the still sweat damp and warm sheets, welcoming sleep.

Chapter 14: Camden II

Summary:

(i was high when i wrote this chapter, i do apologise. or not.)

Chapter Text

The room was shrouded in the half-light of the moon, and the storm outside provided a relentless backdrop of thunder and rain. It wasn't the weather that stirred Louis from his slumber, though; it was the persistent movement and tugging of the sheets beside him. Groggy and disoriented, he shifted onto his side, attempting to return to sleep, but the incessant twitching next to him refused to cease.

Cracking one eye open, he noticed the source of the disturbance—Harry.

Louis had almost forgotten he'd fallen asleep next to him, who now seemed to be locked in a battle within the recesses of his own mind. At first, Louis watched in confusion as Harry's closed eyes squeezed shut even harder, a deep crease forming between his brows. His hands clawed at the blanket covering his bare torso, and unintelligible words tumbled from his lips. Harry's head twitched left and right, the intervals of stillness punctuated by these restless movements. The sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead and neck, his tangled hair clinging to his skin. A nightmare.

Louis knew they all wrestled with their own sleep demons, haunted by blood and screams that tainted their slumbers. They rarely discussed it openly, save for the occasional cryptic conversation he would have with Zayn. It was evident, however, that their newfound existence left no room for innocence or peaceful rest. The horrors they'd witnessed, the unspeakable acts they'd committed in the name of survival, had left scars too deep to fade.

So, he propped himself up on his forearms, lying on his side, uncertain about what to do next. His heart clenched involuntarily when Harry emitted another whimper of pain, his fingers once again gripping the sheets. Moistening his lips with hesitation, Louis swallowed nervously, as if afraid that Harry might hear. He tentatively reached out, his fingertips brushing against a stray lock of Harry's hair that had fallen onto his forehead. Slowly, he cupped Harry's jaw with his hand.

"Harry," he whispered, his voice a gentle plea. Harry only furrowed his brow further and attempted to turn his head away, his breath quickening as yet another whimper escaped his lips. "Hey, H."

With a gasp, Harry jolted awake, his ragged breaths filling the room, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He appeared panicked, lost, and utterly shattered. His eyes darted around, trying to make sense of his surroundings, and he weakly attempted to push Louis's hand away.

"It's me," Louis reassured him, his own heart racing as he tried to quell his panic. "It's just me."

Harry's actions seemed almost automatic as he snuggled closer to Louis, burying his head in the crook of Louis's neck. He curled a thigh around Louis's middle and audibly inhaled Louis's scent before settling down. Louis remained motionless, taken aback by the sudden intimacy. They had never embraced like this, not once. Louis had never anticipated such a moment between them.

As Louis slowly lowered himself back onto the bed, he placed an arm beneath Harry's head, his fingers tangling in his hair. His other hand wrapped around Harry's waist, and his chin found a resting place atop Harry's head. Louis traced imaginary patterns on Harry's skin, his brow furrowing as he noticed the sharp pain in his chest. It was a pain born not from fear or confusion but from an unexpected connection that he didn’t even know had formed itself within him. The storm outside continued its fierce dance of thunder and rain, but within the dimly lit room, a different tempest had subsided. Louis held Harry close, his fingers gently combing through Harry's tousled hair as he whispered soothing words.

"It's just a nightmare, H," Louis murmured, his voice a soft, comforting cadence. "You're safe now. I've got you."

Harry's breath gradually slowed, and his tense body began to relax. He clung to Louis as if he were an anchor in the storm of his own mind. It was a vulnerable moment, one that neither of them had ever shared before. Louis continued to stroke Harry's hair, the touch almost reverent. He couldn't help but feel a sense of protectiveness over his friend, realising that beneath Harry's tough exterior, there were scars that ran deep.

As the minutes passed, the rhythm of Harry's breathing matched the calming beat of Louis's heart. The room, once filled with distress, settled into a peaceful silence. The moonlight filtered through the curtain, casting a gentle glow on their intertwined bodies. The pain in Louis's chest had not entirely dissipated, but it had shifted into something different—a profound connection between two survivors who had seen the worst of the world and still found solace in each other's presence.

The second time Louis woke up, the room was bathed in daylight, though the sky outside remained fractured by rain and wind. He lazily shielded his eyes with one arm, letting out a groan as he stretched extravagantly beneath the sheets. A tantalising scent wafted through the room, something cooking that instantly roused his growling stomach.

As he sat up in bed, the blankets pooling around his waist, Louis turned his head to the right, only to find that this time, Harry was absent. He absentmindedly ran his palm over the rumpled sheets where Harry had slept, feeling the chill that lingered there. Louis shrugged off the faint discomfort of waking up alone, but a trace of concern still clung to him from the events of the previous night.

When Louis emerged from his room, dressed in his new, perfectly fitting clothes—crisp blue jeans and a snug-fitting white henley—Zayn approached him with a bright smile, holding a bowl in hand.

"We've got a proper breakfast, Lou," Zayn announced, gently guiding Louis to the sofa.

Louis, trying to tame his unruly hair with his fingers and still half-asleep, responded with a low groan. "What?"

A bowl was placed in front of him on the coffee table, followed by a plate of bagels with jam and chocolate, eggs with gravy, and even a steaming cup of tea. He eyed the beans on the plate but decided against cursing them, instead focusing on Zayn, who had settled on the sofa beside him, half a bagel in his mouth.

Niall's voice piped up, "So, as we say at home, Bon appétit."

Louis tilted his head and squinted at Niall. "But," he began, "you're Irish."

"Yes, and?" Niall met his gaze with faux astonishment. ‘’Do you speak Gaelic ?’

Louis didn't bother coming up with a retort, feeling too tired to engage in banter. Instead, he reached for his tea mug, blowing on it to cool it down, relishing the aroma wafting from the cup. He also didn’t bother to ask where Harry was. Not wanting to spare a single bit of energy or attention for Liam, he simply chose to eat, comfortably tucked against Zayn and the sofa’s cushion, savouring the first real meal they had since well long ago.

The day unfolded quietly for Louis and Zayn as they roamed through the sprawling building. They did their best to escape the confines of their own minds, engaging in conversations that delved into their doubts, desires, and fears. They stumbled upon a bedroom that seemed to belong to a teenager and plopped down on the ground with their backs against the bed. There, they read comics, smoked the weed they had discovered hidden under the mattress, and let the moments of normalcy wash over them.

Randomly, in the midst of flipping through the animated pages, Louis spoke up, "I would have loved hanging out with you in a normal life."

Zayn, his focus still on the comics, responded without a hint of hesitation, "I would have done you."

Louis blinked, taken aback by the candidness of the reply. "For real?"

Zayn finally raised his head, closed the comic, and exhaled a long plume of pungent smoke, his eyes beginning to redden. "For real. You're hot, Lou."

Louis fell silent for a moment, processing the unexpected response. Then, he nudged Zayn with his knee. "But," he began, a mischievous glint in his eye, "don’t you bottom?"

Zayn smirked, his lips curving devilishly as he took another drag of the joint. "It depends," he teased.

Louis couldn't help himself; he jumped to his feet with a theatrical display of fake gagging. "Ew! Ew! Ew!" he exclaimed, earning a hearty laugh from Zayn. ‘’Fucking hell, I have pictures in my head !’’ He shook his hands in front of him like it would help to dissipate what he was imagining in his mind.

“Of me fucking Liam ?’’ Zayn answered with another laugh, Louis throwing a pillow at his face.

When Louis and Zayn finally stumbled back into the flat, they were more intoxicated by the weed than they had anticipated. Their mouths felt dry, their eyes were reddened, and their muscles were exceptionally relaxed. Holding onto each other for support, they giggled and moved at a sluggish pace. Liam and Harry were in the process of putting on their jackets, adjusting their shoes, and there were a few plastic bags at their feet. The first thing Louis noticed, however, was the displeased look on Harry's face, with a furrow between his brows and a crooked frown on his lips.

"Where were you?" Liam asked, apparently voicing what Harry wanted to ask.

Louis replied with a slurred speech, "Found a cool flat upstairs." Zayn chuckled as he nuzzled into Louis's neck, prompting Louis to bend his head to hide his skin from the tickling sensation.

"We found weed," Zayn added with a laugh.

Liam rolled his eyes and explained, "We decided to stay a bit longer. Figured we could use this place to rest. It's been quite a long week." He adjusted his jacket collar. "The rain just stopped, and Niall suggested lighting a fire on the roof so we could gather there tonight."

Louis's face twisted into a grimace as he pinched his lips together. His brain struggled to piece everything together, but he couldn't shake the discomfort he felt in Liam's presence. The mere sound of Liam's voice made him uneasy, and he wasn't sure if he could genuinely enjoy a "friendly" gathering.

His numbed brain answered for him, "Will there be food?"

Niall chimed in from next to him, his voice warm and reassuring as he patted the top of Louis's head. "Of course. Food, booze, fire, more weed, everything."

Louis batted Niall's hand away without realising that Niall had already moved toward the door. As his hazy, red-rimmed eyes settled on Harry, still wearing an annoyed and contemplative expression, Louis suddenly felt an urge to push Harry into the bedroom and reenact the events of the previous night. He shivered as Harry brushed his hair back from his face with a large hand, finding himself licking his lips at the sight.

However, Zayn's laughter against his neck interrupted his lustful thoughts, pulling him back to reality. Louis tugged for the living room, his body feeling as if his hands were numb, and warm waves of euphoria washing over him. Unbuttoning his shirt seemed like a brilliant idea, and when Zayn flopped down on the sofa, groaning for Louis to bring him something to eat, their drug-induced hunger led Louis to the kitchen.

Amid the faint sound of the front door closing, Louis detected a familiar scent behind him. He frowned but dismissed it as he began gathering biscuits, snacks, a chocolate bar, and a large bag of gummy bears on the kitchen counter. As he turned around, ready to call out to Zayn and ask if he preferred something salty or sweet when he was high, he found Harry leaning against the small bar, staring at him with a bored expression.

"Exactly how high are you?" Harry asked.

"On a scale of one to ten? Or in percentage?" Louis responded, his voice soft and ethereal, feeling as if his own voice was distant, with the world swirling around him and only Harry in focus.

Harry furrowed his brow, looking perplexed. "What?"

Louis tilted his head, his gaze fixed on Harry as he bit his lip. The annoyance, discomfort and whatever negative feeling he had felt when he woke up were all gone, replaced by very unholy thoughts. He let his eyes shamelessly travel down Harry's body, slowly coming up, only to look at him through thick eyelashes.

Harry squirmed, crunching the tip of his nose and straightening his back. ‘’I’m going to the roof with the guys.’’

His plump lips parted when Louis took a step closer, then another, and another, until he stood mere inches from Harry. His green eyes widened as Louis tilted his head again, looking up at him while biting his lip. "What did you say?" Louis asked, his voice airy, the world a blur except for Harry.

"I," Harry began, clearing his throat and attempting to speak. "I'm going-." Louis, however, didn't let him finish his sentence. He closed the distance between them, pressing his lips against Harry's jaw. Harry's speech faltered as he felt Louis's lips brush against his neck. "Go-going on the..." he stammered, Louis’ tongue darting out to leave a wet kiss under his ear, ‘’Roof,’’ Harry finally breathed out.

"Louuuuu," came Zayn's whine from the sofa behind. "Hungryyy."

At some point, Louis had fallen asleep on top of Zayn, and they ended up sprawled on the faux fur carpet. Louis's entire body rested on his friend's, his head nestled against Zayn's chest, arms hanging limply at his sides, and their ankles intertwined. Zayn had one warm hand on Louis's bare back when he woke up to the sound of a door closing, causing him to shift and groan. He wiped away some drool from his cheek, hastily trying to erase the traces of his slumber. It was then that he realised two pairs of eyes were watching him.

Liam and Harry stood a few feet away from the sofa, holding plastic bags filled with food, gazing at them with puzzled expressions. Liam looked amused for once, shaking his head with a fond smile, likely focused on Zayn's peaceful sleeping face. However, Harry had a deep frown on his forehead, his eyes fixated on Zayn's hand resting at the small of Louis's back, his lower lip caught between his fingers.

"Dinner time already?" Louis mumbled as he tried to disentangle himself from Zayn without waking him up. He ended up sitting between Zayn's legs, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"We still have to make the fire, but it's getting dark soon, so yeah," Niall replied as he emerged from the kitchen carrying a cardboard box filled with something Louis didn't particularly care about.

"Shower," Louis simply said, pushing himself up from the floor and stretching over Zayn's still-sleeping form before disappearing into the bedroom.

Once under the warm water of the shower, Louis was hit with a profound appreciation for the simple routines of normal life that had become such distant memories. As he used Luke's shampoo to massage his hair with his eyes closed, he realised just how much he missed the life he had once complained about so frequently.

The familiar scents of cedarwood and citrus filled his nose and heart. Flashbacks flooded his mind—moments with Luke in this very shower, helping him with his hair, and an almost-forgotten memory of him in Doncaster at his grandparents' house, holding a three-year-old Fizzy while chasing Lottie through the garden, laughter filling the air. His pregnant mom had been sitting on the terrace, watching him with pride all along, and he had rested his head on her leg while she played with his hair when the girls went for their nap.

Thankfully, his tears blended with the shower water, making it easier for him to ignore them. He wondered if, someday, when all of this was over, he would come to appreciate the little things more than he ever had. He wondered if he would have the chance to hold his sisters again and see the proud smiles on his mom's face.

He also wondered if he would see those same smiles on the faces of Zayn, Niall, Harry, and Liam, who had strangely become his new family, his new memories.

When Louis turned off the shower and grabbed his towel, he pressed it to his face while sliding down the wall, allowing the cotton to muffle his tears.

On the roof, as Harry and Liam worked together to bring the campfire to life, the tension that had hung between them since their fight felt heavy. Harry had been avoiding Liam, unsure of how to address the situation. He threw the last piece of wooden crates he had found on top of their campfire and wiped his hands on the back of his jeans.

He was about to busy himself with something else, but Liam stopped him from leaving, grabbing his wrist.

‘’I’d like to talk.’’ Liam pleaded to him, squeezing at his skin. ‘’Please.’’

Harry looked down, hesitant at first, but tugged on his wrist and turned around to face him, only giving a small nod.

"I fucked up, I'm sorry," Liam confessed. "I shouldn't have said what I said. And I shouldn't have hit him, it's just... all of that, it's so stressful."

Harry remained silent, watching as his friend was trying to justify himself. He had been hurt by Liam's actions and words, but he also understood the pressure they were all under.

"Did you plan on telling me?" Harry asked suddenly.

Liam's mouth snapped close, his brows furrowing. ''What ?''

"About Zayn.''

Liam's gaze dropped to the ground as he admitted, "No.’’

Voice tinged with disappointment, Harry raised his tone. " Why ? Louis knew about it, he-."

‘’Zayn told him, not me!’’

"But why?" Harry questioned, his hurt evident. "Louis knew and he didn’t say anything until you punched him. I thought I was your friend, Liam. I've known you since I was six !"

Liam's response was raw and filled with vulnerability. "I was scared, okay? I didn't know what to say."

"Scared of what?" Harry inquired, his tone softening when he saw Liam pacing away and sitting down on the low. "That I would judge you? Liam, come on, I'm—"

"No, it's not the same," Liam interrupted, his frustration evident. ‘’You were always fooling around with them, girls or boys. You didn’t care. And the way you look, no one ever questioned it.’’ He rubbed at his subtle covered jaw. ‘’I didn’t know, okay? I had a feeling, but I wasn’t sure. Until Zayn…’’

Harry said nothing, his brows furrowing as he watched the pained expression deepen on his friend’s face. ‘’I met him at the shop. When I was on a break and I was home with my parents. I would help the morning sometimes, and he came around a lot. I don’t know, to be honest, I don’t remember how it started. One day he was smoking outside, we talked.’’

He sighed heavily, shoulders falling down. ‘’He came home that night. We talked, drank, and laughed. It was natural. Easy. And then he.. He kissed me.’’ He raised his puppy-like eyes to Harry, shiny and glossy from unshed tears. ‘’He stayed the night. And then, we woke up to that…’’ He raised his hand to the view down the roof of the shattered and destroyed city.

Harry listened attentively, taking it all in and realising the weight of the secret Liam had been carrying. He sat down next to his friend, their shoulders touching, and spoke softly. "You didn't have to hide it, you know?"

Liam sighed, ‘’Yeah, it’s not like if someone had known, they wouldn’t have beat me up, or worse.’’.

Harry looked at Liam with understanding. "You were our superior. No one would have said anything."

Liam countered, "I could have lost my job. They would have lowered my rank."

They fell into another moment of silence, contemplating the complex web of emotions and fears that had led to their current situation. Harry finally broke the silence, taking responsibility for his own actions. "I'm sorry if I made you feel like you couldn't talk to me.

Liam shook his head, recognizing the difficulty of their circumstances. "Look at where we are. You almost died when you came back, how could I have ever found a moment to say something like that?"

With an understanding between them, they rose from their position and embraced, patting each other on the back, and returned to the task of putting together something comfortable for the night.

As Louis climbed up the stairs to the rooftop, he didn't have high expectations for the evening. In fact, he had been trying to come up with excuses to avoid spending time with the group. However, Zayn's enthusiasm for the idea of sharing a meal together always seemed to outweigh Louis's reservations, so he silently followed along.

But when he stepped onto the rooftop, any lingering reluctance vanished instantly. It was a sight to behold.

The rooftop had been transformed into a cosy, inviting space that offered a respite from the harsh reality of their world. The view from the roof was breathtaking. It overlooked a sprawling urban landscape, with the remnants of a once-thriving city now slowly being reclaimed by nature. The sun was setting in a fiery blaze, casting a warm, golden glow over the decaying buildings and streets below. The sky was painted in hues of orange and pink, a stark contrast to the desolation that surrounded them.

To create the campfire, they had gathered old wooden crates and pieces of furniture from the abandoned apartments below. These makeshift seats were arranged in a circle around the fire pit, which had been carefully constructed from bricks and stones.

Liam had managed to scavenge a few blankets and pillows, which were strewn around the seating area, offering both warmth and comfort. The soft glow from a string of battery-powered fairy lights hung overhead, casting a warm and inviting ambiance over the rooftop.

In the centre of their makeshift gathering was a hodgepodge of food and drinks. There were bowls of what looked like their favourite mac and cheese, cans of beans, packets of chips, and tons of chocolate biscuits. The scratch of alcohol was more impressive, looking like they had taken five bottles from each flat of the building. It was a modest feast, but it felt like a banquet given the circumstances.

"Let's light it up then," Liam said, taking a step closer to the fire pit.

Harry nodded in agreement, and the two of them began the task of starting the fire. As they worked on igniting the flames, Harry decided it was a good time to have a deeper conversation with Liam as Zayn and Louis were busy discussing together on the opposite side on the roof, and Niall was nowhere to be found.

‘’Did you talk to him then?’’ Harry asked as his eyes were focused on how Zayn and Louis were giggling together. ‘’I mean, does he know ?’’

Liam's brows furrowed in thought as he glanced over at Zayn, who was chatting animatedly with Louis. "No, I don't think so. I've never told him, it never came out.."

Harry sighed, feeling a weight on his chest. "I think you should. You have nothing to lose now.’’

He saw how Liam’s eyes flew to Zayn and stayed stuck on his silhouette, a smile blooming on his face as Zayn erupted into laughter, throwing his head back. Liam nodded in agreement, but then he turned to Harry with a knowing look. "You should do the same, Harry."

Harry was momentarily confused, wondering what Liam meant. But then his gaze followed Liam's to where Louis was sitting. Louis was already looking at him, their eyes locking in an unspoken understanding. As the fire began to crackle and come to life, Harry knew that this night on the rooftop was more than just a gathering. It was an opportunity for them to address the unspoken issues within the group, to be open and honest with each other, and to strengthen the bonds that held them together in this new world.

The heavy door of the rooftop flew open as Niall entered with a bottle of vodka in his hand. "Electricity is back!" He raised the bottle triumphantly and took a large sip, savouring the moment of relief and celebration.

As they settled around the crackling fire, Niall finally posed the question that had been lingering in his mind since their gathering began. "So, how did you all end up here?"

They exchanged glances, each silently contemplating who would share their story first. Louis wiped his mouth with his thumb and began to speak. "Well, I was in Tottenham. I met Harry first, and then he introduced me to Liam. Zayn was there too. That's kind of it."

Harry chimed in with a playful tone, seated next to Niall and across from Louis, separated only by the fire. "Forgot to mention that I saved your ass, which is why you're here."

Louis smirked in response. "Forgot to mention that I've saved you so many times I can't even count them."

‘’Forgot to say I-’’

‘’Okay, we got it.’’ Zayn decided to intervene and keep the conversation moving. "I met Liam before all this. He worked at his family's coffee shop, which I used to frequent. That's how we got caught up in this mess. Liam and Harry are best friends."

Niall's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "No way, really? That's awesome! How did you guys meet?"

Liam and Harry exchanged uneasy glances, their discomfort palpable. Zayn and Louis shared a knowing look, silently acknowledging the tension.

"What about you, Niall?" Zayn asked indeed, saving his friends from the nervosity installed.

Niall casually shared his own story. "I lived in London with my brother. Nothing out of the ordinary, just work, friends, and parties. And then, we woke up to this nightmare. I don't know about my parents; they're still in Ireland. My brother mentioned having a friend who could help us."

Louis, lacking a bit of tact, asked a pointed question. "So, you joined the Raiders?"

Niall answered candidly, and Zayn gave Louis a subtle elbow to keep things diplomatic. "Yeah, well, my brother was more into it than I was. It didn't take me long to realise they were completely insane."

Two hours had slipped away, leaving the rooftop strewn with empty alcohol bottles. Their initial tipsiness had evolved into a delightful, carefree inebriation, a rare moment of happiness shared for the first time in six months since the onset of the apocalypse. Laughter reverberated through the night air, uniting them in a warm camaraderie. Rosy cheeks, gleaming eyes, and slurred speech marked the signs of their inebriation. Louis had never seen Zayn smile so radiantly, filling his heart with a sense of contentment and joy, all thanks to Niall.

Niall had the remarkable ability to make everything appear effortless and uncomplicated, spreading laughter and joy wherever he went, whether through his words or laughter. Louis watched as Niall attempted to teach the uncoordinated Harry and Liam the Irish Jig, barely managing to stifle his own laughter, for fear he might burst into fits of mirth.

However, his gaze was primarily fixed on Harry, a mix of admiration and playful teasing evident in his expression as he watched Harry's persistent efforts, despite the evident embarrassment. Zayn joined the dance after downing his fourth glass of vodka, swaying unsteadily and reaching out to Niall to maintain his balance. In his unsteady state, he inadvertently pulled Niall along with him, resulting in a clumsy stumble that ended with Niall colliding with a stool, causing it to topple over with a resounding thud.

“Oh ! Bloody hell Niall!” Louis exclaimed, attempting to rise from his seat but quickly sitting back down as the alcohol surged in his veins. “You've broken it.”

“It's not broken!” Zayn protested, crouching down to inspect the stool with Niall clinging to his back for a better view.

“Give it a twist, mate!” Niall chimed in, trying to reach the small black vice that Zayn was desperately attempting to fix.

“I'm twisting, bro!” Zayn shouted back, his accent surfacing fully and eliciting laughter from those gathered around.

Moments later, Liam held a bottle of gin in his hand, taking a swig and sharing a peculiar confession. "I'm not kidding, I actually have a weird fear of spoons."

A long, embarrassing silence followed, and Louis stared at Liam in disbelief, his expression a mix of horror and incredulity. Niall, who had been trying to contain his laughter with puffed-up cheeks, finally burst into a fit of giggles.

Harry, cheeks and nose red, leaned in closer to Liam, cupping his hand and pretending it was a spoon. Liam recoiled with a grimace."That's—Harry, that doesn't look like a spoon." he swatted Harry's hand away and turned to the rest of the group.

"So, I can't eat soup, or I have to use a straw—"

His words were drowned out by uproarious laughter. Zayn, unable to contain himself, laughed into his elbow, trying to preserve some of Liam's dignity. However, his laughter was loud enough to be heard by all.

Louis continued to stare at Liam, his mouth wide open, brows furrowing in utter confusion. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, encouraged by Niall and Zayn's laughter, Harry's exaggerated spoon-hand antics, and Liam's deadpan delivery of his unusual fear, all heightened by his accent.

Without uttering a word, Louis got up, swaying slightly as he walked to their makeshift table. After a moment, he returned to the fire, hands hidden behind his back. His expression alone might have tipped Liam off that something was awry, as he stopped smiling and instinctively raised a hand in caution.

"What are you doing?"

Without a response, Louis extended his hand, revealing a tiny spoon, and held it up toward Liam's face. Liam let out an uncharacteristic shriek, nearly stumbling over Harry as he scrambled away.

"STOP!" Liam yelled, leaping to his feet, knocking over his chair in his haste.

He made a run for it, and Louis, naturally, gave chase. The others sitting on the ground had a clear view of the chase unfolding, as they circled the campfire, with Louis clearly outpacing Liam. Louis continued to wield the spoon menacingly behind him, as though it were a magical wand. Niall couldn't contain his laughter, finding amusement in Liam's yelps and screams, while Harry and Zayn laughed so hard that tears streamed down their faces.

"Come on, Payno, touch it!" Louis hollered from behind, prompting Harry to slap his thigh in hysterics.

"Fucking—" Liam attempted to leap over a fallen cushion as he rounded the fire but ended up face-planting onto the blanket.

Everyone fell silent once more, with Louis standing frozen, spoon still held aloft. However, when Liam rolled onto his back and erupted in laughter, Louis lunged again, and the entire rooftop echoed with their collective laughter.

"TOUCH IT!" Louis yelled, shoving the spoon in Liam's direction amidst his own uncontrollable laughter, Niall falling from his chair, holding his tummy with a loud burst of laughter, Zayn and Harry hiding their faces in their hands.

As the night settled in, the carefree atmosphere continued to envelop them. Laughter, conversation, and the crackling fire filled the rooftop. The sky was now a deep, velvety black, adorned with only a handful of stars that dared to pierce through the city's artificial glow. The fire still danced with its mesmerising orange hues. Gradually, the alcohol coursing through their veins began to take its toll. Their bodies grew heavy and lethargic, the initial euphoria giving way to a sense of contentment and relaxation. They slouched in their chairs, their voices becoming softer, and their drinks more sparingly sipped.

Niall, feeling the alcohol's influence but still in high spirits, grabbed the guitar he had "borrowed" from the shop. He settled it comfortably on his lap, fingers gently grazing the strings as he swayed to an internal rhythm. Zayn closed his eyes, taking a slow drag from the joint he held before passing it to Louis, who accepted it with a grateful nod.

“It'll be fine by dusk light I'm telling you, baby

These things eat at your bones and drive your young mind crazy”

The music flowed through the air, the soft strumming of Niall's guitar and his gentle voice creating an atmosphere of melancholic tranquillity on the rooftop. As the soothing melodies wrapped around them. Harry closed his eyes as well, shifting down on his chair and letting his head fall down against the back, accepting the numbing sensation of the weed blending with the alcohol in his veins, letting Niall's voice wash over him, the fire providing his body warmth despite the cold breeze.

''But when you place your head between my collar and jaw

I don't know much but there's no weight at all''

At that, his eyes flew open, falling directly and without his own will, onto Louis who had his eyes closed as well, eyelashes creating shadows on his high cheekbones. He gulped, checking around him to see if someone had noticed him staring. The lyrics spoke of a yearning, a sense of longing and missed opportunities, and Harry couldn't help but connect with the emotions they carried. Niall's voice held a raw authenticity that resonated with something deep within him.

‘’To you I'm just a man, to me you're all I am

Where the hell am I supposed to go?

I poisoned myself again

Something in the orange tells me you're never coming home’’

But then, like an electric shock, Louis’ eyes flew open. Immediately, green met with intense blue through the fire. It felt as though time stood still in that moment, the world around them fading into obscurity, leaving only the two of them in a haze. Louis' own eyes sparkled with the reflection of the fire's light, and he couldn't help but feel a strange mixture of vulnerability and curiosity as he locked eyes with Harry. The lyrics continued, but for those brief moments, nothing else mattered.

As the song reached its poignant conclusion, Harry's gaze remained locked on Louis. He felt his heart quicken, and a confusing mixture of emotions swirled within him. The reasons for his initial animosity toward Louis seemed to fade, replaced by a growing sense of attraction and connection that he couldn't quite explain or deny. He wanted to blame the alcohol, the drug, even Niall’s choice of song, but nothing came and he felt dumb, staring and staring.

‘’If you leave today, I'll just stare at the way

The orange touches all things around

The grass, trees and dew, how I just hate you’’

Harry's inner turmoil churned as he grappled with the unfamiliar emotions that seemed to have taken root within him. He couldn't quite understand why he felt this way, why Louis had gone from being a source of frustration and resentment to someone he now longed to be close to. It was a maelstrom of confusion and attraction, and it left him feeling disoriented and vulnerable.

The pull toward Louis grew stronger, an inexplicable urge to bridge the gap between them, to break down the walls that had separated them for so long. He tried to rationalise it, attributing it to the loneliness that had settled deep within him, a yearning for human connection in a world that had turned hostile. Perhaps it was the fear of death that lurked in the corners of his mind, pushing him to seek solace in another's presence. Or maybe it was the alcohol, clouding his judgement and allowing buried emotions to rise to the surface, blurring the lines of animosity and attraction.

As the night wore on and the fire crackled in the darkness, Harry couldn't escape the feeling that something had shifted, both within him and between him and Louis. It was a disconcerting sensation, one that defied easy explanation, but he couldn't deny its existence. The boundaries of their relationship had blurred, and Harry found himself drawn to Louis in a way he had never expected.

And as the last drops from the bottles vanished, and they all found themselves comfortably beyond the point of inebriation, laughter returned to the group. Niall, in a tipsy attempt to stand up for a bathroom break, ended up sprawled on the floor.

Zayn and Liam, nestled together, drew closer as time slipped by. Their shared glances and hushed conversations hinted at a desire for some private time, a fact not lost on Harry. Niall, seizing the opportunity, had already left with a stash of snacks, openly declaring his intention to crash in a different apartment with a spacious queen-size bed. Harry briefly contemplated asking him to return to the main gathering place, just in case, but his intoxicated mind decided otherwise.

"Louis," Harry called out, swaying slightly on unsteady legs. "Let's head out."

Without a second thought, the blue-eyed boy rose from his seat, almost toppling onto Liam in the process, using the taller boy's head as a makeshift balance. He moved directly to Harry, his hand finding the curve of Harry's waist.

"Don't forget to extinguish the fire," Harry reminded, grimacing when he saw Liam inching closer to Zayn just before the door swung shut behind them.

Facing the stairs now, Harry furrowed his brow. He was more intoxicated than he'd realised, the staircase appearing to sway and swirl before him. Louis' warm and solid presence at his side was somewhat distracting.

"Alright, one step at a time," he mumbled, taking a step down while holding onto Louis for support.

But Louis, being Louis, bursted into giggles and began to race down the stairs, dragging Harry along. Harry, not entirely sure what was happening and determined not to stumble, could only follow suit, laughing as he narrowly avoided colliding with the wall. He trailed behind as Louis hurried down two flights of stairs before reaching their apartment door, where he pressed his body against it before stumbling inside.

Breathless and still feeling the effects of alcohol, with flushed cheeks and a sluggish demeanour, Harry followed like an eager puppy. Without a second thought, he ventured into the bedroom and then the bathroom, where Louis was still laughing, leaning against the sink, watching him. His eyes seemed a tad dilated from the weed, his hair tousled from the breeze, and the tip of his nose slightly pink. But the smile on his face was the most radiant Harry had ever seen, his eyes crinkling slightly. He looked beautiful.

Harry, free from inhibitions or conscious thought, closed the remaining gap between them, his hands finding Louis' hips as Louis instinctively placed his hand on Harry's shoulders. Harry grinned foolishly, his vision still somewhat hazy.

"I like your stupid face," Louis laughed. "It's so stupid. It's just... I like it. Can I touch it?"

Harry laughed heartily, throwing his head back before nodding, his dimple and bunny teeth on full display. Louis playfully poked at his dimple, once and then again, his gaze momentarily crossing as he stared at it.

"You're cute," Harry declared. "And maybe a little blurry, but cute."

‘’And you’re drunk.’’ Louis answered, his fingers still on his face, grazing and touching lightly. They swayed a bit, left and right because of the alcohol, his eyes ever so blue.

“I’m not drunk. Can a drunk person do this?” Harry asked, seeming really offended.

Louis stared, with a deadpan like face. “You’re not doing anything.”

That is when Harry, in his idiotic intoxicated state, leaned forward and took Louis’ lips between his, in an open mouth kiss, tilting his head to deepen it right away, letting his tongue slip into the warmth of his mouth. Louis tensed briefly for a second, his fingers twitching on his face before his hands switched for his neck, exhaling deeply through his nose. Their bodies pressed, arching into each other like it was natural for them to kiss without any meaning behind it.

However, Louis was the first to pull away, as if suddenly recalling his surroundings and what they were doing. He cleared his throat and gently pushed on Harry's shoulder to create some much-needed space.

"You should take a shower," he suggested. When Harry attempted to lean forward again, Louis ducked under his arm and slipped away, leaving the slightly inebriated Harry with his forehead against the mirror, groaning.

Relief washed over Louis as he closed the bathroom door behind him and heard the sound of the shower starting. The tranquillity of being alone in a room with a closed door, with only the sound of running water, offered his intoxicated mind a brief respite. His thoughts often raced too fast, and his brain felt constantly cluttered, so moments like these were a welcome escape.

For the first time since they had arrived at this place, Louis suddenly realised that, with the light on, he was standing in his best friend's bedroom. He closed his eyes, as if trying to shut out the realisation. The evening had started off well, filled with laughter and jokes, but it seemed that nothing could keep him from the darkest corners of his mind. It hadn't even registered when he first entered the room the day before, as he had been consumed by anger towards Harry and their argument, and the lack of electricity had made it easier to ignore.

But when he opened his eyes, he couldn't help but notice his own reflection, framed by the glass on the bedside table to the left of the bed. He cautiously approached it and sat down on the bed, picking up the frame with trembling fingers. Memories came rushing back, and he let out a tearful chuckle.

"WE DID IT!" Oli had shouted at Louis, gripping his shoulders and shaking him.

Soon, Stan and Luke had joined in, hugging him tightly and jumping around in sheer joy and celebration. They had worked tirelessly for this accomplishment, a dream from their childhood and something people had often told Louis he could never achieve. He had built his own business, risen from a small, impoverished town to London, and with friends he had known since childhood, he had achieved it all.

"Hell yeah!" Louis had yelled back, joining in their exuberant celebration as Stan grabbed a bottle of champagne and sprayed it, soaking him and eliciting fits of laughter.

Turning, he had found Luke watching him with a sense of wonder and pride in his eyes. While Oli and Stan playfully engaged in their champagne fight, Louis had tiptoed over and stolen a kiss from Luke.

‘’I’m proud of you.’’ Luke had whispered in his ear before the others joined them again to cheer.

The sudden sound of the door opening behind him startled Louis, nearly causing him to drop the frame from his hands.

The sudden sound of the door opening behind him jolted Louis, nearly causing him to drop the frame he held in his hands. But he couldn't be bothered to turn around. His head still felt muddled from the alcohol, and the mixture of nostalgia, worry, and sadness created a strange sensation in his chest.

However, he did sense the moment the bed behind him dipped, and he felt a warm breath against the back of his neck. Harry's hand appeared in front of him, the small cross tattoo next to his thumb still damp with water. Louis attempted to wrestle the frame from his grip, but Harry's strength prevailed. Louis avoided eye contact as Harry turned the frame to examine the picture.

Silence settled in the room before Harry broke it. "So, these are your friends?"

Louis nodded but kept his gaze averted.

"He was working with you," Harry continued, his tone softened. "That's the place you wanted to visit when I found you?" Harry inquired, his voice tinged with curiosity.

Louis nodded in silence, again.

"I don't have many friends from before," Harry admitted, his words flowing out as if he couldn't help but share.

"You have Liam," Louis countered.

"Yeah, but..." Harry trailed off, shaking his head. "I met him here, in London. I have... no one from before."

Louis was once again taken aback by Harry's candid confession, as if Harry's words poured out unfiltered.

"Why?" Louis turned to look at Harry, curiosity piqued. He was surprised to see Harry's face so open, vulnerable, and almost wounded.

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "Lost touch, I suppose. I’m a prick, remember?"

They exchanged a knowing look, their smiles forming at the corners of their lips as they gazed deeply into each other's eyes. It felt like the first time Louis had truly seen Harry—the softness of his hair, the kindness in his eyes, and the comforting presence that made life a bit more bearable.


Chapter 15: King's Cross

Summary:

A plan to keep going.
New friends, jealous Harry, male alphas fighting for Lou.

Chapter Text

After two days of refuge in the vacant flat, the atmosphere had shifted noticeably. Tension had gradually given way to camaraderie and unity. The group of boys, once strangers, had now become a makeshift family, their bonds forged in the crucible of their new world. Sunlight filtered through dusty windows, casting a warm glow on the room cluttered with makeshift backpacks and supplies. The flat had offered a brief respite from the harsh outside world, but they knew they couldn't stay forever. Their quest to find survivors, families, or friends compelled them to move forward.

The boys all awoke slightly hungover, their heads throbbing with small groans escaping their lips as they gathered on the sofa to share a makeshift breakfast. They savoured the remnants of stolen bagels and precious jams. Niall, with his past dealings with the raiders, had provided crucial information about a large survivor camp located up North, stretching from Manchester to the border with Ireland. This knowledge kindled a spark of hope in them all. For Harry, his thoughts inevitably drifted to his sister, and he prayed and hoped that she was safe and sound.

As the afternoon sun began to descend, they all took refreshing showers and gathered their belongings. In the bedroom, which they had found themselves sharing for those two days, Harry and Louis shared a significant moment. Their eyes met, conveying a silent understanding that something had shifted between them, even if neither was willing to say it outright. However, as Louis's fingers brushed against a photo frame on the bedside table, Harry understood. He retrieved his bag and some clothes, leaving the room and allowing Louis a moment with his memories.

Louis carefully stowed away the surviving photo, removing it from its glass frame and slipping it into his bag's inside pocket. He moved to the desk, and a small smile graced his face as he looked at the old polaroid pictures from their high school days thumbtacked to the wall. His fingers grazed the desk and chair, letting the memories flood back – the stories of their past. Every item held its story.

Before leaving the room, he meticulously folded and packed some of his clothes that he had left behind, placing them neatly in his backpack. He retrieved his favourite hoodie from the rack and draped it over his shoulder before leaving, without another glance.

In the living room, Niall focused on folding a threadbare blanket that had provided warmth during the cold nights. Laughter and conversation filled the room as the others packed. Zayn shared a humorous anecdote about a close call with a zombie, drawing smiles and laughter from the group. The shared laughter was a stark contrast to the eerie silence outside, giving Louis a sense of belonging and safety.

With their bags packed, the group gathered around the coffee table to discuss their route. The room grew quieter, and the conversation shifted to the seriousness of their mission. Liam unfolded the old and well-worn map, and they meticulously marked their path, identifying potential dangers and areas to avoid.

"We'll steer clear of Camden Market; that place is overrun."

Niall chimed in, "What about the tube tunnels near Euston Station?"

With furrowed brows and a thoughtful expression, Harry leaned over to get a closer look at the map. "It could work, but every entrance got blocked by the army when everything started. However, it might be safer to be underground."

As the plan unfolded, the group outlined specific objectives for their journey. They aimed to scout for signs of life, such as columns of smoke on the horizon or messages left by other survivors.

"I think we should head to King's Cross first," Louis suggested, anticipating the inevitable objections. "I know, I know," he continued, preventing Liam from interjecting, "It used to be busy, so there might be more infected. But," he emphasised, "I think we'd be lucky to find more food. Think about it, if we have to trek all the way to Manchester on foot, we need to start collecting any food we can."

Surprisingly, Liam didn't argue. He nodded seriously and started marking their route on the map. After the planning, they conducted a final check of their belongings to ensure they didn't forget anything.

Once everything was ready, Louis stepped out onto the balcony for a cigarette. Zayn and Liam exchanged a knowing look, and with a heavy sigh, Liam followed Louis.

The door closed slowly behind him, and Liam felt a bit out of place as he joined Louis, who was leaning against the railing, hood hiding his face as he blew out a puff of smoke, his eyes fixed on the chaotic city below.

Unsure of what to do with his hands, Liam took a couple of awkward steps and mimicked Louis's posture, leaning on his elbow. Together, they looked down in silence, the tension still present but somehow less oppressive than before.

"I wanted to say sorry for how I acted since you joined us," Liam began, "And for what I said, and... well, for punching you, I guess."

Louis snorted, a small puff of white smoke escaping his lips, drifting toward Liam's face and making him grimace.

"I was an arse," Liam continued, "I know it. I don't know why, but I felt like I'm responsible for all of you, like I need to take care of everyone. With you, I felt like you were deliberately trying to get on my nerves."

Louis let the butt of the cigarette fall from his fingers, watching it as it tumbled to the ground below. Then, he raised his head to gaze at the grey clouds. "I'm not going to be any different now, you know that, right?"

Liam appeared surprised, his eyebrows shooting upward. But before he could engage in another argument, risking another conflict, he simply pursed his lips and nodded.

"I'm not doing anything on purpose," Louis said, "I can't just stand by and watch people die. Those people are like us; they have families. If I didn't save Harry, we wouldn't be here. If I didn't save Niall, we wouldn't know about the camp in Manchester. You don't have to like me, but I just wish for some respect."

"I know, I know," Liam sighed. "We're lucky to have you, and Niall. You two bring some... life to this place."

Louis snorted again, and with a roll of his eyes, extended his hand for Liam to shake, narrowing his eyes playfully. "Peace?"

"Peace."

As they finally prepared to leave the flat one by one, they stood in a circle, quietly reflecting on their lost friends and loved ones. Their faces bore the weight of those memories, but their resolve remained unwavering. They locked eyes, sharing a mutual understanding of what lay ahead and the importance of their unity in this unforgiving world.

With a collective nod, they stepped out into the chaos of London, their hearts united, and their spirits undeterred by the uncertainties of their journey.

They chose to squeeze into one of the cars that would serve as their temporary mode of transportation. As they sat shoulder-to-shoulder in the vehicle, there was a palpable sense of togetherness, despite the unchanging and grim scenery outside.

"Look at us, five lads on a road trip to King's Cross," Niall quipped, offering a rare moment of levity that elicited a chuckle from the others. The atmosphere was light, if only for a moment, as they shared a sense of unity that had developed over the past few days.

Approaching King's Cross, they had to abandon the car near the train station, where the road was entirely obstructed by abandoned cars, trash, and discarded suitcases. The eerie calmness put them on edge, a feeling that was only heightened by the need to tighten their grip on their weapons. As the group arrived at King's Cross, they were forced to let go of their car. The roads were packed with abandoned cars, blocking access in every direction. They had wanted to avoid the train station, but circumstances left them with no choice but to pass by.

The sight of the vacated trains, now ruined and ravaged with graffiti and surrounded by abandoned suitcases, was an odd feeling for them. The train station's interior was in a similar state, with all the shops completely destroyed, broken glass everywhere, and chairs and tables strewn about. Occasionally, they were lucky enough to find a bottle of water here and there, a snack bar, or some chewing gum, but nothing too useful.

Exploring the entirety of the train station took them nearly two hours. The place was vast, a literal maze of small shops, offices, and sprawling railroads. They needed to ensure that no recent passage had been made before proceeding further into the town.

Their backpacks were heavy on their backs, weighing them down, but as the area seemed empty enough, they had no rush.

Exiting the train station and reaching the large square left them all feeling a bit resentful. Everyone who had been in London could remember how busy it used to be. Now, a double-decker red bus lay upside down on the road, and trash and papers littered the pavement.

"It's a bit too quiet," Liam remarked, his hands on his hips as he scanned the area for potential threats.

"Well, maybe they got away first, you know, with the trains and all," Niall suggested.

Harry shook his head even before Niall had finished speaking. "No, they blocked all the trains a week before everything started."

Zayn and Louis exchanged worried glances, while Niall frowned. "What?"

"Um," Harry hesitated, looking anxiously at Liam.

"Let's not stay in the same place for too long; we never know," Liam urged, breaking the tension. They needed to remain vigilant as they ventured further into the uncertain cityscape.

It didn’t help that, navigating the cluttered street, they came across numerous graffiti tags and lifeless bodies, signs of recent Raiders activity. The air was thick with tension as they moved forward cautiously, wary of any sudden threats.

And then it happened. From a nearby alley, the unmistakable sounds of agony and distress reached their ears – cries of pain, groaning, and the relentless gasps of someone in torment. The group exchanged anxious glances. Liam attempted to nod in another direction, a silent plea for them to continue moving, but the ceaseless, feminine cries tugged at their compassion, urging them to investigate further.

At the end of a narrow, shadowy alley, they discovered a chilling scene. Four raiders encircled an infected woman lying on the ground. Her leg was clearly broken, the unnatural angle of her ankle rendering her incapable of walking. Despite her helplessness, she displayed defiance, crawling toward her tormentors who revealed in her suffering. The sight was enough to make Harry's blood boil, his fists clenching and his jaw tensing as he battled with himself to maintain composure.

"Look at this, boys! A helpless one crawling on her hands and knees!" one raider sneered.

"Hey, sweetheart, you think you can get to us like that? You must be desperate," another taunted with a wicked grin.

The woman on the ground, her face contorted in agony, continued to crawl toward her tormentors, her desperate groans filling the air.

"What's the matter, darling? Got something to say?" a third raider jeered, cruelly mocking her attempts to reach them.

In a tense whisper, Liam's voice broke through the turmoil. "We should keep moving, guys. It's not our fight."

But Harry could no longer stand by. Anger and disgust surged within him as one of the raiders callously toyed with the woman, pulling her blood-matted hair and tilting her head back while laughing at her futile attempts to bite him. His eyes burned with fire, and he reached for his gun. Without a word, he strode into the alley, determined to confront the sadistic raiders. Louis, equally impulsive, followed, drawing his knife.

"Harry," Liam shouted in a panicked whisper, scrambling to retrieve his gun and position himself in front of Louis.

With grim determination, Harry grabbed the first raider by the shoulder and slammed him against the wall. "It's funny, huh?! It's fucking funny?!" He screamed at the man, making the other raiders fumble for their weapons.

Pressing his forearm firmly against the man's throat, Harry took aim and fired. Two raiders fell, their taunts silenced forever. The remaining one was poised to shoot, hesitating between Harry and Louis, but Liam's shot found its mark, incapacitating him.

"I asked you a damn question," Harry hissed at the man, delivering punch after punch to his face, the sound of his own laboured breathing and the muted cries from the others behind him filling his ears.

"Harry!" Louis screamed, forcibly wrenching the gun from Harry's grip as the lifeless body slumped to the ground with an unrecognisable bloody face.

The alley was left in silence, broken only by Harry's heavy panting and the shocked expressions of those around him. Louis grasped Harry's face, attempting to shake him back to reality. The woman's agonised groans continued to fill the air as she inched forward, compelled by her insatiable hunger.

Harry turned his attention to her, gently prying Louis's hands away from his blood-smeared face with his own trembling, crimson-stained fingers. He approached her cautiously, swallowing hard as his hands trembled slightly. With a heavy sigh, he aimed his gun at her head, and Liam nodded in silent agreement. A single, merciful shot rang out, ending her suffering.

The group stood there, adrenaline still coursing through their veins.

"We have to go; someone might have heard the shots. If they were here, there's probably more," Zayn said, avoiding looking at Harry's bloody arms and hands.

Louis gently took the gun out of Harry's hands and tucked it into the waistband of his trousers at his back, urging Harry forward with a hand on his back. They moved quickly, their gaze always scanning their surroundings. Liam, ever vigilant, kept an eye out for potential threats lurking above.

And sure enough, it didn't take more than ten minutes of them trying to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the sound of distant gunfire for the echoes of shots to ring out.

Liam stopped, his hand raised in a signal for the others to halt.

They froze, holding their breath and listening carefully to discern the direction of the threat. The silence was broken by the crisp sound of a bullet whizzing by, ricocheting near Zayn's foot, followed by three more shots fired in their direction.

"SNIPER!" Liam shouted.

They were back to running, zigzagging through the small, narrow, and dark streets and alleys of King's Cross. The screams of Raiders echoed, along with the sounds of cars and approaching footsteps. The Raiders had found them and were undoubtedly seeking revenge for their fallen comrades.

They ran with all their might, despite the weight of their bags, until their lungs burned, their hearts thudded in their chests, and their mouths went dry. The sniper lurking high above on the rooftops added to their fear, and the Raiders' cars gave chase with the advantage of speed.

Finally, they found refuge in a multi-story car park after more than fifteen minutes of relentless running, ascending all the way to the top. Liam, Zayn, and Harry hid behind a large black pickup truck, while Louis and Niall sought shelter behind a concrete block. They sat on the ground, gasping for breath, their legs shaky.

From their concealed positions, they could hear the Raiders' cars patrolling the streets below, likely searching for them. They closed their eyes, hands pressed against their racing hearts.

When the silence had persisted long enough to suggest the threat had passed, Liam stood up first, slowly and cautiously, followed by Harry. One by one, they emerged from their hiding places, regrouping at the elevator area, concealed by the building's walls.

"What do we do now?!" Niall asked, while the others took large sips of water.

Harry wiped his face with a sigh. "They have a sniper; it's too dangerous out there."

Zayn tossed his empty water bottle on the ground and turned Liam around, unzipping his bag to retrieve the map. He used his knee to keep it open and studied it with a furrowed brow for a moment.

"Okay," he said, pointing at the map, "there's the tube." He looked up at Harry. "Do you think we can make it underground?"

Harry pursed his lips and tilted his head. "Yeah, we could try, but the tube stations are all locked."

"Yeah, well, we need to try," Liam concluded, determination in his eyes.

Exiting the parking lot, they moved as discreetly as possible, determined to evade the Raiders and their sniper, whose numbers and positions were still unknown. They hugged the walls, keeping to the shadows, and used every available cover, from cars to buses and walls. They knew that any exposure might make them an easy target for the enemy lurking on the rooftops.

To minimise risks, they opted to stick to the flagged streets, bypassing the temptation to explore houses and flats. Instead, they made a beeline for the tube station as indicated on the map. As they emerged from the sheltered pavilion and the calm surroundings, a sight of familiarity and potential salvation greeted them in the form of a sign pointing the way to the metro.

But their moment of hope was short-lived.

"They're going for the tube!"

The Raiders were hot on their heels, gunshots echoing through the air as they raced towards the tube station entrance. Panic and tension mounted with every step, knowing they needed to reach safety quickly. But as they approached the station, their hopes were dashed by the sight of locked, impenetrable metal doors that sealed off their path. Harry's frustration boiled over.

"Fucking shit!" Harry exclaimed, his voice laden with desperation. "Guys, you're going to have to slow them down!"

Liam and Harry immediately sprang into action, their muscles straining against the metal bars that barred their way. They fought to create a narrow gap, just wide enough for everyone to squeeze through. Time was a precious commodity, and they couldn't afford to be held back.

Meanwhile, Louis, Zayn, and Niall found themselves confronting two Raiders who had caught up to them. Lacking firearms, they grasped their knives and grabbed any improvised weapons they could find.

Amidst the chaos, Niall took swift action. He crouched and removed his backpack, frantically searching inside. Louis kept an eye on him as the first Raider approached, Zayn wielding a baseball bat as he fiercely struck the attacker's head, sending the man crashing to the ground. Louis followed up with a kick to the assailant's stomach.

"We need fucking guns!" Zayn shouted at Liam and Harry, who were still struggling with the locked doors.

Niall shouted for everyone to get back, stepped forward, and hurled a makeshift molotov cocktail, shielded his face with his arm as the explosive struck the ground. The fiery explosion forced the car menacingly closing in to swerve, providing a brief reprieve.

But the tide quickly turned.

More Raiders approached, and one managed to strike a powerful punch against Zayn's face, causing him to lose his grip on the bat. Seizing the opportunity, the Raider snatched the bat, wielding it as a weapon. At the same time, another Raider trapped Louis in a chokehold, his air supply slowly being constricted. Louis reached for his knife, desperate to free himself. Niall refused to be a passive bystander, lunging at the Raider holding Louis and landing powerful punches. The assailant staggered back, releasing Louis from the chokehold.

However, before Niall could capitalise on the moment, the other Raider swung the bat brutally, striking Niall's knee with an audible, sickening crack. Niall fell to the ground, his scream of agony piercing the air.

The agonised cries reached Harry and Liam as they struggled with the metal doors, causing them to panic.

"Niall!" Louis screamed desperately. Seizing an opening, Louis plunged his knife into the side of the Raider who had choked him, blood spraying as the assailant stumbled back and fell.

Louis swiftly turned to the Raider who had held him in the chokehold, delivering forceful punches to subdue him, all while avoiding retaliatory blows. Zayn moved up behind the disoriented man and delivered a powerful blow to the back of his head with the baseball bat, sending the Raider collapsing to the ground.

Amidst the chaos, they saw another car approaching, accompanied by the ominous sound of gunshots. Trembling but resolute, Louis and Zayn helped Niall to his feet, still wracked with pain. In the urgency of the moment, Harry picked up Niall, hoisting him over his shoulder with one arm. Zayn, Louis, and Harry went first, barely squeezing through the narrow gap created by Liam.

Once they entered the confined and dim tunnel of the tube station, they ran again.

Time became an indistinct blur as they navigated the depths of the basement, their sense of hours and minutes melting into a disorienting haze. The combination of dampness, dust, mold, and the faint stench of decomposing bodies enveloped them, making the air nearly unbreathable. The relentless fear of being captured by the Raiders continued to drive them forward. Despite their exhaustion, the urgency of finding a safe refuge pressed upon them. The most concerning development was Niall's sudden silence, a stark departure from his usual cheerful demeanour.

Their determination led them to a wider, cleaner road, seemingly devoid of life, where they discovered a student housing building, an ideal location for a temporary shelter. The enormous structure contained an overwhelming number of doors, rooms, and corridors spanning multiple floors. While the building didn't bear immediate signs of calamity, the group proceeded with cautious steps.

Prior to embarking on their exploration, Harry made a significant move by stopping Louis with his free hand. He handed his gun to Louis, who hesitated briefly before accepting it. Harry didn't release the gun immediately; he held it firmly, ensuring he made eye contact with Louis, conveying a clear warning.

At the end of the first corridor, a partially open door captured their attention. Faint sounds of movement emanated from the room, their source unknown. Louis and Liam took the lead, each subtly communicating with the other. With a nod, they gently pushed open the door, keeping their guns aimed low. The group entered the room cautiously, moving silently to avoid creating any noise. The space resembled a common room for students, complete with a large table, counters with microwaves and fridges, a coffee machine, and a small tray of chocolate snacks.

However, what intrigued and surprised them most was the sight of a man in the room. He was tall, wearing a cap and facing away from them, seemingly oblivious to their presence as he cleaned a bloody knife. In their past lives, this scene might have sent shivers down their spines, but in their current harsh reality, it felt all too common.

Liam advanced carefully to the left, gun raised, keeping a safe distance from the man's back. Louis stood directly behind him, providing cover for the rest of the group. They held their breath as they observed the man, who initially appeared nonthreatening, except for the bloodstained knife he held, dressed in dirty blue jeans and a simple dark jacket.

Finally, Liam gave the command, "Put your hands up," raising his own gun.

The man jolted at the sudden voice behind him, dropping the knife as he gasped. The room fell into a tense silence as everyone watched his reaction. Slowly, he raised his hands in the air and turned, finally facing Louis. Louis's arms faltered, lowering slowly as his mouth fell open in a silent gasp.

''Oli...?'' Louis whispered in disbelief.

Harry's head swivelled with such speed it nearly gave him whiplash. His eyes registered shock and curiosity as he observed Louis's reaction. Louis looked at the man, seemingly on the verge of tears, but the relief in his expression was unmistakable.

‘’Lou ?’’ the man responded.

In a sudden rush of emotion, the tall, skinny man disregarded the gun pointed at him and raced towards Louis. He gripped Louis tightly, pressing him against his chest, patting his back with a wet laugh. Harry witnessed Louis holding on to his friend, their embrace intimate and their eyes glossy, cheeks rosy. The man's cap fell from his head, revealing a shock of ginger hair. When they eventually broke their embrace, their eyes sparkled with tears of joy.

Exhausted, Harry carefully lowered Niall into a chair, wincing when Niall groaned in pain, his face pale and mouth dry. Zayn rushed to Niall's side, helping him out of his coat and taking his bag to make him more comfortable.

"What happened to him?" Oli asked, pointing at Niall with a worried expression, and then gesturing toward Harry's bloodstained figure. "And... to him?"

Louis hesitated before murmuring, "It's a long story," and then embraced his friend again, releasing a heavy breath as if he had been holding it for months, finally allowing himself to breathe.

Oli, overwhelmed with happiness, laughed and clung to Louis. "Bloody hell, Lou! I thought - I can't believe you're here!"

Louis tried to hold back tears, his voice trembling. "I can't believe it either, mate."

Before Louis could add anything else, a noise at the door of the room caught everyone's attention. All eyes locked onto the newcomer, a taller, tanner, and bulkier man with raven hair. He had a sling around his shoulder, holding a shotgun, and wore the same khaki and navy-coloured outfit as the Raiders. Liam immediately raised his gun at him, ready to defend the group.

The man seemed oblivious to their presence, fumbling with something in his hands as he entered the room. "Oli, mate, look what I f—"

He stopped abruptly when he finally raised his head and saw their group. At first, he appeared panicked, his fingers twitching where they gripped the shotgun. But as his gaze settled on each of the new faces before him and finally landed on Louis and Oli, the object he was holding fell to the ground with a click.

His mouth fell slightly agape, and it was clear from his sharp intake of breath that he was as shocked as Oli was to see their old friends. However, from Harry's perspective, there was something different in the way he looked at Louis.

Louis' hand slowly fell from Oli's shoulders, his chest heaving as he gulped. Both of them took a cautious step toward each other, hesitant. Then, the dark-haired man tossed his gun aside and let it clatter to the floor. He moved closer to Louis, sweeping him off the ground with strong arms wrapped around his thin waist and crushing him against his chest. His nose nuzzled behind Louis' ear, and it was an intimate gesture that didn't go unnoticed by the onlookers, particularly Harry.

Zayn immediately turned his gaze to Harry, and it was clear that the reunion between Louis and the dark-haired man was more than just friends reuniting after a long separation. Harry licked his lips to erase the bitter taste in his mouth and averted his eyes when he saw Louis' hand buried in the man's hair, holding his head pressed to his neck. Jealousy gnawed at him, a complicated and unwelcome emotion.

The heavy yet emotional atmosphere was momentarily disrupted by the sound of someone clearing his throat a bit too loudly for it to be natural. All eyes turned to Harry. ‘’I don’t want to interrupt, but Niall really needs help.’’

Louis, as if snapping back to reality and the urgency of their situation, quickly moved away from the emotional reunion and rushed over to Niall. Niall, his face covered in sweat, chest heaving, and eyes barely open, looked to be in a dire state.

"Niall ? Hey, mate?" Liam's voice was unexpectedly gentle as he crouched beside Niall. "We need to check your leg, alright?"

Niall responded with a grimace, shaking his head, and sought refuge in Zayn's protective embrace. However, even from Harry's vantage point, it was clear that Niall's leg was in a critical condition. The swelling was visibly pronounced, the thin denim doing little to conceal it.

"Let's get him onto the table. Oli, can you fetch the medical stuff we found last time?" Came the dark hair man’s voice, as he remained closely positioned behind Louis, ready to assist. ‘’What happened ?’’

"Got struck in the knee by a Raider. With a bat. He was... trying to help me," Louis admitted, his eyes falling to the ground, burdened with guilt.

"It's not your fault," Harry quickly reassured him, his arms crossed on his chest as he kept a watchful eye on them.

Louis’ friend raised his head towards Harry, and they exchanged a long, searching gaze. His hand suddenly tightened around Louis' hip, and he planted a small kiss on the top of Louis' head, his eyes locked onto Harry's face.

When Oli returned with a bag full of medicine, pills, bandages, and more, the room fell silent. The heavy atmosphere was laden with tension as the boys gathered around Niall, who lay on the table. As Louis grabbed a pair of scissors to cut open Niall's trousers and reveal his knee, grotesquely swollen and discoloured, it became clear that the situation was dire. The bone was unnaturally distorted, and the urgency to fix it was palpable. Louis's gaze lifted from the wound to Harry, who was fixated on the dark, purple bruise.

To avoid drawing Niall's attention, they huddled at the back of the room with Oli, who had just given Niall three painkillers, accompanied by a generous pour of whiskey they had found.

"It's completely dislocated..." Louis murmured, his worry evident. "I don't know what to do. We can't leave him like this."

"Wait," Oli interjected, giving Harry's chest a playful yet meaningful pat. Harry shot him an offended glance, but Oli returned with a book. "It's a student residence. Some of them might be trying to get a medical diploma or something. Look."

He handed the book to Harry, and all three of them flipped through its pages. After a couple of minutes, Oli pointed to what appeared to be instructions on how to relocate a dislocated bone.

"But... who can do it? None of us are doctors or nurses, and we're not in a hospital," Harry asked, feeling discouraged. When he received no immediate answer and found both Louis and Oli looking at him, he shook his head vehemently. "No, no, no, no way. I'm not going to do it."

"But, Harry," Louis began, placing his hand on Harry's chest to calm him, "we don't have any other options. It's for Niall. We have to try."

Harry stayed silent, trying to come up with a counterargument, but ultimately, he sighed and nodded, attempting to shake off his nerves. Just as he was about to voice his doubts, the dark haired guy approached, softly pushing Louis' hand away from Harry's chest.

"Ready?"

Louis quickly briefed everyone on what was about to happen. Niall's groans of pain painted a grim picture, the agony etched on his face as he shifted uncomfortably. Zayn moved to sit on the table, cradling Niall's cheek and gently lifting his head to rest it on his thigh. He stroked Niall's hair softly, attempting to provide some solace as the others prepared themselves. Harry, a mix of anxiety and determination, shed his bloody hoodie, rolled his shoulders, and exhaled deeply in an attempt to steady his nerves. Carefully, he climbed onto the table, positioning himself on his knees above Niall. Liam stood close by, ready to restrain Niall's waist and keep him from moving, while Louis firmly held Niall's hand.

Thanks to the combination of medication, alcohol, and Niall's pain, he appeared somewhat disoriented, only partially aware of what was transpiring around him. He turned his head slightly toward Louis, his eyes questioning and weak.

Louis withdrew his jackknife, bringing it to Niall's lips, "Bite down on this, Niall." He inserted the knife forcefully between Niall's lips, a makeshift means of suppressing the forthcoming scream.

With trembling hands, Harry gently sought the spot Oli had indicated. Niall, wracked with pain, twitched a little, but Harry held on. Liam, struggling to keep Niall steady, encouraged him, "Hold on, mate, just a little longer. You're doing great."

Louis squeezed Niall's hand even tighter, his voice thick with emotion. "We're here for you, Niall, all the way."

"Niall," Harry called, waiting for the brunette to meet his gaze. He peered deeply into Niall's eyes, silently begging him to trust and forgive him for what he was about to do. "I'm sorry."

As Oli counted down, Harry steeled himself, and with a swift, calculated motion, he seized Niall's knee and realigned the dislocated bone. The room was filled with the echoing crack as Niall let out a muffled scream, his body arching, his grip on Louis's hand almost crushing his fingers. The veins on his neck bulged as he gasped for air.

After the ordeal, they slowly released Niall, and Zayn kept a close watch on his friend, whose panting and moans of pain continued. Louis removed the jackknife from Niall's mouth and wiped away the sweat on his face until Niall surrendered to the pain and slipped into unconsciousness.

Harry exhaled, sinking back on his haunches and running a hand through his hair. His gaze remained fixed on Niall, but in his peripheral vision, he noticed Luke returning from Louis and offering a comforting hand on his back.

"Well, it's nice to meet you all," Oli said, attempting to break the tension with a touch of humour.

Louis disengaged from his apparent friend, but Oli kept a firm arm around Louis's waist, unwilling to let him out of his embrace. "Guys, this is Oli," Louis introduced the ginger-haired man. "He's my best friend. We grew up together, did everything together, really." Louis cleared his throat and continued, "And this is Luke." He gestured toward the tall man who still held onto his hip.

Harry's eyes remained locked on Luke. Realisation washed over him. The apartment they had stayed in, the room they had slept in, and the photograph Louis had clutched earlier were all connected to this Luke. Harry couldn't quite pinpoint the source of the sudden heaviness in his chest and throat, but his pulse quickened.

With an overly polite smile on his face, Luke nodded at Harry, his gaze lingering a bit too long before returning to Louis, where he squeezed him and whispered something in his ear. Louis laughed and reciprocated, their connection evident.

"I think we should talk," Luke suggested, his gaze still fixed on Louis.

Tensions swirled in the cramped room, mirroring the harsh realities that had driven them together. Niall's knee had ballooned, displaying a nasty, purplish bruise that covered a substantial portion of his skin. While relocating it had alleviated some of his pain, the injury remained excruciating, and the painkillers had cast a drowsy spell over him. His head had now found a cosy nook between Zayn's neck and shoulder, a temporary refuge from the torment of his condition.

Their situation had shifted into a place of relative safety. Oli had informed them that the building was vacant, and they had managed to restore electricity and water through a basement generator. Food and clothing were plentiful, remnants of the previous student occupants. Now, with Niall unconscious and relatively stable, they were free to discuss their next moves. The group gathered, eyes heavy from exhaustion, and minds burdened by the intensity of their experiences.

''Man, I can't believe you're alive...'' Oli said, his eyes locked on Louis with deep affection.

"I know... I've been searching for you all,'' Louis replied with a soft smile. ''But where is Stan?''

Both Luke and Oli's expressions darkened, their eyes dropping to the ground. An unsettling silence settled in as they avoided answering. Harry, while focusing on Louis, felt a heaviness in his chest, sensing the gravity of the unspoken truth.

"Guys?" Louis pressed, raising his head, his anticipation palpable.

"He..." Oli started, but Luke interjected, his voice weighed down.

"He didn't make it," Luke said, his eyes finally returning to Louis, whose smile had vanished from his face. "He got shot by a Raider."

A collective sense of grief and sadness rippled through the room, the grim reality of their predicament pressing down on them. Harry bit the inside of his cheek, struggling to restrain the surge of emotion that threatened to overtake him.

"We've been staying here since. It's clean, there is food. It's safe."

"Safe?" Liam scoffed beside Harry. "I'm sorry, but there's like... a regiment of Raiders all across that damn town. How could that be safe?"

"Yeah, and thanks to you guys, you might have attracted them here," Luke shot back, unflinchingly.

Louis's head snapped up, Zayn's hand halting in mid-air. It was as if a sudden storm had blown into the room, charged with frustration and anxiety.

''Um, sorry,'' Luke amended, his tone softening. ''It's just... it's a lot. Losing Stan and, you know.'' He fixed Louis with a saddened gaze. ''We thought we would never see you again.''

Louis found himself momentarily speechless. The swirling mix of emotions, encompassing relief, grief, and sadness, left him bewildered. The persistent aches from their arduous journey only added to the muddle of sensations.

"But it's true,'' Liam interjected, "It's probably not safe to stay here anymore."

"We have to stay until Niall gets better,'' Louis argued.

"There's no chance he will get better," Luke said with an uncharacteristic chill in his tone. "It's broken. Probably shattered in pieces. If we have to move, he's going to slow us down."

Louis's mouth hung agape in shock, and the room's inhabitants collectively turned their heads toward Luke, their brows knitted in disbelief.

"There is no way we're leaving him behind,'' Louis vehemently defended.

"Lou, I'm sorry, but... It's true. It's him or everyone," Luke countered.

An unsettling silence settled over the room, marked by the sound of Niall's laboured breathing as he dozed.

"No one is going to stay behind. We need to find a way for his injury. We all need to rest. We will figure everything else out tomorrow," Harry insisted.

Luke, with his annoying, stubborn pride and a hint of jealousy, challenged Harry’s authority. "So you're the boss now, is it?"

Harry's eyes narrowed, his knee bouncing involuntarily as he struggled to contain the burning anger welling within him.

"I'm sorry if we disturbed your peace, but we're not leaving anyone behind. That's it. It's not up for debate."

"I don't think you're the one to decide that," Luke retorted.

"Luke," Louis warned, stepping in front of Luke before he could get closer to Harry.

"We had that plan to head North,'' Zayn interjected, sensing that another confrontation was imminent. "Niall said there's a survivor camp up there."

"Yeah, we've heard about that too," Oli added.

"I'm not leaving," Luke shook his head. "It's madness. You saw them, like I did. Look what they did to your friend. Why would we risk it?"

"So you plan to stay here forever? You don't even want to try?" Louis asked with genuine curiosity.

"Stan is dead, Louis!" Luke's voice rose. "He's gone. That could have been me or Oli." He sighed, his hands shielding his face before dropping them to his lap. "If we have to leave, he's not coming." He pointed at Niall.

''No one told you to come with,'' Harry said, his tone quiet but laced with an undercurrent of tension. He focused on an arbitrary point in the room, avoiding making eye contact with Luke as he pressed his fingers into his own thigh.

Everything happened in a blur after that. Luke sprung from his chair, ready to confront Harry with an air of haughtiness, chest puffed out and fiery. Harry stood as well, his chair falling to the ground with a thud behind him. But he did not advance; he didn't even look upset, more bored than anything. Still, his gaze was menacing enough that Louis rose from the sofa and interposed himself right in front of Luke to block his way.

''Guys,'' Liam interjected, rising from his seat, with Oli following suit.

Luke stopped right in front of Louis, but for a long moment, his eyes stayed fixated on Harry's face. And after levelling him with a nasty look, he finally gave his attention to Louis, looking down at him with disappointment.

"You don't even know him,'' Luke said with resentment, probably shocked that Louis had chosen to stand with Harry and not with him.

"You are being ridiculous,'' Louis said with a cold tone, not moving an inch. Despite being the smallest in the group, he exuded authority, a quiet command that defied his size. And now standing with his legs spread and his chin high, eyes piercing blue, Harry saw Luke hesitant, a smirt blooming on his face without his consent.

"What's funny?" Luke asked.

"Come on, man,'' Oli said behind, tugging on Luke's arm to make him step back a bit. But the dark-haired one resisted.

"We are going to have some rest and we will do something for Niall tomorrow. Judging by how it's going, we will see how we organise our departure. We won't bother you too long, don't worry,'' Harry said, his voice surprisingly still and low, using his height to look over Louis’ head.

''If you are so eager to leave, why don't you do it now then?'' Luke asked with a playful raise of his eyebrow, clearly provoking.

"Okay, guys, it's okay now, let's just all sleep on it,'' Liam said, coming closer to the group.

"Why don't you just shut your mouth for a second?'' Harry spat, finally losing his patience and his faux calm, clenching his jaw.

"Oh,'' Luke mocked, ''He has teeth. Did you know that, Lou?''

"Okay enough,'' Louis said, turning to Harry and silently urging him to let it go.

Harry struggled not to look down at Louis. The proximity between them and Louis's unwavering, intense gaze made it almost impossible. When their eyes met, Harry's shoulders slumped, and he sighed, running a bloody hand through his curls. He bypassed Luke and headed to the door, hoping to find a bedroom to calm his nerves.

"Obeying like a good boy as well, you did a good job with this one, Lou,'' Luke taunted from behind.

"Wanker,'' Harry muttered under his breath as he reached the door. Liam followed behind.

Luke turned toward Harry, placing his hand next to his mouth before shouting, ''You kiss your mom with that mouth?''

That was the last straw.

Liam reacted first.

Harry let go of the backpack and turned around so quickly that even Louis momentarily feared for his safety. His face contorted with rage and anger, his eyes dark, and his jaw clenched. He tried to get to Luke, but Liam's arms held him back, trying to contain his fury. Harry tried to rip Liam off his body, groaning and advancing even though Liam was doing everything he could to hold him back, and Louis could only watch, shock and anger clearly visible on Harry's features.

"Harry! Stop it!'' Liam screamed, struggling to contain his fury and anger, having to exert all his strength to slide in front of Harry and literally hug him to keep him away from Luke.

Louis stood, his shock mingling with the pain and anger etched on Harry's face. He knew that a simple phrase like that wouldn't provoke such a reaction if there wasn't something more beneath the surface. As he turned his eyes to Luke and saw him laughing and smiling, making provocative gestures, he realised he'd pushed Harry to the brink on purpose.

''What the fuck is wrong with you?'' Louis asked, pushing Luke back and stepping in front of him.

Liam had finally succeeded in restraining Harry, who had chosen to leave the room in fury, not even bothering to grab his bag and vanishing alone into the corridors.

"That was low, mate,'' Oli said from behind Louis.

''Never say shit like that again!'' Liam said suddenly, his voice loud enough to silence the room. He pointed a finger at Luke, his eyes dark with anger. "Did you hear me?!''

Luke finally appeared to be somewhat afraid, swallowing hard and looking away.

With a heavy sigh and a disappointed shake of his head, Louis turned away from his friend and passed Liam and Oli to the door. He took his bag and Harry's, but when he reached the door, a hand on his wrist stopped him. Turning around, he found Liam, who looked at him with anxiety and hesitation.

Louis gazed back, silently assuring Liam that he wouldn't allow anything to upset Harry further. With that, Liam let him go.

Louis was running through the corridors, feeling desperate as he had already explored the first two floors unsuccessfully. Each corridor seemed like a labyrinth with at least a dozen rooms, making finding someone in this maze more challenging than he had initially thought. Just as he was about to give up and make his way back, he heard a loud crash that seemed to be coming from the top floor.

Rushing up the stairs, Louis reached the floor and was met with the sight of a chair and a desk in the middle of the hallway, which had very clearly just been thrown there. More thuds and crashes could be heard, leading him to the last room at the end. The door had a massive hole in it, as if someone had kicked it with a heavy boot. Louis left the two bags he was carrying at the entrance and cautiously pushed the door open.

Inside, he found Harry standing with his back to the door, facing the white wall in the middle of a completely ravaged room. Both of Harry’s hands were linked behind his neck, his head tilted back. He was breathing heavily and even from his position at the door, it was obvious that he was shaking. Louis took a couple of steps toward him, but Harry’s low and deep voice made him stop.

“Liam, I really want to be alone now.’’ He muttered, bringing both of his palms to his face.

Louis didn’t hesitate and kept advancing. He squeezed into the small space between the wall and Harry and as he reached him, he gently took hold of Harry’s wrists and slipped his head between his arms, forcing Harry’s hands behind his neck.

Surprised, and seemingly realising that it wasn’t in fact Liam, Harry opened his eyes, looking down at Louis with slight shock and incomprehension. Despite the anger still etched on his face, Louis forced his hands to stay around his neck. The expression on Harry's face troubled him. He could use disapproval, disappointment, and disdain. He was capable of irritability and even lust. But he didn't enjoy the dullness, the ache.

Not knowing what words would be right of use, not knowing how to fix it and feeling oddly guilty, Louis simply brought his lips to Harry’s jaw, leaving one then two open kisses on the skin right there.

“What are you doing ?’’ Harry asked, trying to pull his head away but keeping his hand behind Louis’ neck. He groaned when Louis went for his neck, as smaller hands made their way to his sides. ‘’Sex is not going to fix it.’’

“That’s not what I’m doing.’’ Louis answered against his skin, finally pulling his head away. “I feel like I need to say sorry. Even if I don’t know why.’’

Harry lifted an eyebrow at him while snorting. “Maybe because your mate is a complete prick?''

Louis didn't respond to it. The fact that he was here doing that was worth far more than anything he could have said. And they were both aware of it. So, with a sigh, Harry let him calm down by placing his hands on his back and his mouth on his neck. Even though his heart was still constricting in the same way, he gently let go of the strain.

Louis spoke after a few minutes of them standing in silence. ''You take a shower and try to relax.'' He drew back slightly, noting how he felt cold without Harry's body nearby.

"And where are you going?" Harry inquired from the same position point, just with his head turned to look at him.

Louis searched for his words, paused briefly before smiling. ''Check on Niall,'' he said before leaving.

And even if they both knew he was lying, no one said anything more.

When Louis reentered the common room, he found it deserted except for Luke. It crossed his mind that the others must have attended to Niall, relocating him to a quieter space, and then proceeded to the showers, all in anticipation of some well-deserved rest. Despite the weariness tugging at his eyelids and muscles, Louis didn't feel anywhere close to ready for sleep. There was something deeper, something more profound than the recent events involving Harry and his friend that troubled him.

As Luke approached, bearing his usual grin and open arms for a hug, Louis instinctively took a step back, his expression hardening.

"Come on, Lou," Luke implored, chuckling softly, moving even closer, making Louis manoeuvre around a chair. "What's bothering you?"

"What's... Are you kidding?" Louis huffed, irritation evident in his voice. "What the fuck happened? Why would you do that?"

"What did I do wrong?"

"You were implying leaving Niall behind!"

"He's injured! How do you expect him to run or fight like this? You don’t even know him."

"Well, no one forced you to join us."

At that, Luke halted in his tracks and gazed at Louis with a mixture of hurt and disappointment on his face. "You sound just like him."

Louis rolled his eyes, turning his head away to avoid looking at him. "You have to stop."

"You went to my flat," he stated, not as a question but as a fact. He took another step, and when he saw Louis attempting to respond, he interrupted him once more. "You went to my flat, and he's wearing my clothes." His tone turned slightly colder and more resolute, his eyes fixed on Louis, who found himself cornered against the wall. "You hardly know the guy, and now everything he says is more important than me?"

"That's not what I said," Louis retorted, standing taller and straighter, as much as he could. "They're my friends, and I-"

"Friends?" Luke scoffed. "Oli is your friend. Stan was your friend. I'm your friend. You-"

"Are you?" Louis cut him off, pushing past him to free himself from the wall, only to be restrained by the elbow. He turned around aggressively, disliking how Luke was holding him back. "Are you my friend, Luke? Is that what it is?"

"Louis, don't do this. I just found you."

"Yet you admitted it, we brought danger to you."

"That's not what I meant, Lou, come on."

"Luke, let me go." Louis pulled on his arm, but Luke held him even closer, attempting to block him between his body and the table. "Let me go!" Louis tried to push, but exhaustion was apparent in his muscles.

"Lou, come on, don't be like this. I'm-"

"Is everything okay there?"

Liam's voice cut through their struggle, and they both turned their heads to the doorway, where Liam stood in a simple white tank top, his tattooed muscles defined. He held a bloodied cloth in his hand, wiping his fingers, his gaze fixed on Luke.

"Everything is fine," Luke replied, with no intention of releasing Louis.

Liam then entered the room, a conspicuous gun visible in the front of his dark jeans. Louis observed Luke carefully, unsure of how to react. He felt a bit embarrassed to be caught in this situation by Liam of all people, yet somewhat relieved. He took the chance to slip away from Luke's grasp, but Luke grabbed his fingers.

"Lou..."

He was quickly cut off by Liam, who had crossed the room and put an arm around Louis' shoulders, bringing him close. "Lou needs to shower and sleep," Liam declared, leaving no room for argument.

Louis, unable to comprehend the sudden care from Liam, simply nodded when Liam indicated for him to leave the room first. He didn't linger and made his way to the upper floor.

Back in the room, Luke ran his tongue along his gums, raising his chin to appear more imposing. Despite being taller, he wasn't bulkier or stronger than Liam. Liam casually wiped the remaining blood from his hands and fixed Luke with a cold, hard stare. When he spoke, his voice was filled with anger and warning.

"You’ve asked if Harry was the boss.’ he sighed. “This is my team, I make the decisions, and I'm telling you-" He dropped the cloth at Luke's feet and tilted his head to the side with a crack. “No one gets left behind. And if, only if, I decide to let you come with us, you don't get to say a word. I don't want you trying anything with Louis, don't use your friendship against any of us. I don't give a damn fuck. I won't hesitate to leave you behind if you keep causing problems."

Without waiting for a response, Liam turned his back on the dark-haired man, exiting the room to rejoin Zayn and Niall.

Harry, freshly showered and tucked into his bed within the softly illuminated student room, wrestled with the elusive embrace of slumber. Nevertheless, his thoughts persistently gravitated toward the recent two-day stint they'd spent in the cosy Camden flat. He couldn't help but reminisce about the moment Louis had walked into that very room, clutching photographs of his friends. Presently, Harry couldn't shake the nagging suspicion that Luke might be just another passing acquaintance. This friendship appeared far from straightforward and innocent.

What weighed on Harry the most was the fact that it shouldn't perturb him to this extent. It shouldn't provoke such a potent blend of anger and helplessness. Yet his mind continued to replay images of Luke's hands on Louis, his affectionate gestures, and the whispered conversations. He tossed and turned on the narrow bed, facing the wall, tightly clutching the pillow to his chest, yearning for his racing heart to subside.

As his eyelids grew heavier, he discerned the hurried footsteps echoing in the hallway, seemingly coming to a halt right outside his door. He propped himself up on his elbows, the blanket slipping from his bare chest to gather around his waist, and waited. It might have seemed foolish to entertain the notion that Louis might visit him once more, but deep down, he knew that Louis was likely sharing laughter and whispers with Luke, catching up on lost time.

The footsteps gradually receded, until the only sound he could discern was the door next to his room slamming shut with force.

Chapter 16: Liverpool Road

Chapter Text

"Niall," Louis called, gently shaking the brunette sprawled on the bed. Despite the eerie and chilly air in the room, Niall's body was coated with a thin layer of sweat. "Niall, hey." He shook him a bit more assertively this time.

With a sudden gasp, Niall's bright blue eyes shot open. Reflexively, he attempted to sit up, only to wince in pain and slump back down, hands instinctively shielding his face. "Jesus! What happened?"

Louis, perched on a plastic chair, considered whether to divulge the truth or concoct a more comforting tale. He brought his elbows to his knees and offered a reassuring smile. "You saved my life, lad."

Niall shifted on the bed, wincing as he moved. Louis swiftly rose from his chair to help him, guiding him into a more comfortable position and adjusting the pillow behind his back. Once settled, Niall glanced down at his swollen, blueish knee. "Uh... remind me to never try to be a hero again," he said jokingly, a weak smile forming despite the pain. Louis chuckled, relieved to see his friend in good spirits.

In the building's common room, Zayn busied himself in the makeshift kitchen, cooking breakfast for everyone. With his black henley pushed up at the elbow, he used the portable gas oven to prepare some eggs salvaged from the chaos. He revealed the array of food and the ample cooking space. As he focused on his culinary task, two large tattooed arms snaked around his waist. A cold nose and wet lips brushed against the side of his neck, prompting him to tilt his head away with a soft chuckle.

"Give me the salt," He spoke softly with a smile and a nudge of his hip.

Behind him, Liam groaned and tightened his arms around Zayn, nuzzling his nose into his shoulder. Zayn shook his head fondly, attempting to reach for the salt with his free hand. In that moment, they stood in comfortable silence, basking in each other's presence.

However, as Liam was about to resume his affectionate gestures, the creaking sound of the door opening behind them made him jump. Liam shifted awkwardly, pressing against the counter and bracing his hands against it. Harry stood in the doorway, looking as uncomfortable as Liam felt, and offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile before heading to the table.

"Breakfast will be ready soon," Zayn spoke softly, as if nothing was amiss.

Liam kept his gaze on Harry, sensing immediately that something was wrong. From the furrowed brow to the tense mouth and the cold aura surrounding him, it was evident. As Harry reached discreetly for Zayn's cigarette pack on the table and quietly left the room, Liam knew he had to follow.

So, with a shared look with Zayn, he trailed Harry out and up the stairs to the last floor. When Harry slipped onto the rooftop, Liam joined him without hesitation. Sitting on the edge, their feet dangled into the void as they shared a cigarette for the first time, their gazes fixed on the grey sky and the remaining buildings. Liam could feel the weight of the atmosphere around Harry, waiting for the right moment to speak.

"I'm sorry."

Harry's frown deepened, his hand pausing before the cigarette filter could touch his lips. "For what?"

"For the way I've been acting since the beginning."

Harry shook his head, taking a long drag of the cigarette and blowing the smoke into the wind. "We've already been through that."

"No," Liam said firmly. "I... I'm sorry for trying to tell you what to do, what you could do. I've been shit with Louis too. All the while, I was doing the same with Zayn, behind your back. I was shit."

Harry shrugged, letting go of the cigarette and watching it fall. "It's alright."

"I was scared," Liam admitted shyly. "I'm still scared."

After a moment of silence, Harry asked, "Of what?"

"I-" Liam sighed, shoulders slouching. He rose from the edge, patting the back of his jeans to clean them. "We could have lost Niall. But that could have been..."

"Zayn?" Harry asked without having to look at him.

"Zayn," Liam repeated, softer, like a whisper. "And the mere fact that I don't even know now what I would do if it was either you or him, it kills me."

Harry got up, patting his trousers, leaning against the low wall and crossing his arms on his chest. "You know no one would hold it against you if one day you have to choose him. I wish you would choose him actually."

"No, but-" Liam groaned. "I've grown with you. I know your family, you know mine," he said while tapping his chest. "We've gotten drunk together for the first time, worked together, we..." He shook his head. "But now when I'm out there, the only thing I can think about is him."

Staying silent again, torturing his lips with his finger, Harry tilted his head, probably trying to assimilate the words. "You love him."

Liam froze, hands still mid-air. He looked at Harry in silence, searching for something in his eyes before slowly looking down, admitting it all without even the need to speak.

''Liam,'' Harry spoke softly for the first time today, ''It's alright. I'd rather know you're living happily in that shitty world than be stuck with me mourning for him.'' He smiled at Liam when he frowned, ''I understand.''

After another moment of silence, where they both knew exactly what Harry was referring to, Liam sighed again, using both hands to scrape at his face. ''There is something else I'm sorry about.''

"What is it?" Harry asked, sitting down again and placing another cigarette between his lips.

"For not letting you punch him.''

With that, Harry's head instantly snapped up. ''Why?''

"It's just... I don't trust him.''

Staring at Liam with an annoyed gaze, Harry watched as Liam started to slowly pace around on the dirty rooftop ground, following his silhouette with hard eyes.

"I just feel like...'' Liam stopped in his steps, ''If we really do that, go out there, all together.'' He then turned to Harry, gesturing with his hand between the two of them, ''We need to stick together. You, Louis, Zayn, Niall, and me. We need to be even more united than before. No one can be left behind, no matter what.''

Narrowing his eyes with difficulty understanding his friend, Harry tilted his head only a tiny bit, unsure and troubled. ''What do you mean? You think--'' He stopped to think for a minute, his eyes drifting to the ground before returning to his friend's face, ''You think he could betray us?''

Biting his lower lip, Liam said, ''I think if Louis or him were to be in danger, he would sacrifice one of us without a doubt. Especially after what I saw last n-'' Liam stopped in his sentence, guilty and shocked eyes looking at Harry, like he had just said too much.

"What? What happened last night?'' Harry immediately rushed to ask, getting rid of his half-smoked cigarette and getting up to be closer to his friend. ''Liam. What happened?''

''I saw them,'' Liam sighed, ''Zayn and I put Niall to sleep, and while Zayn was in the shower, I went down to take my bag. I heard voices. Like... Like people fighting. They were in the common room, and ... It looked like Louis was not really willing to talk to him. But Luke.. He wouldn't let go of him.'' Liam added with a look of anger and remorse, shaking his head. ''Harry, he was forcing him, physically.''

Nostrils flaring and jaw clenching, Harry preferred to close his eyes to restrain himself from any reactions.

With a hand on Harry's shoulder, Liam finally spoke. ''I'm on your side.''

After exiting Niall's room, Louis took the opportunity while Luke had disappeared to sneak into a room with Oli.

Sitting together at the edge of the window in that small dorm room, Louis smoking and Oli playing with an empty water bottle, they talked. About nothing and everything, really. They began with high school, Oli reminiscing about all the things Louis had forced him into. The conversation then drifted to Louis's first tattoo and his subsequent obsession with them. They talked about girls, parties, and old memories.

‘’And remember when we took the bikes to the Dome, and it started pouring outside. When we arrived at your place an hour late, covered in mud. Your mom never looked so angry in her whole life,’’ Oli laughed, his eyes still focused on the remnants of what used to be a park downstairs. But when he heard nothing, he suddenly realised his words.

Next to him, Louis's smile had frozen on his face, and his eyes slowly got covered with a thin watery shield, the ash from his cigarette falling by itself from his own incapacity to move.

“Shit, mate.. I-’’

“It’s fine.’’ Louis answered, throwing away the already self-consumed cigarette. ‘’I- We talked on the radio, like… seven months ago. Me and my mum.’’

“Wow…’’ Oli said, ‘’What did she say? What about the twins?’’

Louis nodded before answering, trying to assure his friends it was okay, or maybe to assure himself. ‘’Yeah.. She said they were fine. But now…. I just..’’

A kind hand landed on his shoulder, stopping his rambling but also halting his racing mind and his gut-eating guilt. ‘’Hey.’’ Oli spoke, finally attracting Louis' attention to him. ‘'You have the strongest family I know. Your mom is truly amazing, and let's not talk about your sisters. You survived here, I am sure they did too. I'm sure they did better than you.''

That pulled a wet chuckle out of Louis, who used his wrist to wipe under his nose and hide his shaky lips. But nothing he would do could fool Oli, the one and only person to know him better than anyone. So the ginger one simply hooked his arm around his neck and pulled Louis against his chest.

"Did I tell you how I took down twenty zombies by myself?''

And that forced a loud laugh from Louis, while Oli kept recounting long and unreal stories about his own journey.

"Okay, I give up," Liam complained, releasing his grip on Niall's body as they reached the bed and placing a hand on his lower back with a grimace.

After breakfast and throughout the whole afternoon, Liam and Harry had taken turns caring for the wounded brunette, carrying, holding, helping, and feeding him. Apparently, Niall took sick pleasure in teasing and asking them for the smallest things, displaying a huge, stupid grin each time one of them would start carrying him and proudly calling himself a princess.

"Hey!" Niall exclaimed with a fake frown, shuffling on the bed to sit properly. Harry, still silent but with the same annoyed grimace, helped arrange Niall's legs on a pillow. "I'm fragile and innocent, be gentle."

"Fuck off," Liam responded with a fake smile and a tilt of his head, heading out of the room.

"It's racism against Irish people!" Niall screamed from the bed.

Too focused on Liam's departing silhouette, Niall was startled to hear a low chuckle coming from Harry, who was still trying to adjust a second pillow under his ankle, apparently scared to hurt him by moving too much. Niall observed him carefully, noting the deepening crease between his brows and the caution with which he took hold of his injured leg, lifting it to place the soft pillow underneath.

"You'll end up with some nasty wrinkle if you keep being so cynical.''

Harry's eyes flew to him quickly, not losing the frown and the small concentrated snarl. But once he got the pillow perfectly in place, he gave a small sigh. "Might not live until that day."

Losing his smile, Niall looked down at his knee. ''Thanks for the reassuring words, mate. Cheers.''

Before even reaching the door, Harry stopped in his step with his hand mid-air. He turned his head first, and when he saw the sad air on the usually cheerful and smiling brunette, he cursed himself mentally before making his way back close to the bed.

Awkwardly and having never really spent much time with the brunette alone, Harry let himself down on the chair that was put next to the bed, toying with the cross necklace dangling from his neck. "Sorry.'' He muttered.

Niall shook his head dismissively, with a small pout and eyes downcast. "It's fine. I know you don't want to be stuck with me; you can...'' He gestured with his hand toward the door, ''just do whatever you wanted to do.''

Overwhelmed by a surge of guilt, Harry found himself unaccustomed to witnessing Niall in such a despondent state. Opting for a comfortable position in a chair, he casually crossed one leg over the other and rested an elbow on the armrest, idly toying with the necklace in his grasp.

"How are you feeling?" Harry inquired, diverting the conversation and directing his gaze toward Niall's exposed knee.

"Okay, I guess," Niall replied with a nonchalant shrug. "Like I got hit by a damn truck. Could've been worse."

Pausing for a moment, Harry let go of the necklace. "What you did back there was impressive."

Niall's eyes lit up like a child on Christmas morning. His face turned toward Harry, a smile breaking across his lips. "I panicked. Can't even remember what I did, but... yeah."

"You saved Louis and Zayn. You took down a guy," Harry acknowledged.

Caught between pride and guilt for taking another's life, Niall nodded slightly, fidgeting with his fingers. A silence settled over the room, punctuated only by distant chatter and the murmur of the wind outside.

"I'm sorry," Niall suddenly spoke, prompting Harry's eyebrow to raise and then furrow.

"What do you have to be sorry for?"

Niall gestured toward his injured knee. "For this. We're stuck now because of me. And I—"

"No," Harry interrupted, shaking his head, his eyes hardening. "No."

"But I—"

"Listen." Harry uncrossed his legs, leaning forward with elbows on his knees, thumbs idly playing with the scruff on his chin. "You saved two of us out there. In the mall, you whipped up a Molotov out of nowhere. You got the lights back on when we were in the dark." He shook his head, a small smile forming. "No one's getting left behind, and if we have to wait for you to heal, we will."

Niall remained silent, taken aback by the warmth in Harry's words and the depth of care shown. However, a frown crept back onto his face. "At first, you didn't want Louis to save me, I thought."

"Yeah, well," Harry leaned back in the chair, stretching his arms above his head. "You're here now."

Another silence passed, less awkward and burdensome, more comforting. Niall began to smile, catching Harry's attention. "What?"

"Do you think we'll make it?"

Facing Niall's hopeful eyes and innocent smile, Harry couldn't bring himself to voice his own cynical thoughts. He looked away, staring out the window, then down at the small scars on his forearms, reminders etched into his skin since the chaos began.

"I have someone, you know," Niall shared, drawing Harry's gaze once more. "Met her two years ago. She's beautiful." A chuckle escaped him, eyes welling up as he stared at a small ring on his finger. "Never thought someone like me could find a girl like her, you know? Look at me." He gestured at his body. "Always the good friend, the funny one, the safe one. Never the boyfriend." Wiping his nose, he sighed. "I wanted to marry her so bad. Every time, I thought, 'just say it, just ask her.' And I always thought, 'I'll do it another time.'"

Harry's own eyes stung as he observed the tremble in Niall's chin. Swallowing hard, he leaned forward on the chair.

"There's no other time," Niall's voice wavered, barely above a whisper as his head dropped, a tear rolling down his cheek.

Without overthinking, Harry reached out, placing his hand over Niall's on the bed, offering a reassuring squeeze. When their eyes met, an unspoken understanding passed between them, laden with emotion and fear.

"We'll make it. Together."

The door creaked open behind them, jolting them both. Maintaining his hand in place, Harry turned his head to glance over his shoulder, lips parting in surprise as he spotted Louis standing at the entrance, his hair damp.

"Oh, I didn't realise... I'll go..." Louis began, gesturing with his thumb towards the doorway.

"No," Harry reassured Niall with a brief smile, releasing his hand before rising from the chair. "I was just leaving."

Sniffling once, Harry headed toward the door, unravelling the elastic from his bun to set his curls free, running his fingers through the strands. As he approached Louis, who still stood by the door, he gave him a swift look, but it was enough for Louis to discern the redness in his eyes and the tear stains on his cheeks.

Silently, Louis watched him, concern etched on his face, and stood rooted in front of the door, his eyes following the silhouette of Harry as it gradually faded down the corridor

Over the next two weeks, the anticipation for Niall's recovery hung in the air, and all the boys rallied to support him and alleviate his pain—everyone except Luke.

During this period, a noticeable shift occurred in Louis and Harry's dynamics. Louis found himself instinctively avoiding Harry. It wasn't a deliberate choice, nor was it a conscious decision. Louis simply wasn't one to thrive on conflict. While he could stand up for himself and wouldn't shy away from speaking his mind, the idea of being the source of discord made him uneasy.

The lingering tension with Luke had dragged on for too long, causing Louis numerous sleepless nights. It wasn't just about reconnecting with old friends; these people—Liam, Zayn, Niall, and Harry—had become an integral part of Louis's life. Whether he admitted it or not, they were his friends, his present, and the pillars supporting his sanity and survival in this bleak world. Being at the centre of tension felt like too much.

First, there was the nagging sense of responsibility for Niall's injury, an irrational guilt that gnawed at him. It was as though he believed he could have somehow prevented it, even though it had been a mere accident. But more than that, Louis found himself in the unenviable position of being at the centre of the issue between Luke and Harry, an issue that had been long simmering beneath the surface.

It was an odd sensation, feeling compelled to take sides in this matter. His history with Luke was complicated, to say the least. Luke had never openly admitted to anyone what they were, never labelling their relationship as simply for fun, a pastime, or something more. But the possessiveness Luke had always exhibited, ever since their teenage years, was now coupled with overt aggression in front of everyone, and it left Louis feeling disoriented and conflicted.

Unable to navigate a resolution and uncertain about his own feelings, Louis chose the path of avoidance with Harry. It seemed easier to sidestep the person he'd known for the shortest time. It felt easier to overlook the one he'd spent months feigning disdain for. It felt more comforting to ignore the one who, with a simple glance, could momentarily erase the misery of their world.

Yet, what continued to gnaw at Louis was Luke's incessant attempts to assert some form of ownership over him. Luke's constant need to have a hand on him, an extra word, or something that conveyed to the others that Louis was undeniably his. It was compounded by Luke's hostility and unwavering self-assurance, his penchant for talking down to Niall or Harry at every opportunity.

As Niall had been complaining about boredom throughout the day, Liam and Zayn decided to organise a small dinner for everyone. The common room transformed from a dull student canteen into a more inviting space. Harry brought in a sofa from one of the rooms downstairs, carrying Niall on his back and settling him onto it with extra pillows for his injured leg. Oli and Louis gathered numerous pillows and blankets, creating a cosy spot next to Niall on the floor for them to sit.

They all congregated on the ground, armed with some alcohol they had discovered hidden in students' closets, snacks, and cans of beans and roast beef. Seated like middle school students in a circle, they faced Niall, who reclined on the sofa with the only can of Guinness they had found in the entire building. The evening progressed smoothly, with Luke being amiable toward Oli and Louis, pointedly ignoring Harry and Liam's icy gazes as they distanced themselves. Liam and Zayn exchanged subtle touches and glances, catching Louis's eye and eliciting a smile behind his glass.

After an hour and numerous emptied mini liquor bottles, they were all feeling warm and fuzzy.

"Do we have more snacks? Anything would be good," Niall requested.

"Yeah, hold on," Harry replied before anyone else, taking his glass and heading to the end of the room where the counter was laden with food.

As Harry rummaged through the cupboards to find something to satisfy Niall's hunger, he had to restrain himself from swearing when he closed the door and found Luke's face next to him. Luke leaned comfortably against the counter, looking smug and content with his glass in hand.

Ignoring him, Harry opened a bag of chips and emptied the contents into a small bowl.

"So," Luke started, "How did you and Louis meet? Because he didn't really speak about you."

Clamping down on his tongue, Harry methodically rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, irritation evident in the furrow of his brow. He shut his eyes briefly, perturbed by the tone and manner in which Luke chose his words. Deep down, Harry recognized the falsehood in Luke's statement. He understood that Luke's incessant needling from day one, waiting for a reaction, stemmed from the knowledge that Louis and Harry shared something more, something that eluded Luke.

In the face of Harry's silence, Luke continued speaking. "I met him when we were, what, ten?" He chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. "I know him better than anyone," he asserted, his voice dropping to a lower tone, a subtle warning, a reminder.

Just as Harry prepared to respond, planting his hands on the surface and leaning forward, his tongue grazing the inside of his teeth, Oli's voice intervened.

"Hey, Luke! Get your ass over here."

With a last sceptical glance, Luke sighed and retraced his steps, making his way back to the group.

Gripping the neck of a vodka bottle a bit too violently, Harry poured himself a generous glass, adding only a minuscule drop of juice, almost as an afterthought. The glass bottle landed on the counter with a resounding thud as he sighed, letting his head hang for a few seconds.

For weeks, he had tried to brush off Luke's presence, the way Luke always pulled Louis close, the shared chuckles, the covert glances, and inside jokes. Harry did his best not to react when it became apparent that Louis was purposefully ignoring him, though he had no words to express his feelings on the matter. However, Luke's persistent need to provoke, nudge, and taunt him had become increasingly difficult to ignore.

"Fucker," Harry muttered under his breath, rolling his head on his shoulder. Finally, he straightened himself, taking hold of his glass and grimacing as the potent liquor hit his throat with a burn.

"Well, I know you don't like me, but you don't need to insult me."

The voice next to him made Harry choke on his drink, liquid spurting out as he coughed and struggled to cover his mouth. Wide-eyed, he turned to see Louis casually sitting on the counter beside him, smiling.

"What?" Harry dumbly asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and setting his glass down. He blinked once, then twice.

Louis chuckled, his gaze fixed on the group still gathered near the couch and engrossed in conversation. Harry seized the opportunity to scrutinise Louis's face, surprised that he had chosen to initiate a conversation after two weeks.

"Could you two be nice?" Louis asked, his tone carrying a hint of annoyance.

"He approached me, I didn't say anything," Harry retorted.

"I see the way you look at him," Louis shot back, quick and direct.

Harry's gaze fell on Louis with annoyance. "I see the way he looks at you."

Oddly enough, this elicited a faint smile from Louis, one he tried to conceal behind his glass but failed. It marked the first time since their arrival that Louis had chosen to engage in a conversation with Harry, in front of everyone. Harry shouldn't have felt so elated about it.

"You two are ridiculous with all that testosterone. What are you trying to prove?" Louis asked, exasperated.

Harry scoffed and took a substantial gulp of his drink, leaning closer to Louis, his hand hovering close to the boy's hip. "I have nothing to prove, and you know it."

Louis attempted to play it cool, leaning against the counter, his eyes scanning the room as the other boys returned to their conversations and laughter on the floor. He pressed the glass to his lips and took a sip. Slowly, he turned his head to look at Harry, blinking languidly. He let his gaze roam up and down Harry's form before turning his gaze away, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

While Harry and Louis engaged in their customary, playful banter, the rest of the group continued to enjoy their food and drinks, gradually getting to know each other better.

Under the influence of a mix of medications and alcohol, Niall began to speak incoherently, his eyes barely open and a slight slur tainting his words. He kept his gaze fixed on Louis and Harry, who were engaged in hushed conversation at the other end of the room, tilting his head in curiosity. However, his attention quickly shifted downward when he noticed Liam playing with Zayn's finger, their arms discreetly crossed over each other's chests.

A smile played on Niall's lips as he leaned forward, placing his head right between the two of them. "Question," he announced, startling both Liam and Zayn while drawing attention from the group. "Who tops and who bottoms?"

Liam choked on his drink, coughing into his fist, and Zayn turned his head swiftly, hazel eyes widening before furrowing in mild exasperation. Niall, looking pleased and mischievous, waited patiently. When neither Zayn nor Liam offered a response, he gestured with a chin nod toward Louis and Harry, prompting Zayn to follow his gaze.

"So," Niall continued with a grin, "who tops and who bottoms?"

"What are you talking about?" Luke responded, his voice holding less amusement and veering toward menacing.

"It's obvious, isn't it? I just can't quite figure it out," Niall replied, narrowing his eyes to get a better look at Harry and Louis.

Liam, still beet-red next to Zayn, turned to him for support. He desperately wanted to laugh but realised it wasn't the best time, as another Luke-Harry showdown could erupt. Poor Niall had been oblivious to the entire fracas between Luke and Harry, as he had been too out of it to be conscious, and no one had filled him in on the matter.

"Mate, you're drunk," Luke scoffed.

"No, no, I'm telling you there's something. They've been all over each other since the beginning," Niall insisted.

Zayn observed the back-and-forth between Luke and Niall, his gaze darting as if watching a tennis match. Then, out of nowhere, Liam chimed in. "I think Harry tops," he blurted out, leaving both Zayn and Niall in shock.

"What? No way, man, it's definitely Louis," Oli added.

"I think it's Louis too," Niall slurred, nodding his head to himself.

"That's... completely insane. What the hell are we doing talking about Louis like that?" Luke interjected, his voice raised.

"Well, I don't know. You're the one who keeps trying to have all his attention. It wouldn't surprise you that we talk about him," Liam responded, his tone resolute, his gaze locked onto Luke. Zayn, standing beside Liam, couldn't help but feel a spark of satisfaction that, for once, Liam was standing up for Louis.

"Yeah, and as I was saying, they've been all around each other since..." Niall began.

"The very first day," Zayn finished the thought.

"But..." Oli hesitated for a moment. "Is Harry even... you know?"

"Gay?" Zayn clarified.

Oli simply nodded, his cheeks tinged with a blush. The group fell into a brief silence, only the faint sound of the ongoing discussion between Harry and Louis in the background. The two of them appeared blissfully unaware of the conversation happening around them, engrossed in their own world.

"I don't think it matters," Liam suddenly asserted, breaking the silence. "Sometimes things just... happen." He turned a bashful glance toward Zayn.

Oli discreetly glanced over his shoulder, observing Louis for a moment before letting out a sigh. "I don't think, lads, I don't think Louis would let anyone top him."

Zayn chuckled. "That doesn't mean anything at all."

As the conversation continued, Luke's eyes remained firmly fixed on Harry and Louis, who were now openly and unabashedly flirting. Despite the casual nature of their exchange, the way they gazed at each other left no doubt that there was something deeper beneath the surface.

Hesitating for a moment, Luke finally decided to speak up. "Hey, Curly!" he called out, drawing everyone's attention to him, interrupting both conversations. "Are you shying away from drinks?"

Next to Harry, Louis's fingers tensed around his glass, inwardly frustrated that he had been interrupted just when he had finally chosen to speak with Harry.

"Actually," Louis interjected before anyone else could respond, setting his glass on the counter beside him, "Harry and I need to talk about something."

Harry's head turned sharply to Louis, whispering, "We do?" in disbelief.

Louis wanted to shake some sense into him. He fixed Harry with a look that could only be described as a death stare.

"Oh, yeah, we do," Harry asserted, straightening up and nodding.

Zayn and Niall shared a chuckle, while Liam focused his attention on Luke, watching as the tension in his jaw increased.

As Louis calmly exited the room, followed a few seconds later by a still-astonished Harry, Luke's voice rang out again.

"Hey, Harry! Nice hoodie, by the way. Can you give it back to me once it's clean?"

Harry came to an abrupt halt, his fist clenching and his heart racing. He glanced down at his hoodie and then up at Louis, who turned to look at him, his eyes widening ever so slightly, possibly expressing shock and surprise. The exchange of looks between them was fraught with tension, and the expression in Harry's eyes held a menacing quality.

Scarcely had Louis entered the first room upon leaving the common area when Harry forcefully propelled him forward, causing him to stumble and spin with shock and surprise.

"What the fuck?!"

"Is this his!?" Harry questioned, the door slamming shut behind him as he clenched the hem of his hoodie.

Louis' mouth opened and closed silently, his eyes probing Harry's, his chest heaving. "I—It's..."

Filled with anger, Harry nearly tore the hoodie from his body, his bun falling as he pulled on it violently. Once liberated from the fabric, he hurled it at Louis' face.

"Is it his?!"

"Why does it matter?!" Louis retorted loudly, tossing the garment to the ground.

"Are you serious? You gave this to me, knowing it was his."

"It's just clothes!"

They exchanged a fierce, angry look, both chests heaving. Despite the distance between them as Harry remained by the door, tension hung thick in the air. Then, Harry took the final step to loom over Louis, who defiantly raised his chin, meeting his gaze.

"Is it his?" Harry asked again, the calm in his voice emphasising his anger.

"Yes," Louis shot back.

Harry let out a dry chuckle, his large palm grazing against his face as he shook his head in disbelief. "You—" seemingly too stunned to articulate, he rolled his eyes and took a step back, his face etched with disdain.

"It's just clothes. What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me?" He redirected his gaze to Louis. "That guy's been picking on me since day one. You ignored me for two weeks. Then you act like you want to talk, and I'm the one with the problem?"

Louis rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. "You're acting like an asshole."

Harry halted, as if contemplating, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinised Louis' features. Then, seemingly satisfied, he parted his lips. "Fuck," he said, realisation dawned on him.

"What?" Louis followed Harry's silhouette as he brought both hands to his forehead, pacing a bit before turning fully to face him.

"He fucked you."

Louis parted his lips, taking a step back and furrowing his brows. When no response came from him, Harry smiled devilishly. "Fuck, I knew it. I had my suspicions, but I—"

Louis's eyes fluttered with shame, looking down and licking his lips. When Harry took another step forward, he didn't dare meet his gaze.

‘’Did he fuck you ?’’

Louis remained silent once more. His gaze remained downward, arms tightly crossed over his chest as he swallowed hard.

"I'm asking you a fucking question!" Harry's voice raised as he pushed at Louis' shoulder. "Did he—"

"Yes! Yes, he did," Louis exclaimed, uncrossing his arms and finally meeting Harry's gaze. "Satisfied now?"

He observed a flicker of something pass through Harry's deep green eyes, waiting for a response. But as Harry licked his lips, seemingly searching for words, Louis couldn't help but glance down at his mouth. When Harry stepped forward, towering over him, Louis stood his ground this time.

"Did he fuck you in that bed?"

Once again, Louis's lips parted in surprise, his brow furrowing as he tried to comprehend the significance behind Harry's words. He didn't grasp why it mattered, especially why Harry would care so much. Yet, he couldn't ignore the surge of warmth he felt seeing Harry so agitated. He swallowed audibly, licking his lips as his eyes briefly darted to the side in hesitation.

When his response didn't come fast enough for Harry, he grabbed Louis' chin, squeezing his cheeks, bringing their faces even closer. "Did he fuck you in that fucking bed, Louis?"

Louis's heart raced with a mix of excitement and fear regarding Harry's potential reaction. He stood firm, refusing to let his guard down, clenching his fists at his sides to resist the urge to grab Harry back. Swallowing hard once more, he answered through gritted teeth, "Yes."

For a brief moment, Harry's grip on his cheeks tightened before he released him, pushing Louis away. He sighed heavily, running his hands through his hair, undoing the bun. Louis watched intently as Harry's hair fell in cascades, feeling a sudden surge of lust that tightened and burned in his stomach.

"He did it in that bed, and then I did the same to you," Louis snapped, pushing forward until they were chest to chest, revealing in Harry’s scowl.

And Harry's reaction was immediate. His head snapped towards Louis, and in one swift, perhaps too violent motion, he grabbed Louis's forearm and threw him onto the bed. Louis barely had a moment to process. The impact with the mattress left him with his wrists pinned above his head, an enraged Harry looming over him.

For a few heartbeats, they locked eyes, both aflame with fire, fury, and an undeniable yearning. Louis's gaze darted around, searching and anticipating, while Harry met his stare with an intense, penetrating gaze. Like magnets drawn together in a meticulously rehearsed dance, they released each other simultaneously, their mouths colliding in a tumultuous clash.

Their movements became urgent and intense, Louis gripping and pulling, attempting to draw Harry as close as possible. He wounded his legs around Harry, drawing him in tightly, while Harry's burning hand grasped his thigh, guiding it higher against his hip. Both quickly became breathless, Harry focusing on the sensitive skin of Louis's neck, alternating between bites and fervent licks. Louis allowed him free rein, his hands slipping under Harry's shirt, scratching at the skin of his back. Arching, he bit his lips, suppressing any sounds that threatened to escape. Only when Harry started to toy with his ear, Louis couldn’t help but let out a broken moan, the sound only making Harry want more.

As Harry began to play with his ear, Louis couldn't contain a broken moan, the sound spurring Harry on even more.

Their movements remained perfectly synchronised as Harry pushed himself up onto his knees, Louis following suit propelled by the strength of his core. They tore at each other's shirts, flinging them haphazardly behind them. With Harry's skin now exposed, Louis directed his mouth to Harry's collarbone, hands exploring his back and shoulder blades. Biting his lip, Harry tugged at Louis' hair from the back of his head, drawing their mouths together once more, tongues clashing in a battle for dominance. Lost in the passionate kiss, after a prolonged separation, Louis hands moved to Harry's trousers, fingers trembling.

Harry's abrupt push sent Louis sprawling back onto the bed, as he kept dominating the space atop his knees. His lips were swollen and crimson, his eyes a mere glint of green but ablaze with intensity, his curls in disarray. With each breath, his chiselled chest rose and fell, embodying a perfect image of desire and longing—a vision of everything Louis had yearned for.

Lost in contemplation, Louis snapped back to reality when Harry's hands landed on his knees, coercing him to part his legs to access his zipper. The sound reverberated in Louis' ears, eliciting a gasp as he held his breath in anticipation. In an instant, both his trousers and briefs were forcefully torn away, compelling him to clutch the bed tightly from the sheer force. He gazed up at him with parted lips, sensing something in Harry's eyes that suggested this night would be etched in memory forever.

With no warning, Harry's head vanished from Louis's sight as his legs were positioned atop his shoulders, right at the bend of his knees. Caught off guard, Louis attempted to prop himself up on his elbows for a glimpse, but before he could fully rise, he collapsed heavily onto the sheets, a prolonged moan escaping his throat, sending shivers through his entire being. Harry’s wet and warm tongue was relentless against his hole, causing him to try to close his legs against his head as one of his hands went straight for the long curls ticking his thighs. In the midst of squirming and convulsions, Louis struggled to stifle his moans, fully aware that others might hear him, especially with the muffled conversations audible from the adjacent room.

‘’Sensitive there, aren’t we ?’’ Came a deep and hoarse voice from between his legs, as Harry looked up wickedly at him, licking his shiny lips.

Louis nodded fervently with his other hand plastered against his mouth, his eyes barely able to stay open. He felt like his whole body was on fire, whole body shaking and mouth already dry.

Without ever breaking their eye contact, Harry brought two of his own fingers into his mouth and made a show of sucking and licking them, as his other hand was gripping at Louis' hip to maintain him exactly where he wanted him. A burst of laughter came from the other room, both of them able to recognise Niall’s voice and at the same time, Harry’s long finger slipped right inside of him, pulling a loud moan out of Louis, muffled by his own hand, while his other hand pulled harshly on Harry’s hair, his whole body tensing.

“Hmhm,’’ Harry whispered, shaking his head in negation while his fingers started moving slowly in him, turning and curling upward to press right against his prostate, coaxing one more spasm and a groan from Louis. ‘’Let it out.’’

Letting go of his hip to straighten, Harry didn't cease the movements of his fingers, intensifying the sensations. With his free hand, he seized Louis' wrist, pinning it to the sheets, linking their fingers and bringing his face close. His mouth hovered near Louis', tantalising and coaxing but never making contact, instead landing on his chest to initiate a trail of wet kisses on his heated skin.

"I can't believe you did that," Harry began, his lower lip caressing Louis' skin as he descended, hovering above his nipples. "And you thought I wouldn't notice."

Gulping, Louis struggled to catch his breath, licking his lips in an attempt to alleviate his dry mouth. His feet rested flat on the bed, thighs quivering, and stomach contracting with every touch to his prostate.

“But no one can fuck you as good as I do.’’ He uttered with confidence, sending millions of shivers down Louis' skin as he closed his eyes and let his head tilt back when finally, Harry's tongue came to play with his nipple. ‘’Isn’t it ?’’

Stubborn, Louis still found a way to shake his head with a frown, his fingers tightening around Harry's when the latter accentuated the movements of his fingers for harsh and deep thrusts. “Are you sure?” He asked with a sly smile before biting on his nipple and tugging on it.

“Ha-’’ Louis tried to say, only to be cut out by Harry’s mouth on his.

The kiss was intense, almost bruising in its fervour—fierce, possessive, and consuming. Harry's fingers moved relentlessly and swiftly inside him, prompting Louis to release his hand and clutch at his shoulders for stability. Overwhelmed, he had to break the kiss, burying his face in Harry's neck. His body quivered and trembled uncontrollably as he gasped and let out raspy, high-pitched moans into his ear, causing Harry to close his eyes and goran in response.

As Harry withdrew his fingers, Louis's body went slack, collapsing onto the bed. He struggled to swallow and breathe simultaneously, shutting his eyes tightly in an attempt to control the overwhelming sensations threatening to consume him instantly. Lost in a haze of desire, his thoughts felt fuzzy and muddled. Then, abruptly brought back to reality, Harry's touch reconnected with his skin, a hand grasping his throat, exerting pressure that elicited a fractured moan from Louis's lips. He could now feel his lube slicked cock in between his legs, taunting his hole and claiming access.

“Does he fuck you better than I do ?’’ Harry asked in his ear, hand still encircling his throat.

Louis's eyes involuntarily rolled in his head at the mere sound of Harry's voice and the scorching sensation of their damp skin pressed together. Reflexively, he parted his legs, his arms and fingers feeling numb at his sides. A firm squeeze on his throat jolted Louis to open his eyes, met with Harry's piercing gaze and plush lips inches away. Desiring a kiss, he attempted to lift his head, but with a gentle push against his throat, Harry compelled him to recline back.

“Answer.”

Their gazes locked, Louis's shimmering eyes pleading and beseeching without the need for words, while Harry's remained ablaze with desire and hunger. Another, slightly painful squeeze prompted a grimace from Louis, who shook his head faintly, managing only a whispered "no."

A small smile graced Harry's lips, but it was far from sweet or tender. Instead, it was mischievous and wicked. He loosened his grip on Louis's throat only slightly, his free hand exploring between their bodies, causing Louis's breath to quicken once more.

"Tell me what's going to happen now," Harry ordered, his own voice sounding strained.

Unable to move his head to glance down, Louis could only shift his eyes downward briefly before meeting Harry's gaze again. Licking his dry lips, he struggled to find the words. "You—" He moaned when he felt Harry’s cock pushing at his hole, clenching his eyes and blurting out, ‘’You’re going to fuck me.’’

Louis sensed Harry shaking his head above him, his hair brushing against his face, tickling his nose. "No," Harry replied curtly. “I’m going to fucking ruin you.” He then shifted Louis' head to the side with the hand still on his throat, using his thumb to press against Louis' cheek, directing his face towards the door. "And you're going to let them all know how good it feels."

He chose that moment to push into him, Louis’ hands flying to grab his shoulders blades, legs parting and straightening on the sheets while they both moaned deep and low, Harry’s forehead coming to rest on his cheekbone. ‘’Let them all know how good I feel.’’

Harry began by slowly undulating his hips and pressing his cock up against Louis's prostate, causing him to immediately arch and moan. He savoured and absorbed Louis's skin and curves, letting the hand that wasn't busy with holding his throat slide down his body. His hand went from his waist to his lower back, where it seized his ass and scraped the flesh. Afterward, it slid down the back of his thigh and raised his leg all the way up to his shoulder.

When Louis made a pained sound, Harry shushed him with a soft, breathy sound, “It needs to hurt or how else are you gonna learn your lesson?"

He waited for Louis to open his mouth in order to begin his thrusts, grinning devilishly as he observed him stumbling while attempting to clutch the sheets, the veins of his neck straining from how severely his voice was muffled. The pace was brutal and fast, the sound of their skin resonating in the room as their damp skin slid against each other.

Needing him to let go, needing to hear him and mostly, needing them to hear him, Harry leaned forward until he could rest his hand on the wall right above Louis' head. With his other hand, he started to squeeze Louis’ throat, using both his thumb and forefinger to grip at his chin.

“Open your mouth for me, baby.”

When he saw Louis's eyes roll and his thin, pink lips part when he gave the command, a wave of pride swept over him. He leaned forward, spitting straight into Louis' mouth, using his thumb to force him to shut his mouth, all the while clutching his throat more tightly just because he could.

Keep your eyes open, look at me.”

That pulled a low moan out of Louis, causing Harry to shiver from head to toe, and to want to pull more of them out of him. Starting to pace his thrusts and adding a little roll of his hips everytime he would graze his prostate, groaning when each time, Louis would clench down on him, Harry knew he had one more thing to do to provoke the fire out of him.

“You look so good with my hands around your neck.”

Louis was already so close. Everything was too much. The way he would look down on him, his hand on his neck, his warm skin between his legs and his delicious cock against his prostate. Eventually, he gave up, letting his head fall down on the pillow as a loud moan ripped through his chest as he spoke.

“I-I’ve had better.’’

That made Harry stop for a second only, his heavy breath filling the room. He licked his lips, his eyes never leaving Louis’ body as looked like a wolf in front of his prey. ‘’Better ?’’ Harry smirked as his hand finally left Louis’ throat to join the other one against the wall. He gave one thrust, hard and deep, knocking the wind out of Louis’ lungs. Smiling, he did it again, and again, until the pace was brutal.

Louis dug his nails deep into Harry's skin, clutching his back, thighs, and gripping his ass. Despite fighting to stifle his response, he couldn't help but release a cry, tears of pleasure streaming down his face as his toes curled and his stomach tightened.

“That’s it.’’ Harry moaned again, admiring how Louis’ body was moving beneath him from the violence of his thrusts.

Then, Louis lost it. “I can’t- please- I can’t-” He tried to suppress his moans by biting his lips until they started to bleed, “Ha-Harry..’’

“Yes.’’ He got in answer, Harry's hands leaving the wall, to lay on him, wrapping a hand around his neck and his thigh, as they intertwined their legs. Their bodies moved together, rolling and sliding as they tangled closer. Louis clutched at the back of Harry's head, fingers lost into a sea of damp curls, shutting his eyes tightly. "Louder, baby. I want to hear you." Harry moaned against the skin of his cheek.

‘’Harry-’’ Louis' back arched as he finally began to let everything out, and let Harry in. ‘’Fuck, H-Harry!”

The boys were still gathered around the sofa where Niall remained sprawled. Clearly inebriated and likely on too many painkillers for a regular person, he grinned at the ceiling, vaguely tuning in to Liam's words from an hour ago while half-listening to Oli chatting with Zayn, and Luke assisting with refills.

"I'm just saying, it’s not a fair fight." Zayn remarked, gesturing towards Oli with a flick of his wrist. “The spider has eight legs, and we only have two ! How is that fair?’’

"But it’s just a small and innocent creature!” Oli argued.

"It's like..."

"Wait!" Niall suddenly interjected, startling everyone and causing them to twitch in surprise.

All heads turned toward him as he struggled to sit upright, furrowing his brow and tilting his head as if expecting something.

"What's he up to—" Luke began, only to be cut off by Niall raising a finger to silence him.

Niall then shifted his gaze toward the far end of the room, his lips parting slowly. "Do you guys hear that?"

A heavy, prolonged silence.

"No," Zayn replied. "Niall, I think you need to go to bed."

"Yeah, mate, you're really out of it right now."

"No, no, wait," Niall urged.

They all sighed but complied, pausing and straining their ears to catch whatever Niall was on about. While Luke nibbled on some crackers, Oli fiddled with the drawstrings of his joggers, and Liam took a sip of his beer, they finally heard it.

‘’Harry! Yes, yes!’’ The sound of a bed creaking on the floor and the banging against the wall started to echo in the room, making Niall smile proudly to Luke, like he was proving his point.

Liam immediately choked on his drink for the second time this evening, while Zayn bit down his lips to muffle his giggles. Oli’s cheeks probably never had been redder as his eyes opened comically but still remained fixed on the floor, while Luke's face took on a pale, greyish tone, eyes lost in the void.

‘’Yes! Harry– Ha- Uh!’’

The distant sound of skin meeting skin and whispered exhales became audible, some softer than others. Among them, Harry's and Louis' voices were distinguishable. Niall expressed silent approval, shaking his head with a proud smirk, playfully nudging Liam with an elbow.

‘’See, Harry tops.’’

As Louis gradually regained awareness, he sensed something cool and damp against his forehead. His mouth parched, body tingling with a pins-and-needles sensation, and his thoughts clouded. Groaning, he attempted to turn away from the intrusive light, fumbling for the blanket nearby.

"Here you go," a deep voice greeted him, coaxing a desire to lean into its comforting familiarity.

Fingers gently brushed through his hair, easing it off his forehead and providing an unexpected sensation of solace that prompted a contented sigh. He flexed his fingers and toes, swallowing hard, and smacked his lips together.

"Thirsty?" the voice inquired, prompting a nod from Louis, who, squinting, reached to wipe his eyes and face.

A warm hand slid behind his neck, guiding him to sit up, causing discomfort. Yet, the anticipated cool water soon flowed into his mouth, quenching his thirst until he couldn't take more. With support, he sat upright, finally opening his eyes.

Beside him on the cramped student bed, Harry sat, his hair a dishevelled sweaty bun, clad in a ridiculously small black brief. Louis, meanwhile, was bare, a white sheet modestly draped over his lower body. Blinking slowly and hazily, he struggled to focus.

"Are you feeling better?" Harry's unexpectedly caring tone accompanied his hand returning to adjust Louis' hair, gently sweeping strands from his eyes.

"I think so," Louis replied, his voice strained and hoarse, eyes widening as he cleared his throat and coughed. "Did I... Did I just faint?"

Harry nodded, a small smile gracing his lips—a departure from Louis' expectations of smugness or pride. Something in Harry's gaze had changed, the earlier anger and desire replaced by a strangely tender and affectionate expression, causing a discomforting stir within Louis.

Uncertain, Louis glanced at Harry's scratched shoulders, nervously playing with his fingers. "I'm feeling hungry now."

Without a word, Harry rose, retrieving their scattered clothes from the floor. Sorting through them, he handed Louis their respective black shirts, sizing them correctly before dressing himself.

As they readied themselves to rejoin the others, Louis gingerly got out of bed, wincing. Harry immediately turned, concern etched on his features. Placing a hand over his chest, Louis closed his eyes briefly, clearing his throat again. When he met Harry's gaze, he hoped his eyes conveyed the seriousness of his plea.

"Not a word about this."

Zayn wrestled playfully with Niall for a drink while the common room door creaked open once more. All the boys, sprawled on the floor, swivelled their heads toward the noise, jaws dropping as Harry stepped in. His dishevelled bun and inside-out shirt accompanied a dazed and limping Louis trailing behind him. Oli flushed crimson, while Liam busied himself pouring more drinks into fresh glasses. Niall erupted in laughter, and Zayn winked at Louis, who responded with a playful middle finger.

"So," Louis began, attempting to sound nonchalant, "any food left?" He struggled to settle himself without grimacing.

Harry took his time approaching the group, sharing smirks with Zayn and Niall. Instead of claiming his usual spot, he headed straight for Luke. Sneaking up from behind, he deposited a hoodie on Luke's lap before finding his own seat on the floor. As he took a sip from his glass, his gaze lingered on Luke.

As the others delved into a conversation about their plans after leaving the building, Harry's attention remained fixed on Luke. He observed as the brunette shot him a menacing glare, then reluctantly glanced down at the hoodie. Luke's expression twisted into one of disgust upon noticing whitish spots on the black fabric, his mouth falling open in revulsion.

Harry concealed his smile behind his glass, raising it in a mock toast, catching Luke's gaze once more.

With the weight of exhaustion and alcohol hanging heavy, they collectively decided to call it a night.

Louis felt an unusual, almost unfamiliar sense of tranquillity. Normally plagued by an incessant restlessness, tonight he felt light, serene, content. His best friend nestled nearby, new friends safe and settled, Niall's knee on the mend—everything seemed to be falling into place.

As Oli and Zayn tidied the common room, Zayn embraced him before ushering Niall off to his room with Liam. Humming his favourite tune softly, Louis cleared away the debris, wiping down counters and stashing clean glasses in the cupboards.

"If I lay here," he sang softly, the cloth gliding over the counter, "If I just lay here," organising the last of the glasses. ‘’Hmhm,’’

"Off to bed, mate," Oli's yawning voice interrupted, a pat on Louis' back preceding a playful ruffle of his hair.

Louis retaliated with the damp cloth, but Oli darted away with a laugh, flipping a cheeky gesture as he vanished through the door. "Cheeky git," Louis teased after him.

Setting the cloth aside, Louis straightened the sofa, returning pillows and clearing crumbs and debris from the floor. Satisfied with his cleaning spree, he rubbed his hands together and headed to the window for a smoke.

Perched on the sill, he watched wisps of smoke dissipate in the cold breeze, gazing up at the stars. He wondered if his mom and sisters were gazing at the same sky. Gratitude swelled within him for the return of his friends—Niall, Zayn, even Liam. And regarding Harry, he couldn't deny a sense of contentment. He hadn't felt this unburdened in a long time. The weight of the past two weeks without Harry became evident only now.

Exhaling the last drag of his cigarette, he extinguished it and dimmed the lights, ready to ascend the stairs. But just as he moved, a muffled sound caught his attention.

Padding slowly toward the room with a half closed door. Louis stood frozen just outside the cracked door, his heart pounding in his chest as he strained to make out the hushed voices within. It was Luke's voice, laced with an undertone of something Louis couldn't place—was it bitterness? Envy? His childhood best friend's words sliced through the air, each one a blade carving deeper into Louis' chest.

"We all know that if we were not in that situation, Louis wouldn't even have cared about you.'' Luke spat, making Louis' part his lips in shock. He tried to peek more inside the room, only for his eyes to go wider when he saw Luke facing Harry, who was clutching on a chair next to him, visibly trying not to answer. "He's using you to fill is lack of me.'' Luke added.

Louis saw that even in the gloomy room, Harry's eyes twitched. Rather than responding, Harry only tried to get near the door, only to have Luke's body obstruct him. He watched as Luke threw the black hoodie at Harry's feet.

"And you're not better.'' Luke chuckled coldly, ''You think fucking him would change anything ? I'm telling you're not the first one he opened his legs f-''

Louis startled and gasped when Harry unexpectedly grabbed Luke's collar and shoved him against the wall, sending the chair flying across the room and leaving Luke's feet barely touching the floor.

"Don't talk about him like that!''

Louis knew he had to step in when Harry raised his fist, ready to strike Luke's face in a fit of wrath. Without thinking, he pushed the door and charged into the room.

"Harry!''

When he didn't respond, Louis rushed at him, grabbing Harry by his strong arms to yank him away.

“Harry, let go!’’

He finally succeeded and hurled him behind. He placed himself squarely between Luke and Harry, facing his once-trusted friend with a gaze that betrayed the turmoil within.

Luke immediately took two steps forward, trying to reach for him, "He tried to-''

"Don't.'' Louis interrupted, taking a step back. ''I'm going to be very clear with you.'' He stood proud and tall, legs spread and eyes fiery, '' What happened between you and I was a mistake. And it was long ago."

Behind him, Harry's eyes, which were cast downard, slowly raised to stare at the back of Louis' neck.

"You’ve always done this.'' He chuckled wetly, his blue eyes now clouded with sorrow. ‘’You always took me for granted. Used me when it was fitting you, threw me when it was not.’’ He shook his head as his eyes dropped to the ground. He licked at his lips, tilting his head in thought. When he raised his head, his face was now stone cold, high chin and spread legs. He stood very close to his friend, affronting, daring him. “I’d choose Harry over anyone, in front of anyone. You’re the one who doesn’t understand a damn thing.” He spat, blue eyes flashing with hurt.

Behind him, Harry’s lips parted in surprise and his eyes stayed fixated on Louis’ departing figure as he left the room without a single glance for both of them.

Chapter 17: King's Cross II

Chapter Text

The chill of London wrapped the city in a desaturated embrace, a monotone symphony broken only by the whoosh of wind slipping beneath windows and doors. Distant echoes of gunfire occasionally punctuated the eerie silence.

They had become accustomed to this routine—nights blending into days, consumed by meticulous planning and preparations. The world outside this refuge had turned perilous long before they arrived here. Yet, with each passing moment, the looming danger felt more palpable, the need to keep moving growing stronger.

Leaving the comfort of their sanctuary meant bidding adieu to electricity, warmth, and security. However, the drive to seek a permanent safe haven, one where they wouldn’t be in perpetual flight, matched the fervour of reuniting with their families. Under the weight of impending departure, a heavy silence blanketed them as they awoke that morning. Packing their bags with essentials, weapons, and survival gear, they knew the next refuge was uncertain. Despite Niall's injury healing, the constant fear lingered that any one of them might not make it to the next stop unscathed.

As Louis rose to the cold, solitary morning, he lingered on the bed, reflecting on the tumult they'd weathered since the chaos began. It struck him how this fear, these nightmares, had seamlessly woven themselves into their daily existence. Wallets and iPhones had been replaced by firearms and knives; pristine sneakers traded for sturdy boots and cargo pants. With a sigh, he indulged in a leisurely hot shower, the rusty razor left by prior inhabitants scraping against his skin. Dressed and packed, he made the tough decisions about which clothes to bring, acknowledging the impossibility of taking everything.

Delving into his bag, he retrieved a cherished photograph—himself alongside Oli, Luke, and Stan. Tracing his finger over Stan's face, a pang of longing surged through him before he carefully stowed the photo away. Clutching a scrap of black fabric, he left his room, shuffling down the hallway to his destination. Without hesitation and without the formality of knocking, he entered the room.

Harry stood facing his bed, his back to the door, the faint traces of moisture lingering on his skin from the recent shower, droplets trailing down his spine. Louis paused in the doorway, a determined aura about him, taking a moment to appreciate the sight. His gaze travelled from the waistband where white briefs peeked out from tight jeans, to the sinewy muscles as Harry shook his damp hair. It settled on the faint scratch marks adorning his shoulder blades—a reminder of his own touch on Harry's skin.

Clearing his throat to announce his presence, Louis closed the door softly behind him, then took a few steps forward, fingers toying with the fabric in his grasp. As Harry turned, preparing to don his shirt, a small smile graced his lips upon seeing Louis, dimples making a brief appearance, coaxing a matching smile from Louis.

"It's yours," Louis said, the sound of his own voice seeming foreign as he extended his hand, offering Harry's black and white bandana.

Observing Harry's eyes lingering on his face, analysing and searching as he always did, Louis waited, his stomach tightening as Harry dropped his shirt onto the bed and turned fully towards him.

"I didn't know you still had it," Harry remarked, accepting the balaclava from Louis but promptly discarding it onto the bed.

"Well, I just forg—" Louis's words were cut off as Harry's hands found their place on his waist and neck, pulling him in for a soft, tender kiss. His eyes widened in surprise before his own hands found purchase on Harry's bare chest.

As they parted after a fleeting moment, their gazes locked. Louis appeared searching and surprised, while Harry exuded certainty and ease.

Louis licked his lips, tentatively patting Harry's shoulder, a newfound timidity creeping in, his effort to suppress a smile or melt away evident. "You should get ready," he managed to say, trying to maintain composure.

But Harry refused to release him, his hand trailing down Louis's neck to link at the small of his back, drawing their bodies even closer. Louis found this new sensation unfamiliar, conflicting with his instincts, yet every fibre of his being urged him to surrender and relish the moment. When he sensed Harry loosening his hold, Louis rose on his tiptoes, entwining his arms behind Harry's neck, disregarding the dampness of his hair. He pressed his body against Harry's, shutting his eyes tightly and clinging to him.

"Hey..." Harry whispered, embracing him once more and resting his chin on Louis's shoulder. "It'll be okay."

Unable to comprehend this shift in their dynamic, unaccustomed to witnessing this tender, serene side of Harry, Louis opted not to dwell on deciphering it. Instead, he allowed himself to bask in Harry's scent and embrace, finding solace in the overwhelming sense of safety. But in the fragile sanctuary of a moment's peace, the door swung open behind them, yanking Louis back to reality as he pried his eyes open. Unlike Harry, who leisurely extricated himself from their embrace, leaving a hand behind his back, Louis jolted and staggered several steps backward, nearly stumbling over his own feet.

"Oh, sorry," Liam mumbled, his face still bearing the creases of sleep, a loosely zipped sweater covering his half-bared chest. "I wanted to talk to you."

"I was leaving," Louis hurriedly interjected, clapping his hands together, already moving towards the door.

"Actually," Liam's voice interrupted, "I wanted to talk to you, Louis."

Louis turned his head toward Liam, surprise mingled with nerves. Usually, when Liam sought a conversation, it seldom heralded positive news.

He heard the shuffle of movement from Harry behind him, and within moments, Harry passed by them, clad in only a thin white shirt, a bulky, grimy backpack slung over his shoulder, the balaclava fastened around his wrist. Harry gave Liam a curt nod, then paused by the door, lingering for a fleeting moment, hand resting on the wood, offering Louis a tentative smile before departing and closing the door behind him.

Unsettled by Liam witnessing their intimate moment yet uncertain of how to act in his presence, Louis pressed his lips together awkwardly, gazing at the ceiling while swaying back and forth. Liam, however, appeared composed as he headed for the bed, perching on its edge.

"Can you—Would you sit, please?" Liam's unexpected courtesy made Louis narrow his eyes suspiciously, cautious of any potential trap. Slowly, he made his way to the ridiculously small desk, pulling out the plastic chair and slouching onto it, legs spread, chin held high in defiance.

In the weighted silence, Liam didn't speak, his elbows resting on his knees, thumbs under his chin, rubbing his palms together. Louis clicked his tongue against his teeth. "Listen, I know you don't like me, and th—"

"I'm in love with Zayn," Liam blurted out.

The confession left Louis speechless, mouth agape, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. He stopped breathing for a second, observing Liam's guilty, pained gaze now fixed on the ground. Louis straightened on his chair, mirroring Liam's posture, locking his blue eyes onto Liam's brown ones.

"I—" Liam sighed. "I've known Harry since he was six. I taught him to ride a bike. I was there for his first hangover, his first cigarette. I was there when he failed his exams, when he lost his father." His words trailed off, guilt evident in his expression. Liam glanced around, seemingly regretting his disclosure, before sighing again. "What I mean is... I thought avoiding attachment would be safer. If he and I stayed focused and together, it might have been easier. By trying to shield him from getting close to you, I believed I was shielding him from the fear outside, from risking his life for someone else. But... I didn't realise I was doing the same thing with Zayn."

Louis nodded with understanding, his attention entirely focused on Liam's every word, his heart thudding in his chest.

"I can't lose Harry," Liam declared, firm and resolute, his eyes intense and almost threatening on Louis before a subtle shift occurred, a glimmer shimmering in his gaze. "But I can't lose Zayn."

The palpable weight of Liam's words lingered in the room, casting a solemn atmosphere that both of them silently acknowledged. Unbeknownst to them, a shared heaviness settled in their hearts and chests, their breaths trembling as they exhaled.

Without explicit words, Louis comprehended the gravity of Liam's implication.

"I need you to watch over him. I need you to be there, to..."

"I will," Louis interjected swiftly, nodding resolutely, deliberately maintaining eye contact to ensure Liam could perceive his unwavering sincerity and determination. ‘’I will.’’

The moment seemed to carry an unexpected weight of reconciliation. Liam smiled softly, a chuckle escaping him as he lowered his head, shaking it while exhaling shakily. He ran a hand across his face, straightened up, and then confessed, "I am sorry, for everything I've done and said. And... I don't hate you."

Louis swallowed audibly, nodding once more, feeling a tad uneasy about this abrupt shift in their dynamic. It was another stark reminder that the peril awaiting them beyond these walls was more threatening than ever.

They rose simultaneously from their seats, exchanging slightly awkward glances before Liam did something surprising. He opened his arms, drawing Louis into a friendly hug, patting his back with closed eyes for a fleeting moment. Hands suspended in the air in disbelief, Louis blinked twice before tentatively reciprocating, patting Liam's back in return.

As they disengaged from the embrace, both chuckled awkwardly, averting their gazes. When Niall's distant voice echoed through the building, signalling it was time for a final meal together, they exchanged another glance.

"We stick together." Louis added with a smile.

The morning unfolded with a meal of gathered leftovers, each eating more than they could manage, mindful of the potential scarcity ahead. It was time to confront the world beyond the shelter they'd grown accustomed to. Gathered at the entrance with their backpacks, they moved quietly, double-checking to ensure nothing was forgotten. Niall arrived, still nursing a limp but no longer reliant on assistance to walk. With winter steadily encroaching, they were all suitably bundled up, bracing themselves for the biting cold.

Tension crackled between Luke and Louis, the aftermath of their clash lingering. Louis had yet to come to terms with their altercation, especially Louis' choice to prioritise Harry above all. Even though Luke attempted to present his best self, a residual negativity trailed him wherever he went. Having meticulously planned for this day a week in advance, everyone was assigned a role. They unanimously decided against using a car, avoiding unnecessary noise that could attract attention. Their route necessitated passing through King's Cross and its vicinity to reach the next town—a route they'd taken once before.

Quietly, they all agreed, including Luke, to keep a watchful eye on Niall. They were prepared to assist him if his limp worsened, ready to carry him if needed, should they have to sprint for safety.

As Liam swung open the front door, the gravity of the moment settled heavily upon them. One by one, they shouldered their backpacks, readying themselves for what lay ahead.

Harry, bending down to grab his bag after layering up in a sweatshirt and bomber jacket, felt a hand grip his elbow, halting his movement. Surprised, he turned to find Louis behind him, a worried expression etched on his face.

Shifting the bag onto one shoulder, Harry offered a smile he hoped conveyed reassurance. "Ready?" he asked, gesturing toward the door, the biting cold already nipping at their skin.

Furrowing his brow, Louis attempted to take a deep breath, a hand instinctively reaching for his stomach. A sense of foreboding lingered in his gut, unshakable and unsettling. But true to his nature, Louis shrugged and let his hand slip away from Harry's body.

"Ready.”

As they stepped out into the grim expanse of London, the frigid air of winter bit at their skin, carrying with it the weight of a city engulfed in a year-long apocalypse.

King's Cross stood as a shadow of its former self, buildings scarred by time and neglect. Graffiti sprawled across walls like silent screams, a cacophony of colours amidst the desolation. Each stroke of paint told a story of despair, defiance, and survival etched onto the city's crumbling facade.

The boys each had their roles in this silent march through the desolate streets. Harry and Liam Liam in the lead, carrying weathered shotguns, walked with a sense of purpose, scanned the surroundings with watchful eyes. Niall, walking right behind them with a bag full of molotovs ready to be used, still limping, kept a steady pace, alert for any sign of danger. Louis, had a determined glint in his eyes, wielded a metal bar fashioned from scrap by Niall, with blades tied at the end, ready to defend at a moment's notice. Zayn, with a pair of daggers strapped to his belt, moved with a silent grace, scanning for any hidden threats.

Luke and Oli walked at the end, armed with guns, both maintaining a vigilant lookout, gaze flickering from alleyways to rooftops, ensuring no threat lurked unseen.

Their footsteps echoed through the desolate streets, the only sound amidst the eerie silence of the city. They moved in unison, a well-practised dance of survival, navigating the abandoned roads and broken buildings without encountering any immediate threats. As they pressed forward, their breaths formed frosty clouds in the wintry air, a stark reminder of the harshness of their reality. With each step, they pushed deeper into the heart of the unknown, a band of brothers forging ahead, determined to navigate the desolation of London's new landscape and find whatever semblance of hope remained in the ravaged city.

The decision to traverse the desolate city via the train tracks proved a calculated move, sparing them the constant vigilance required in the labyrinthine alleys. Silence enveloped their journey, broken only by sporadic conversations, the clinking of gravel beneath their boots the sole soundtrack to their passage. Their unspoken bond tethered them together, each casting surreptitious glances at Niall. Louis and Liam, in particular, remained attuned to the slightest shift in his demeanour, watchful guardians amid the eerie quiet.

Half an hour passed before Liam signalled their departure from the rails, guiding them to reemerge onto the streets. One by one, they aided each other in scaling the walls, finally setting foot on the cold, unforgiving asphalt. Their collective exhalation, a symphony of relief, echoed the unspoken tension that had burdened their journey, each step on solid ground a welcomed respite from the desolate railway.

The tense situation amplified as they gathered under the dilapidated shelter of an abandoned store, Zayn poring over a weathered city map while Harry scoured the sidewalks for any markers denoting their location.

Louis hovered anxiously behind Zayn, his gaze flickering between the map and the surrounding rooftops and windows, an air of nervous anticipation clouding his features.

"Camden Square is right there," Harry announced upon rejoining them, gesturing down the street.

This part of the city posed a challenge—rows of compact London houses, still standing and mostly intact, offered ideal cover for Raiders and a potential refuge for survivors.

Opting for the park, hopeful that the trees and bushes would conceal their passage, their plans halted abruptly. A branch snapping behind them sent shivers down their spines. Luke, positioned at the rear, swallowed hard and pivoted first. At the park entrance stood an infected individual, tattered clothing hanging off their greyish, decaying skin, eyes clouded white and mouth agape.

The boys instinctively reached for their weapons, suppressing gasps and maintaining composure as they confronted the looming threat. Liam signalled retreat, urging Harry to step back. With deliberate steps backward, they halted abruptly when the creature's head jerked toward them, fixating on Oli's presence, as if scenting the air.

A collective freeze seized them, the group refusing to move or even draw breath, a tense standoff unfolding. The infected let out an ear-piercing scream, sending a jolt of terror through the group.

The frantic sprint became a symphony of pounding footsteps and strained breaths, Liam and Harry leading the charge as they navigated the chaotic pursuit. Louis, fleet-footed but resolutely sticking close to Niall, propelled himself forward with every ounce of energy.

As they raced through the labyrinthine streets, Zayn continually cast backward glances, witnessing a growing horde of infected pouring out from the alleys, their haunting screams reverberating through the desolate cityscape.

The group's relentless dash aimed to evade confrontation, their collective determination driving them onward without pause.

Driven to a dead-end alley, their options dwindled. Their only hope lay in the aged structure of an old hotel, an uncertain refuge amidst the perilous pursuit. Desperation fueled their sprint toward the looming building, the hope of finding sanctuary urging them forward.

Their breaths laboured, they scrambled to enter the hotel's courtyard, vaulting over the gate with urgency.

Yet, as Louis glanced back, a gut-wrenching realisation struck—he saw Niall, hindered by his injured leg, unable to clear the gates. In a heartbeat, Louis made his choice.

Discarding his weapon, concealing it behind his bag, Louis pivoted, charging back toward his struggling friend.

"Louis!" Harry's urgent call echoed as he was ushered inside by Luke, their priority to seek refuge.

"Come on lad," Louis urged, seizing Niall's chest and pulling him desperately as the infected drew dangerously near, clawing at Louis' bag in a frenzied attempt to seize him.

The main door of the hotel slammed shut, barricading the group from safety as infected beings charged toward them. With no alternative, Louis dashed forward, supporting Niall's injured form under his arm, racing toward the end of the road, desperately seeking an alternative escape route.

The scene unfolded in a chaotic whirlwind, anxiety and urgency thick in the air as Harry's panic surged upon realising Louis was missing. His eyes, wide and fraught with worry, darted from one face to another, the exhaustion evident on each of the boys' faces. Without hesitation, Harry made a desperate dash for the door, his gun forgotten on the ground. But Zayn, still recovering from the chase, propelled himself forward, intercepting Harry and blocking his path, his hands clutching the doorknob, his chest puffed out in defiance as he thwarted Harry's attempts to pass.

"Let me go! Get out of the way!" Harry screamed, his frantic desperation overshadowing the danger lurking just beyond the door as infected beings prowled nearby. "MOVE!"

Liam and Oli hurried to restrain him, grasping at his arms and guiding him backward, attempting to defuse the escalating situation. Eventually, they reached another room, securing it with a hastily barricaded entrance while Liam struggled to hold Harry against the wall.

"Harry, come on. Stop!" Liam urged, his voice strained with effort as he grappled with Harry's resistance.

Suddenly, Zayn took charge, pushing himself between Harry and Liam, using his hands to press Harry's shoulders firmly against the surface. Harry, taken aback by Zayn's unexpected strength, paused for a moment, locking eyes with him. In that instant, Zayn gently cupped Harry's face, their foreheads meeting in a tender gesture.

"Look at me," Zayn whispered, his voice a calming presence amidst the chaos. "Louis needs you. They all need us. You have to stay focused. You can't lose control now."

Gradually, Harry's struggles subsided, his breaths rugged and uneven as he fought to steady himself. He glanced at Oli, who paced nervously, and Liam, who mirrored Harry's fear and concern. Returning his gaze to Zayn, Harry nodded slowly, swallowing hard to quell the surge of emotions rising within him.

Tension coiled in the air as the hours passed, the encroaching nightfall casting a shadow of urgency over the boys. Huddled in the cramped space of the abandoned house, they fervently brainstormed, searching the map for any clue to Louis and Niall's whereabouts.

Zayn, Liam, and Oli congregated on the floor of the master bedroom, their eyes fixed on the map, fingers tracing possible routes Louis might have taken while carrying the injured Niall.

Harry, perched on an armchair in the corner, betrayed by his restless gestures, chewed on his thumb and fidgeted anxiously, his nerves rendering him incapable of contributing to the discussion, consumed by worry and frustration.

"Do you think they could have sought shelter in that nightclub?" Oli ventured, his finger indicating a spot on the map, concern etched on his face.

Liam, already showing signs of wear on his chapped lips from nervous biting, furrowed his brow. "No, I don't think they'd have crossed the main road. They should still be nearby."

Zayn, his chin resting on Liam's shoulder, maintained the map's position, one hand tucked under his clothes, gently rubbing his thumb against his own back, seeking solace in the warmth against his skin.

"What if they're there?" Zayn pointed to a church, a short distance from their refuge.

"I told you," Luke interjected from where he leaned against the closed bedroom door, letting his hand drop from his mouth, directing his words to Harry. "We should've ditched Niall."

Zayn straightened, Liam's hand moving to his thigh in a silent gesture of caution.

"It's his fault!" Luke's accusation cut through the room, his finger pointing at Harry, pleading for validation, especially from Oli. "Louis could be—"

"Shut up." Zayn's voice, gravelly and weighted with emotion, silenced the room, Harry and Luke both snapping their attention to him. "Don't even say that word."

Zayn's demeanour shifted as he rose from the floor, a picture of poise and collectedness. His calm exterior belied the undercurrent of worry and determination brewing within him. Liam, familiar with the depths of Zayn's capabilities, recognized the intensity simmering beneath his composed surface, especially when one of their own was at risk.

"Everyone needs to quiet down," Zayn asserted, his tone carrying an air of authority that commanded attention. "Niall and Louis can manage without us. We need clear heads and unity to devise a plan. We won't find them by bickering among ourselves." Luke blinked, seeking support from Oli, who instead nodded in agreement. "Now you," Zayn directed his gaze at Harry, "Get some rest and try to sleep. And you," he pointed at Luke, "Go downstairs and search for water."

The weight of Zayn's directives settled upon the room, his directives a call for solidarity and a reminder of their immediate priorities in the face of adversity.

The moment weighed heavily as they shared one bottle of water among them, conserving their supplies and wiping the sweat from their exhausted bodies. They took turns resting, allowing their aching limbs a moment of respite, all while they waited for the sun's descent, counting on the veil of darkness to shield their movements.

Yet, in the midst of their tense vigil, a sound tore through the eerie silence, sending a shiver down their spines—two distinct gunshots.

The abrupt crack of gunfire shattered the uneasy calm, jolting them into a state of heightened alertness. Dread settled in the air, each member of the group exchanging apprehensive glances, the grim reality of their precarious situation amplified by the sudden, ominous sound.

"That’s it, it's time. Let's move," declared Liam, rising first and slinging his bag over his shoulders, gun in hand and poised.

The rest of the group swiftly followed suit, unfazed by the potential danger of infection outside. They rushed out without a second thought, careening into the unknown, decisively choosing their path.

As another gunshot reverberated, it served as their guide, propelling them forward toward the sound. They sprinted towards the echo, undeterred by the peril that may lie ahead, singularly focused on the primary objective.

As they surged into the city centre, Harry and Liam in their usual lead, their momentum abruptly halted. Liam swiftly reined everyone in, pressing them flat against the wall of a narrow alley, their chests heaving with exertion.

The distant echoes of Raider voices and the approaching footsteps reached their ears. Methodically, each of them retrieved their weapons—Zayn discreetly ensuring the daggers tucked under his oversized hoodie were within reach, a small gun checked for ammunition.

"They went that way!" a voice bellowed, followed by the hastened clamour of more feet pounding against the pavement, accompanied by the shrill screech of tires.

Liam cautiously peeked outside, tracking the Raiders' movements with a focused gaze. He swiftly pivoted, scanning upwards for a solution and gesturing towards the fire escape stairs of the nearby building. Working together, they aided each other in jumping up, utilising Harry as a stepping stone until Liam assisted him onto the elevated platform.

Ascending the creaky metal stairs, they navigated into the building and utilised the broken windows to observe the Raiders' movements from above.

Spotting the Raiders closing in on an old factory, their hearts sank with a mix of apprehension and helplessness. The nearness of their friends juxtaposed against the imminent danger left them feeling powerless. Yet, the surge of adrenaline and their unyielding determination to rescue their companions bolstered their resolve.

They stealthily made their way out of the building, advancing cautiously towards the factory where the Raiders had now entered. Each step was calculated, a blend of walking and crouching, as they drew closer to the perilous scene unfolding ahead.

The urgency of the moment left them teetering on the edge of chaos, their nerves jangling and thoughts scattered amidst the stress. With limbs trembling and a sense of feverish tension clouding their minds, they struggled to formulate a coherent plan, their senses bombarded by shouts and commotion emanating from the building.

Outside, the sight of four Raiders loomed, positioned alongside a truck packed with more of their ilk, armed and vigilant, anticipating any attempt by Louis and Niall to escape.

Pressed for time, Liam and Harry manoeuvred stealthily behind the closest pair of Raiders, their movements deliberate and guns stashed discreetly. Meanwhile, Luke, Zayn, and Oli kept watch from a distance, prepared to cover their companions' actions. With calculated precision, Liam and Harry swiftly immobilised their targets, restraining them from behind and rendering them unconscious before seeking cover behind a nearby wall.

Luke and Zayn swiftly disarmed the incapacitated Raiders and confiscated their walkie-talkies. Oli, vigilant and watchful, monitored the Raiders gathered outside, waiting for any sign of movement from them. As Liam and Harry caught their breath and Luke concealed the subdued Raiders, a transmission crackled through the walkie-talkie that Zayn was clutching.

"I've spotted them. They're hiding on the top floor, one of them is injured," the voice echoed from the device, causing a collective pause among the group, their breaths caught in their throats.

The sound of a gun being primed stole their attention, this time emanating from Harry, who stood solemn and resolute at the alley's end. His gaze swept from Liam to Zayn and Oli, his expression sombre yet determined.

Liam hesitated, torn between glancing at the factory and then back at Zayn, but when another gunshot echoed through the air, they knew they had run out of precious moments.

"Hey, you bastards!" Oli bellowed at the Raiders as he emerged alone, stepping forth from behind the wall, his hands raised in surrender.

As the Raiders turned, taken aback by Oli's sudden appearance, Harry, Luke, and Liam surged from the other way without subtlety, unleashing a barrage of gunfire. Zayn made a beeline for the Raider stationed at the entrance, leaping upon him with his dagger poised, swiftly incapacitating the man with a decisive strike to his chest.

The Raiders swarmed in, their numbers increasing with every passing moment.

After unleashing his firearm on the assailants, Harry was blindsided, a sharp blow striking his back, sending him tumbling to the ground in agony. Reacting swiftly, he twisted to shield himself from the masked attacker's follow-up strike. Grappling for a metal bar, he managed to deliver a solid kick to the man's abdomen. Yet, Harry's attempts to rise were thwarted when the Raider landed a fierce blow to his face, disorienting him enough to pin him down, a deadly blade inches from his face.

"Harry!" Oli's desperate cry cut through the chaos as he battled against a camouflaged assailant in military gear.

At the sound of the shout, Zayn whirled around, scanning the fray for Harry. Then he witnessed Luke's momentary pause, a flicker of indecision evident in the tightening of his grip on his gun. He watched in disbelief as Luke took a couple of steps back, fleeing in the opposite direction, leaving Harry to fend for himself.

Reacting swiftly, Zayn launched a devastating headbutt, toppling the Raider to the ground. Seizing a makeshift lance from a fallen adversary, he surged toward Harry, his face smeared with blood, and dispatched the assailant with a decisive thrust. Extending a hand, Zayn hoisted Harry up, offering a supportive pat on his shoulder, both of them drained from the gruelling ordeal. Yet, when Harry winced in agony, clutching his stomach, Zayn's eyes widened in alarm.

"ZAYN!" Liam's urgent cry pierced the chaos as a Raider took aim at Zayn from behind.

With lightning reflexes, Zayn pivoted mid-air as Oli's gunfire rang out, neutralising the Raider before he could take a shot.

Running and running and running.

Louis' bones were aching, his lungs burning in his chest and his clothes drenched in sweat. Not once did he let go of Niall's hand, always making sure to let him enter first in every room or small place they were trying to hide. But right now, they were cornered. Stuck in a small room where Louis did his best to block the door with a thin metal shelf while Niall slumped down on the ground, clenching his knee, they had no issues.

Pacing, hands in his hair, tugging at the strands with nerves, Louis racked his brain for something, anything that could be helpful to them both. But Niall's condition made it clear that they couldn't keep running that way, lest Niall would lose his leg for once.

The sounds of gunshots and screams from outside made him jump and turn hastily in search for a window, or anything that could let him know what was happening.

"Harry!" He heard the scream echoing in the room and even having Niall raise two wide eyes at him.

Oli’s voice was undeniable and recognisable, even among the fire and the noise. He rushed for the small window at the top of the wall, looking everywhere for something to step on to be able to reach.

"Shit, fucking-'' He cursed, tugging at a pile of box and pushing it to the wall, stepping on it and trying not to fall down.

When he finally succeeded to lift himself up high enough for his eyes to reach it, they widened in panic. His friends were outside, fighting, running, screaming, groaning, covered in blood.His mind raced with urgency, propelling him into action.He leaped off the stack of boxes he stood on, making a beeline for Niall.

"Okay, come on, mate. Up you go," Louis urged, wincing at Niall's pained groan as he helped him to his feet.

Supporting Niall under his arms, Louis guided him toward the window.

"Do you think you can make it up here?" Louis asked, his voice tinged with urgency.

"What?" Niall's eyes widened.

"We've got to get out. It's our only shot."

With the Raiders closing in behind the door, his heart pounding in his chest, Louis boosted Niall up onto the boxes. Summoning every ounce of strength, he pushed his friend upward, waiting for Niall's hand to find a purchase on the window frame and push it open. Once sure Niall was holding on, Louis let go and gave a final shove on his thigh, urging him through the window.

Breathing a sigh of relief as Niall made it onto the roof, Louis watched as his friend lay down, extending a hand toward him. But instead of reaching for Niall's hand, Louis retrieved a gun from his waistband, causing Niall's expression to falter.

"What are you doing?" Niall's voice was tinged with concern.

"The way's clear. You need to use the moment of distraction to make a run for it.Find the others," Louis replied, deftly checking the pistol's magazine before snapping it shut.

"But... What about you?"

Louis met his gaze, his blue eyes cutting through the darkness. "I'll be the distraction."

"Louis!" Niall's voice echoed desperately as he attempted to crawl back into the room, but Louis had already chosen a different path, shoving aside wooden planks obstructing another door he hadn't noticed. "Louis! No, Louis, stop!"

However, it was too late. The main door exploded open with a deafening crash, the metal shelf crashing to the floor. Niall flattened himself, barely visible, his eyes darting as the Raiders stormed inside, chasing after Louis with loud shouts and screams.

Harry's consciousness waned as they reached their newfound shelter. He clutched his stomach, feeling the wet stickiness of blood on his fingers. The echo of running and a fresh wave of pain in his chest reverberated through his senses, all muffled by a ringing in his ears. He recognized Zayn beside him, helping him move, but the world seemed distant and cold, the emptiness amplified by every sound bouncing off the walls. His legs faltered, barely able to bear his weight, thankfully cushioned by what felt like a bed. Groaning audibly, Harry tried to make sense of the dim and almost dark place.

"Stay still. You're okay," Zayn's voice reassured him amidst the struggle to remove Harry's bag, hoodie, and t-shirt.

Struggling to open his eyes against the bright light, Harry saw Liam with his back turned and Oli holding his hand. When he looked down, he noticed the alarming sight—a shard of glass jutting from just below his pectoral, blood gushing out.

"Damn it—" Seeing the injury seemed to intensify the agony.

"I know," Zayn acknowledged, discarding his own sweater and grabbing a box from Liam.

"Where are we?" Harry managed to groan.

"In a hospital. We stumbled upon it," Liam replied, untying the baklava from his wrist and gathering it into a ball.

"Louis?" He gritted, head starting to spin suddenly.

Liam didn't respond. Instead, he stuffed the baclava into Harry's mouth while Zayn applied a burning liquid onto the wound, causing Harry to double over in excruciating pain. Oli held him down as Liam assisted.

"This will hurt, a lot," Zayn warned.

Harry nodded, clenching his teeth on the cloth, gripping Oli's hand tightly as he braced himself.

He waited, anticipating the moment, until suddenly, Zayn seized the glass and swiftly pulled it out, immediately pressing a white cloth onto the wound to stop the bleeding. An animalistic moan escaped Harry, stifled by the fabric in his mouth, his veins pulsing, muscles tightening, and legs convulsing on the table, before the pain and the lack of blood caused him to lose consciousness.

Zayn released the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding as Harry's body eased on the hospital bed. Tears welled in his eyes as he raised his bloodstained hands in the air, trembling with a mix of relief and overwhelming emotion. Stepping back, he collided with a small medical trolley.

The others regarded him with surprise and concern, their eyes searching for an explanation. The tension of the chase, the absence of Louis and Niall, the near brushes with death, and Harry's injury had all taken their toll. Everything seemed to crash into Zayn's mind at once, hitting him with the raw reality of their situation.

Zayn stood there, breaths rapid, his fingers coated in blood, his hazel eyes wide with fear. Abruptly, his gaze fixed on Luke, a primal intensity darkening his expression, and Liam and Oli followed suit, the atmosphere suddenly charged and tense.

"What was that?" Zayn's voice, oddly calm in contrast to his frantic visage, sliced through the room.

"W-What?" Luke stammered, his eyes darting between Oli and Liam, seeking some form of support.

With trembling fingers, Zayn pointed at the still-unconscious Harry, blood continuing to seep from his wound. "What was that, outside?"

Luke remained silent, only retreating and avoiding their accusing stares. Zayn's agitation escalated further, his blood boiling, a vein pulsing at the side of his neck. However, it was Liam who stepped forward, moving slowly toward Luke until the latter's back met the door.

"I warned you," Liam's voice sliced through the tension, cutting and sharp. "I told you not to mess with my boys."

Luke shook his head, but one firm gesture from Liam made him freeze, swallowing hard.

"That's your final warning. If you try anything like that again, I'll kill you myself."

Liam then went back to Zayn, landing a comforting hand on his shoulder that made him gasp, jolting him out of the moment. And with that, he abruptly exited the room.

"Look after Harry," he gestured to Oli, who nodded, still holding Harry's limp hand.

Following Zayn into another room, Liam gently pushed the door open, finding his partner leaning over an empty bed, struggling visibly with his emotions. Slowly approaching, Liam placed a gentle hand on Zayn's back, letting it slide up to his neck. With tenderness, Liam turned Zayn toward him, and Zayn willingly wrapped Liam in a tight embrace, his eyes wet against Liam's neck.

Liam comforted him, softly murmuring reassurances, gently swaying from side to side as he ran his fingers through Zayn's now longer hair. He placed tender kisses against Zayn's temple, offering him solace in the embrace.

In the desolate silence of the hospital, a loud thud reverberated, causing Zayn and Liam to startle, swiftly taking defensive positions. Liam drew his weapon from his back, shielding Zayn behind him as the dark-haired readied a dagger, cautiously trailing behind Liam. Stepping cautiously out of the room, they found Luke already poised with his gun, aimed toward the far end of the corridor where faint rustling and noises could be discerned. They braced themselves, the tension mounting as the sounds drew nearer.

With bated breath, they watched the hospital's double doors tremble and then yield, pushing open slightly. Amidst the parted doors, a bloodied brunette figure collapsed to the ground, eliciting a collective gasp from the group.

His blade clattered to the floor as Zayn emerged from behind Liam, rushing toward the limp body. He dropped to his knees, hoisting the figure against his chest.

"It's Niall!" Zayn's cry pierced the air, prompting Oli to rush out of the room, visibly alarmed, followed by a bare-chested Harry, his torso wrapped in a bloodied bandage.

Gathering around Zayn and Niall, they observed the brunette grimacing, panting heavily, his knees clenched in obvious pain. Oli crouched down, offering Niall his water and aiding him to drink, while Zayn helped him out of his backpack.

As Niall gradually settled, catching his breath, he locked eyes with Harry, his own gaze shining and wet with guilt.

"They got him," Niall murmured, his voice strained with distress.

Chapter 18: The Hospital

Chapter Text

Two hours had slipped by since Louis vanished.

Harry's deep, gaping wound persisted in bleeding, the looming threat of infection growing by the moment. However, none among the group had experience in suturing, leaving Harry in a perilous situation. Yet, it was Niall's condition that stirred the most concern.

His knees, once more swollen and bruised, bore knife scratches and a stubbornly bleeding wound above his eyebrow. But beyond the physical injuries, their worry centred on his mental state. Exhausted, they allowed him to rest against Liam, who provided comfort while Zayn tended to Niall's injuries and wiped away the blood from his face. Silence predominated among them, marked by Oli and Luke's pallid faces after the unsettling announcement. Harry withdrew into a heavy, foreboding silence, while Liam attempted to maintain a facade of cheerfulness, keeping an eye on Zayn, who teetered on the brink of a breakdown hours earlier. Yet, beneath Liam's effort to uplift spirits, worry and dread churned within him.

As Niall gradually regained consciousness, he groaned and nestled closer to Liam, who extended his arm to offer more comfort. Oli, visibly anxious, was the first to rise from his seat and approach Niall, his eyes wide with worry.

"What happened?" Oli pressed, his gaze pleading for answers.

Harry lifted his head from where it had been resting against his fist, struggling against the urge to drift off. He, too, groaned when shifting in his seat, fixing intense eyes on Niall, awaiting his explanation.

Liam gently patted Niall's hair, seeking to provide solace and reassure him that there was no rush. The young man was still somewhat disoriented and dazed, blinking as he surveyed each of the boys, deliberately avoiding Harry's gaze.

"I—" Niall cleared his throat, leaning away slightly from Liam's shoulder but not releasing himself from his embrace. "My knee," he admitted with guilt, his voice trembling. He glanced down at his torn trousers, blood still glistening from his injured knee. "Louis did his best to help me, but he's so fast. When we had to hide, I fell, and the Raiders heard me. They chased us down two streets. We were cornered."

A heavy silence enveloped the room as the boys cast their eyes downward. Harry nervously bit the skin around his thumb.

"And?" Luke inquired, moving from the corner of the room to stand beside Oli, a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"We got trapped in a supply closet or something," Niall continued, looking at Oli. "Louis heard you screaming. He went for the window, and I don't know what he saw, but that's when he just... he pulled me up and told me to go through the window."

Luke's gaze immediately shifted to Harry, while Zayn, Oli, and Liam all directed their attention toward Luke. Luke swallowed guiltily, avoiding their eyes.

"Once I was on the roof, I thought he would take my hand and come with me," Niall went on. "But he just... he took out the gun and said he'd serve as a distraction for me to find you guys."

Harry winced, shutting his eyes tightly and biting down on his thumb too hard as the weight of Niall's words hit him like a sledgehammer. A heavy sensation dropped in his stomach, almost making him feel queasy. However, he took a deep breath, still keeping his eyes shut as Niall continued speaking.

"I tried to run, but... And by the time I made it down the building, I saw Louis bolting out and running in the opposite direction. They didn't see me; they all went after him, chased him with cars a-and... shooting."

Liam pulled Niall close once more, all the boys exhaling heavily and wearing pained expressions as they looked at the ground in unison.

"You need to eat," Oli insisted, his voice wavering, his gaze avoiding direct contact. He rummaged through his bag with trembling hands, pulling out items almost frantically, some dropping to the ground in his haste.

Zayn, sensing Oli's distress, looked at him with concern and approached, placing a gentle hand on Oli's forearm to halt his frantic actions. But instead, Oli let out a pained moan and, with tears streaming down his cheeks, flung the entire bag to the ground. Startled, Zayn recoiled, watching in astonishment as Oli dashed out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

The group stared at the closed door, shocked. Niall winced, biting his lip, feeling his own eyes well up. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, almost to himself, but it prompted Liam to hug him tightly for comfort.

"I'll check on him," Luke offered, stepping backward toward the door and eventually leaving the room.

"We need to check the area," Harry announced from his seat, rising and reaching for his backpack to retrieve a clean shirt. Despite the pain caused by his wound, he attempted to put it on by himself, wincing and involuntarily recoiling in pain.

Liam moved behind him, trying to assist, but Harry forcefully pushed him away, causing Liam to stumble and collide with a small cabinet. "I can do it by myself!" Harry snapped, breathless, as guilt immediately clouded his expression while he fiddled with the shirt, resembling a guilty child.

Zayn leaped off the bed, stunned, his mouth agape. All three froze in place as Harry panted, gazing at the floor, wrestling with his emotions. Eventually, Liam composed himself, adjusted his own shirt, and gently took Harry's shirt, this time helping him put it on.

Once done, Liam stepped back, meeting Harry's guilt-ridden gaze. "Sorry," Harry confessed, his eyes reflecting not just guilt but also profound heartache.

Liam offered a tight-lipped smile, enveloping Harry in a hug and patting his back reassuringly. Zayn hesitated for a moment before tentatively approaching them. Catching sight of Zayn over Liam's shoulder, Harry opened one arm, welcoming Zayn into the embrace. The three of them stood there, eyes closed, finding solace in each other's warmth, seeking comfort in their shared embrace.

Luke discovered Oli at the end of a lengthy corridor, within the dormitories designated for previous hospital staff. He pushed open the door, burdened by a weight of guilt and nerves. Since Louis and the others had arrived, Luke felt he had been nothing but a series of missteps, blunders, and provocations.

As the door creaked, Luke found Oli perched on one of the bunk beds, head buried in his hands, his foot tapping a disordered rhythm on the floor. Emotions surged within Luke as he observed his typically bright and cheerful best friend in such a rare state. Slowly, he knelt in front of Oli, placing his hands on his knees, hoping to offer some comfort.

He felt Oli flinch slightly, and Luke licked his lips, seeking the right words.

"Go away," Oli's voice emerged, muffled and shaky, laden with emotion.

"Oli, mate..." Luke sighed.

But Oli wasn't finished. He pushed away Luke's hand, rising from the bed, causing Luke to stand to prevent him from falling. Wide-eyed, Luke was shocked by Oli's outpouring of emotion.

"Are you happy now?" Oli screamed at him.

"I don't... I don't understand."

"You've made him miserable! You've been provoking and starting fights for no reason since the beginning!"

"Oli, I... I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

"What's the last thing you said to him?" Oli spat, closing in on Luke menacingly.

Luke reflexively took a step back, racking his brain for the answer. However, all he could recall were his own words, the tension, and Louis's disappointed gaze.

Oli stormed out of the room, and Luke followed, desperate to defend and explain himself. He trailed after Oli, attempting to get him to listen, to talk, but his friend wasn't receptive. Oli barged back into the room, interrupting the boys' embrace, causing them to part in surprise.

"I want nothing to do with you!" Oli yelled, halting Luke's advance, leaving the trio bewildered by the escalating tension between the two best friends.

"Oli, wait, just let me—"

"Leave me alone!"

Zayn disengaged himself from Liam and Harry, positioning himself next to Oli, raising his hands in surrender, pleading for both of them to stop.

"We're all affected by what happened. But tearing each other down won't help us find him. Louis wouldn't want to see you like this. Either of you."

Oli and Luke exchanged a glance filled with understanding, sorrow, and pain before Oli made the first move, extending a hand towards his friend. They embraced tightly, Oli squeezing his eyes shut to contain the tears that threatened to stream down his face since the events of that night unfolded. When they parted, Harry spoke up.

"We need to search the entire building. We might not be alone," he declared, reaching for his gun, checking the bullets, and then loading it with another set of bullets. "And then, we have to start planning how to find him."

"You're not seriously planning to go out tomorrow, are you?" Liam interjected.

Harry halted his actions, a deep furrow forming between his eyebrows. "Did you really expect me to sit there patiently?"

"You need to recover first," Zayn chimed in, filled with concern. "We've been on the run all day. We need food and rest. Going out now would be putting ourselves in danger."

As Harry prepared to respond, Oli's voice rose abruptly. "Louis would never forgive me if something happened to you."

Stepping in front of Harry, Oli took the gun from his hand with some effort. "You rest with Niall. We'll scout the area and then we'll eat."

Though visibly conflicted, Harry slowly nodded when he glanced up at Niall, who was curled up on a chair, trembling.

The boys readied themselves for their inspection of the building, carrying their backpacks and weapons in case. Before leaving the room, Zayn paused and turned towards Harry. He tossed something to him, which Harry caught mid-air—a Talkie.

"Channel four. If you need anything. But whatever you do, don't press channel two. It's theirs."

The hospital loomed before them like a ghostly sentinel, its once sterile corridors now enveloped in an eerie silence. The air inside carried a heavy sense of abandonment, the scent of dust and decay mingling with the faint echoes of distant chaos that once consumed these halls. Their footfalls were muffled against the cold, tiled floors as the boys cautiously entered the forsaken building.

As their flashlights cut through the gloom, the hospital revealed its desolation. Cracks webbed across walls once painted a sterile white, now yellowed and peeling with neglect. Doors hung from their hinges, swinging ominously in the draughty corridors. Medical equipment lay scattered and forgotten, its usefulness lost to the passage of time. Discarded gurneys and overturned chairs obstructed their path, a testament to the hasty evacuation that took place.

The group proceeded cautiously, their breaths visible in the chilly air, each room they entered a silent witness to the aftermath of catastrophe. Patient rooms lay in disarray, the beds stripped bare, their sheets long since tattered and stained. The once-bustling nurses' station now stood as a hollow shell, papers strewn across the floor, medical charts yellowed and scattered.

Inside the hospital's corridors, the group moved cautiously, their flashlights casting long shadows against the peeling walls. Oli's tense voice cut through the silence. "This place gives me the creeps."

Luke, his nerves on edge, nodded in agreement. "And it’s fucking huge."

Zayn scanned the darkened rooms, his voice tinged with urgency. “We need to find those supplies quickly and get out."

Liam, eyes scanning the hallways for any sign of danger, his flashlight illuminating a long trail of blood on the once white wall, spoke with a firm resolve. "We don't know what's lurking in these corners. Keep your guard up, everyone."

The boys escorted Harry and Niall into a room designated for their much-needed rest. Tucked away at the far end of the hospital's left-wing on the second floor, the interns' dormitory provided a stark refuge that offered little in the way of comfort. They sought refuge amidst the rusting lockers and worn-out bunk beds that once accommodated hospital staff. The air was heavy with the weight of their injuries and the absence of their missing friend, Louis.

As Harry reclined on his makeshift bed, his gaze fixed on the ceiling, a deep ache gnawed at his core. His wounds paled in comparison to the gaping void left by Louis's absence. Every fibre of his being longed for his presence, the silence around him echoing with a haunting emptiness that intensified Harry's denial.

Niall, curled up on his own bed nearby, was enveloped in a shroud of guilt. The weight of the situation pressed heavily on him, his mind swirling with thoughts of what could have been done differently to prevent Louis's disappearance.

In a moment of vulnerability, Niall's sobs pierced the otherwise quiet room, echoing the anguish that both he and Harry shared. Harry, initially startled by the sound, found himself overwhelmed by emotions he had been desperately trying to suppress. Despite his own inner turmoil, he moved toward Niall.

He reached out to his friend, enveloping Niall in a tentative yet comforting embrace. "It's not your fault," Harry murmured softly, his voice tinged with a hint of pain. "Louis would be proud of you. You did everything you could. You're stronger than you think."

Niall clung to Harry, tears streaming down his face, finding solace in his friend's attempt to provide comfort. Harry's words, laden with empathy and reassurance, offered a fleeting moment of respite in the midst of their turmoil.

Summoning strength from the depths of his own grief, Harry gently pulled away from the embrace. "I'll keep watch tonight," he declared, his voice unwavering despite the emotional weight pressing down on him. "You try and get some sleep, okay? We'll find a way to bring Louis back."

With a nod, Niall wiped away his tears, exhaustion etched into his features. He reluctantly reclined on the bed, his eyes heavy with fatigue. Accepting Harry's offer, he whispered a faint "thank you" before succumbing to the pull of sleep.

As Niall drifted into uneasy slumber, Harry's gaze lingered on his friend for a moment longer, his own wounded soul seeking solace in the task at hand. With a deep breath, Harry turned his attention to the task of keeping watch, determined to guard over his friends and find a way to bring Louis back.

The quarantine zone loomed before them like a haunting reminder of the hospital's failed attempts at containment.

Yellow quarantine tents, tattered and taped to the walls, fluttered in the stale air, casting ominous shadows across the floor. The remnants of the makeshift isolation area seemed frozen in time, a relic of a desperate attempt to halt the spread of a deadly contagion. Face masks lay discarded on the ground, some torn and stained with dried blood, hinting at the chaotic urgency that once prevailed.

With every calculated step they took, the boys felt the weight of their breaths under the masks, the hush of their own footsteps amplifying the unnerving silence. Their flashlights pierced the dimness, illuminating scattered hospital beds—some overturned, others still holding crumpled sheets, a testimony to the abrupt abandonment of the zone.

Bloodstains, dark and foreboding, marred the floor, painting a grim narrative of the struggle that had unfolded within these walls. Each splatter told a silent tale of fear and desperation, sending shivers down their spines as they continued their cautious advance.

The boys gripped their weapons tightly, their knuckles white with tension, eyes darting from corner to corner, wary of any lurking danger. The air was thick with a sense of foreboding, a palpable unease that seemed to seep into their bones with every passing moment.

Amidst the unsettling quietude, the corridors twisted and turned, creating a maze-like atmosphere that disoriented their senses. Shadows danced ominously along the walls, flickering as the boys moved cautiously through the desolate quarantine zone. As they progressed deeper into the heart of the once-isolated area, the feeling of being watched intensified, sending a chill down their spines. Every creak, every rustle, echoed with an eerie resonance, fueling their anxiety and urging them to remain vigilant.

Oli’s flashlight illuminated a cabinet hidden in the shadows. "Guys, over here!" His voice echoed with a hint of excitement.

Zayn rushed over, peering into the cabinet's dusty interior, eyes widening with cautious optimism. "This is what we need. Let's gather everything and head back."

As they collected the much-needed supplies, Luke and Liam kept their guns poised at the opposite corridors, always ready if something, or someone would come out. Zayn checked on last time at the Talkie.

Just as they prepared to depart, Luke noticed something hidden among the debris—a partially obscured door. "Guys, there's something else here."

Curiosity mingled with caution as they approached the concealed doorway. Zayn's flashlight revealed a hidden chamber, its entrance sealed by heavy metal doors.

"What could be in there?" Oli's voice wavered with a blend of curiosity and unease.

Liam stepped forward, determination etched on his face as he raised a hand to tell the others to stay back, as he approached it. As he cautiously pried open the heavy doors, the dim light revealed rows of shelves, boxes, and crates—undisturbed and filled with various supplies. A cache of untouched provisions lay before them.

Zayn's eyes widened in astonishment. "Bloody….’’’

Oli rushed into the room with big eyes. ‘’Food, water, more medical supplies..."

Amidst the sense of relief, Luke's voice was tinged with cautious optimism. "This might just be what we need to survive a little longer in this place."

Back on the second floor, the dorm room felt strangely intimate as they all huddled together, the weight of their shared experiences binding them closer than ever before. The room, though small and worn, became a sanctuary amidst the chaos that surrounded them.

Zayn's swift actions upon their arrival indicated a sense of urgency. He entrusted his belongings to Harry and immediately checked on Niall, his concern evident as he gently tended to his sleeping friend. The unspoken understanding among the boys led them to cluster their belongings on two chairs, their eyes reflecting a mix of weariness and worry.

As they gathered around the meagre provisions they had scavenged, the air hung heavy with unspoken emotions. Zayn's gentle call to wake Niall drew the attention of the group, their collective focus shifting to their wounded friend.

"Niall, wake up. There's food," Zayn urged softly, offering a reassuring touch to rouse him from his slumber.

Gathered on the floor, their worried gazes fixated on Niall, but Liam's attention was drawn elsewhere. He watched Harry closely, observing the stark contrast between Harry's facade of composure and the turmoil beneath the surface. The emptiness in Harry's eyes didn't escape Liam's notice, a silent understanding passing between them.

‘’Let’s all eat and rest for a bit. Then I’ll take care of you.’’ Zayn nodded toward Harry, his fingers still brushing Niall’s hair. ‘’While I do that, Liam, Luke and Oli, you try to have some sleep.’’ His directive gaze held a firmness that brooked no argument, not even from Liam, who acquiesced with a single nod.

"Alright," Liam responded.

In the aftermath of a modest dinner, providing a fleeting moment of respite, Zayn guided Harry and Niall into a sterile room, where he diligently tended to Harry's wound. Niall, steadfastly by Harry's side, offered silent support, squeezing his hand tightly and assisting in keeping him composed during the procedure. With careful precision, Zayn skillfully sutured Harry's wound before turning his attention to Niall's injuries, applying meticulous care to each wound.

Following the necessary medications and rehydration, as they prepared to rejoin the others, Zayn halted them with a wordless gesture, opening his arms in a silent invitation. Without hesitation, Niall nestled close against Zayn's comforting embrace, seeking solace in the warmth of his presence. However, Harry hesitated, his brows furrowing as he stared down at his worn boots, uncertainty clouding his expression.

Zayn's gentle pull on Harry's wrist beckoned him forward, a silent reassurance encouraging Harry to step closer. Like a hesitant figure uncertain of his own emotions, Harry tentatively allowed Zayn to enfold him in a comforting embrace, the unexpected surge of warmth and security stirring unfamiliar emotions within him. With a swallow of uncertainty, he raised his arms, enveloping both boys in a hesitant yet heartfelt embrace.

Sleep proved to be elusive, a luxury difficult to attain when the weight of fear, guilt, heartache, and uncertainty weighed heavy on their minds. Despite the exhaustion that numbed their legs, strained their lungs, and parched their throats, slumber remained a fleeting visitor, slipping away as they grappled with the unknowns that awaited them upon waking.

Their thoughts, like an incessant drumbeat, echoed around a single person—a constant presence in their minds, consuming their every waking thought.

Yet, after a prolonged battle against the relentless pull of sleep, they eventually succumbed to its grasp.

In the confined space, Zayn and Niall found solace in sharing a narrow bed, huddled together under a meagre blanket, seeking warmth and a sense of safety. Liam, fatigued beyond measure, settled on the floor, his head resting on Zayn's hand as a makeshift pillow. Luke and Oli occupied the other bunk bed, their presence offering a sense of companionship in the dimly lit room.

And then there was Harry—the last to surrender to the embrace of sleep. Seated in a plastic chair, his gun held tightly in his grip, he valiantly fought against the encroaching oblivion. His head drooped, nodding in and out of sleep, a futile attempt to remain vigilant even in the realm of dreams. The weight of their collective ordeal manifested in the restless slumber that now claimed them, each finding a way to surrender to the temporary respite that sleep offered amidst the turmoil of their reality.

Hours might have slipped away, or mere moments—it was an indistinguishable blur in the hushed confines of the room. A subtle creak pierced the silence, rousing Harry from a fitful slumber. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, his senses sharpened as muffled voices danced through the air, sending a shiver down his spine.

Surveying the sleeping figures around him didn't offer solace; instead, it heightened his apprehension. Leaning forward, Harry strained to discern the faint sounds echoing from the hallway. A subsequent click of a closing door spurred him into action.

Quiet as a ghost, he approached Liam, shaking him awake with a gesture for silence. Zayn stirred at the disturbance, his eyes flickering open, registering the tense stance of Harry and Liam. Without a word, Harry motioned toward the Talkie Walkie tucked in his pocket, prompting a hesitant Zayn to retrieve it, careful not to disturb the slumbering Niall beside him.

Eyes darting between the device and the door, Harry's furrowed brows betrayed his concern as he tuned the Walkie Talkie to channel two. The device crackled with interference, the muffled sound compelling them to strain to decipher the message.

In the cramped space, time seemed suspended as they held their breath, fixated on the device, the trio's anticipation palpable. Luke, Oli, and Niall remained undisturbed in their sleep, oblivious to the rising tension.

Then, at last, a voice broke through the static, chilling in its clarity. "Chef, we're in the hospital."

Chapter 19: The Hunt

Summary:

Ladies and Gentlemen, Zayn.

Chapter Text

The air thickened with tension, each passing second a testament to the dire circumstances that engulfed them. Zayn's hushed expletive reverberated, a silent echo of their shared apprehension as Liam swiftly and silently rallied the group, urging them into a tense huddle at the room's centre.

"What now?" Luke's voice quivered, fingers trembling around the small gun in his grasp. The weight of their collective past trials seemed to bear down on them, the gravity of their present situation amplifying the urgency. Mistakes were unforgivable, and leaving anyone behind was inconceivable—at any cost.

Harry paced, fingers entwined in his hair, while the Talkie crackled incessantly with static and garbled voices. Muffled noises downstairs only intensified the impending threat looming over them.

"It's my fault..." Niall's voice quivered, laden with guilt and sorrow. "They must have followed me here..."

Zayn sought to comfort him, tightening his embrace, while Liam offered a small smile. But Niall's guilt spiralled, the weight of his words sinking him deeper into despair. He withdrew from Zayn, sinking onto a bunk bed, consumed by anguish and self-blame.

"It's all my fault... Louis is dead, and we're going to die," Niall choked, anguish lacing every word.

Harry's gaze darted to Niall, a pang of concern etched on his face, as he noticed the others frozen in uncertainty. He pressed the Walkie Talkie into Liam's hand and moved toward Niall, urging him to focus.

"Hey, hey, hey, listen to me," Harry implored, grasping Niall's wrists and compelling him to meet his gaze. "You need to breathe."

"I can't keep doing this, I'm so tired, Harry..." Niall's voice wavered, his resolve crumbling under the weight of desperation.

"Niall," Harry's tone deepened, his grip firm yet gentle on Niall's cheeks, drawing their eyes together. "What's her name?"

Confusion flickered across Niall's tear-stricken face. "What?"

"The girl you're in love with," Harry pressed, his voice insistent. "What's her name?"

As the others looked on, startled, Niall faltered, his tears momentarily ceasing. His gaze drifted, searching for Harry's eyes, his voice barely a whisper. "A-Amelia."

"Think of her," Harry urged, his words cutting through the turmoil. "Think of how happy she'll be when she sees you."

But Niall continued to shake his head, eyes closed in despair. Harry gently cupped his face, drawing them closer.

"Do you still have the ring?"

Understanding dawned on Zayn, his grip tightening on Liam's arm as they waited for Niall's response. With a slow nod, Niall affirmed.

"You'll give it to her, I promise you,"

The room tensed, each breath a weighted reminder of their precarious situation. Oli's voice pierced through the unease, drawing their attention as he leaned against the wall, his gun resting at the ready.

"If they followed Niall," Oli began, his gaze flitting between Niall and Harry, "they might know where Louis is."

A distant sound reverberated, causing Harry to cast a worried glance toward the door. He rose, running a hand over his face, contemplating the gravity of Oli's suggestion.

"That could work," Liam chimed in, a glimmer of determination in his eyes.

"And then what?" Luke's scepticism echoed softly. "We storm down there, eliminate them until they talk? Invade their hideout to rescue Louis? There might be a hundred of them."

"It's a risk, but it’s worth trying." Zayn conceded, leaving Liam's side to rummage through their bags. Retrieving a tommy gun, he deftly prepared it for action.

Harry stood motionless, his mind a tumultuous whirlwind of thoughts centred on Louis—alone, wounded, and vulnerable. He swallowed hard, his eyes darkening as he turned to Zayn.

"We could capture one of them, extract information," Harry proposed, his voice cold and resolute.

"And then what?" Luke persisted. "We'd be outnumbered and outgunned."

"We improvise," Zayn replied firmly. "But we have to try, for Louis."

The boys were on high alert, each breath calculated, as they geared up in the dimly lit room of the hospital dormitory. Their weapons were readied, ammunition checked, and faces concealed behind protective masks. Anxiety and determination mingled in the air, an electric charge pulsating within them, propelled solely by the hope of rescuing their friends.

With cautious movements, they silently stepped out of the dorm room, the creaking floorboards beneath their feet causing their hearts to skip a beat. Harry gestured for everyone to stay low and move swiftly, his hand signalling for them to keep quiet. They moved along the corridor, their eyes constantly scanning for any sign of danger. As they reached the railing, the tension escalated. Downstairs, the muffled echo of heavy footsteps reverberated through the halls. The sound of a dozen raiders clad in navy clothing, donning imposing masks and weapons, pierced through the silence. Their flashlights cut through the darkness, casting eerie shadows across the walls, as their heavy boots crushed the glass.

A surge of adrenaline shot through the group, fear and determination etched on their faces. They pressed themselves against the walls, their breaths shallow and controlled.

They exchanged tense glances, their eyes wide with apprehension. Harry motioned for them to remain motionless until the raiders passed. Time seemed to stretch endlessly as they held their breath, hoping and praying that they wouldn't be detected. Once the raiders disappeared from sight, they all released a collective exhale, their hearts pounding in their chests.

The boys stealthily navigated the dark corridors, deliberately keeping their flashlights off to avoid drawing attention. They needed to find a place that would offer good cover up, and not many options left to be cornered by enemies. Their silent yet swift advance brought them back to the abandoned quarantine zone, just steps away from the yellow tents. But as Harry, pressed against the wall, prepared to signal the others to move forward, he halted, spotting a bloodstain illuminated by a flashlight—a clear indicator that the path was unsafe. With bated breath, Niall melded into the wall, gripping his backpack tightly. They held their collective breath as the flashlight's beam grazed the ground, nearly revealing Harry's boot.

Voices and the ominous shuffle of armed footsteps followed, prompting Harry to scramble for a plan. He exchanged a glance with Liam and signalled. With a nod of agreement, Harry took a daring leap, crawling toward the opposite corridor, leaving the others separated by the hallway, their eyes fixed on him.

He straightened up slowly, back sliding against the wall, fingers cinching tight around the rifle. With a resigned sigh, he rested his head against the wall. There was no margin for error; the confrontation was now inevitable.

Carefully retrieving the silencer from his pocket, he affixed it to the muzzle of his weapon. Once prepared, he shouldered the rifle, closing one eye to peer through the scope. Holding his breath was crucial for maintaining precision as he awaited a lone Raider, having strayed from the quarantine zone, to enter his line of fire.

He fired—a clean, precise shot to the man's head.

He held his breath as the body slumped halfway down the corridor, hoping no other Raiders had heard. The fallen position risked alerting the others, the man dangerously close to them.

He glanced at Liam, panicked and alert. But Liam only offered him a curt nod.

He almost protested, a sound of disagreement stuck in his throat as he saw Liam break his cover and crawl quickly toward the body. Hastily, Harry held his breath again and resumed his position, taking Liam into his line of sight as well as the surroundings, in an attempt to cover him. No sooner had Liam managed to pull the dead body into the closest room, dangerously close to the quarantine zone and leaving a trail of blood behind them, that Harry saw a shadow flickering, another Raider. Harry's heart raced as the figure halted, scrutinising the blood trail before cautiously following it, glancing over his shoulder.

Harry waited, patience strained, until the Raider was sufficiently distanced from the yellow tents to take the shot.

But this time, luck eluded him; the bullet hit the man's shoulder, not fatal.

"They're here!" The man's scream pierced the air, his agony evident as he clutched his shoulder, trying to take a run. Without hesitation, Harry fired again, this time ending the man's life.

With no options left, Harry swiftly removed the silencer from his gun and hurled it toward Zayn before making a dash. He sprinted until reaching the closest cover near the tents, taking refuge behind a forgotten emergency bed.

The cacophony of bootsteps, grunts, and curses echoed as numerous Raiders closed in on them. Unexpectedly, Niall dashed toward Harry, ducking into a nearby room and shutting the door behind him. Harry strained to peek inside through the shattered window. His breath hitched at the sight of Niall fashioning a Molotov cocktail, his bag sprawled open before him. Harry retreated deeper into his hiding spot, clutching the gun to his chest, eyes darting between Zayn, Luke, Oli, and Liam.

Footsteps drew nearer, fast approaching. Just as Harry poised to take aim again, a glass bottle shattered, erupting into flames, followed by anguished screams.

Reacting instinctively, Harry lunged forward, sprinting through the yellow tents with Luke and Liam hot on his heels. Exploiting the distraction caused by the fire, they targeted any visible enemies, engaging in the corridor. The chaos of the spreading flames and a man struggling to douse the fire provided cover as they fired at the foes in their line of sight. In the maze of the lengthy corridor, doors and rooms offered scant hiding spots. They made do, utilising fallen beds and hastily positioned boxes for cover.

Niall, perched behind the window of a small room, already had his gun aimed. Luke and Oli provided cover fire as Harry and Liam charged into a larger emergency room, its centrepiece a prominent counter. Liam took the lead, swiftly eliminating any visible threats while shielding Harry. In a calculated move, Harry used his momentum to slam into one assailant's abdomen, disorienting him, and then seized the opportunity to grip the man's hair and smash his face onto the counter. Leaping over, he pressed his back against it, soon joined by Liam.

Taking refuge behind the reception counters, they reloaded their weapons and caught their breath while the others remained hidden within the room.

As more footsteps echoed from another door at the room's rear, Harry sighed in frustration. "How many of them are there?" he cursed, turning to face the potential threat.

Preparing to aim again, Harry barely had time to react as something whooshed past, narrowly missing his head before landing on the floor nearby. Reacting swiftly, he took cover, shielding his face just before the explosive device detonated, engulfing two men emerging from the double doors in flames.

The chaos and explosion left Harry's ears ringing, but Liam's frantic concern snapped him back to attention.

"I'm okay," Harry assured, though the ringing persisted.

Repositioning themselves, they aimed their weapons at the double doors, vigilant for any movement. They downed two more assailants, yet an eerie silence settled over the hospital, stirring panic in Oli.

"Are they... all dead?" Oli's worry reflected in his eyes, casting uncertainty among the group.

Harry shook his head, uncertain himself, still attempting to alleviate the persistent ringing in his ears. With Liam and Luke leading cautiously, they approached the double doors, sidestepping the charred bodies on the floor. Zayn, armed with small guns, covered their retreat.

Venturing into the corridor, they braced themselves for what lay beyond the door. Liam and Luke flanked either side of it, awaiting Harry's signal, while Oli, Niall, and Zayn covered Harry with their weapons. As Harry's countdown reached its final moments, Luke and Liam swung the doors open. Almost reflexively, Niall lobbed another Molotov, narrowly avoided by Harry as he crouched. The explosion echoed in an otherwise empty room, their senses heightened as they waited for any response.

With caution, gun at the ready, Harry moved into the dissipating smoke, scanning left and right.

"Let's check," Liam's directive prompted the boys to split into smaller groups, investigating the various rooms.

Harry entered what seemed to be an examination room. Checking quickly for the room, worry about his friends, he turned around and was ready to exit it. But as he was about to reach the dorm, someone grabbed at his throat, out of nowhere, causing his gun to fall on the ground. A man's grip tightened around his neck as another assailant lunged forward, aiming a blade at him. With the rest of the group occupied, Harry was left to fend for himself.

Reacting swiftly, he swung his heavy boots, connecting solidly with the stomach of the knife-wielding attacker and sending him flying out of the room. Simultaneously, he jerked his head backward, the resounding crack signalling a successful headbutt to the nose of the other assailant.

He turned around quickly and with pure rage, walked backward with the man, a hand grabbing at his whole face and slammed his head against the wall, hard enough to have the man collapsing on the floor.

‘’Zayn!”’ He heard, causing him to rush out of the room after grabbing his gun again. In the chaos, a sudden blow struck Zayn from behind, sending him crashing to the ground. Liam, quick to react, fired a shot, neutralising the assailant before rushing to Zayn's aid.

Harry looked at each of his friends, ready to go close to Zayn and help Liam to get him up and check for his bleeding skull, before he saw Niall, opening large and wide blue eyes at him. He had enough time to turn around and send a bone crushing blow at the man’s jaw, watching him falling on the ground, his chest heaving and his long curls damp with sweat.

He turned back to his friends, and looked away at all the blood and the mess, on their clothes, on the ground and the walls. He sighed, letting his head fall back between his shoulder blades, before he brought his gaze on the two still alive Raiders, crawling away from them.

The room echoed with the sound of impact as Harry relentlessly delivered blows to the Raider on the ground. Each punch resonated with force, accompanied by sickening thuds as bones connected with flesh. Liam, observing from a distance, winced with each strike, feeling the weight of every bone-crunching blow.

At the third punch, Liam averted his gaze, his attention drawn to the second Raider, tied and straining against the ropes that cut into his skin. He watched the man's struggle intently, a mix of pity and detachment in his eyes.

When Harry finally ceased the assault, panting heavily, his knuckles stained with blood, he looked to Liam, a mixture of exhaustion and determination etched across his face. Liam, with a flat voice, reminded him of the initial plan.

"The plan was not to kill him," Liam uttered, his voice devoid of emotion, unable to bear witnessing the brutal outcome.

Harry, wiping away blood from his face with a grimace, responded assuredly, "He's not dead."

He held his injured hand against his chest, wincing slightly as he adjusted it to alleviate the pain, moving through the empty room. The Raider, though badly battered, was still breathing, his bloodied face a haunting reminder of the violence that had unfolded.

Harry approached Liam, his breathing still heavy, attempting to steady himself. Zayn's entrance halted him momentarily, the scrutiny evident in Zayn's quick assessment. Without a word, Zayn tossed a bottle of water to Harry, his concern masked behind a casual demeanour as he leaned against the wall beside Liam, arms crossed.

"So?" Zayn prompted, his tone suggesting impatience.

"They're not talking," Liam responded, irritation lacing his words.

"I can push harder," Harry asserted, determination flashing in his eyes.

"You'll end up killing them," Zayn shot back, his reply swift and dismissive, concern for both Harry and the captives evident despite his brusque tone.

Silent hung around them, punctuated only by the muffled grunts of the wounded Raider on the floor and the struggle of his friend, still fighting the restraint of the tight ropes Oli and Luke had tied around his wrists and ankles a few minutes earlier.

With a sudden and dramatic sigh, Zayn pushed away from the wall, going straight into the room. Liam's first reflex was to try to stop him, straightening from the wall and ready to follow, only to be stopped by Harry with a gentle hand pressed against Liam's stomach, to halt his impulsive reaction.

Zayn, with an air of deliberate calmness, fetched a chair and dragged it across the room. Once he reached his wanted place, he positioned it in front of the bound Raider. Straddling the chair, he leaned in close, resting his elbows on the chair's back, a deceptive tranquillity masking his intent. The Raider levelled him with a surprised look after, before it turned into one of disgust.

"Now now now," Zayn inquired, rolling his head on his shoulders and letting the bones crack, ‘’Is he alive ?’’ He asked once he brought his gaze back on the man’s face.

"I don't know who you're talking about," the Raider retorted defiantly.

"Don't play dumb," Zayn pressed, one of his hands deftly reaching behind him. Liam and Harry followed its path with apprehension. "Blue eyes, brown hair, loud mouth, quick runner," Zayn described, his voice calm, almost annoyed.

"I don't know any blu-" Before the Raider could finish, Zayn swiftly plunged a dagger into the man's thigh, right before the knee. Agony seared through the Raider, eliciting a gut-wrenching scream as he curled forward, clutching the chair's armrests.

Liam's arms dropped to his sides, his expression a mixture of shock and disbelief as he watched Zayn transform from composed to a chillingly cold figure. Zayn's demeanour shifted, his eyes narrowed, devoid of their usual warmth.

“Focus,’’ Zayn seized the man's neck, whispering menacingly into his ear, his voice a dangerous hiss. "Focus. Right here." His hand trailed from the man's neck to his cheek, and then his chin, forcing the Raider's gaze to meet his own, preventing him from fainting due to pain or blood loss. The man sobbed, his eyes opening wide with terror as he locked gazes with Zayn, who was back to holding his neck. ‘’I’ll rip your balls off." Zayn whispered to him with a small smile, like a promise. The threat heavy in his tone, the dagger held steady in his flesh as the Raider strained to remain still. "A blue-eyed boy,” He repeated.

The Raider, wracked with pain and fear, nodded frantically, moaning intermittently. Zayn observed with an eerie calmness as the man's condition deteriorated.

"He's alive," the Raider managed to gasp, his words strained. "He's Simon's new pet. But he’s alive."

The mention of the name jolted both Harry and Liam, their expressions darkening as they fixated on the Raider, waiting for more.

Zayn knew time was running out. Swiftly, he extracted the dagger, blood spraying in a grisly arc, and as the Raider's screams intensified, Zayn forced the dagger's handle into the man's mouth, muffling his cries.

With a subtle gesture, Zayn beckoned Harry forward. Approaching cautiously, Harry watched as Zayn retrieved a worn city map from his hand, spreading it out before the Raider. Blood dripped from Harry's chin as he leaned in, his eyes fixed intently on the Raider, whose gaze flickered nervously between Harry and Zayn.

"Mark it on the map," Zayn demanded, his patience wearing thin. "Don't lie to me."

The Raider, fear etched on his face, scanned Harry once more before nodding, his gaze returning to Zayn. Leaning forward for the map and using the blade, the Raider marked a spot as instructed.

Spitting out the dagger's handle, the Raider yelled in desperation, "It's right there!" The intensity of his cry reverberated in the room, ‘’I swear !”

Zayn pushed from the chair, letting it crash to the ground, and clutched the map as he moved toward the other Raider, who lay on the ground amidst a pool of blood, struggling to catch his breath. Just as Harry was about to follow, passing by the heavily breathing man still bound to the chair, something within him snapped.

His mind swirled with images of Louis trapped and alone, the haunting word "toy" reverberating like a broken record. The vivid scenes of Louis' battered and shivering form overwhelmed him, igniting a surge of fury. In a sudden, visceral response, Harry whirled back, locking his arms around the bound man's throat, squeezing with unrelenting force.

The man gasped and struggled, attempting to escape Harry's vice-like grip, but to no avail. Harry's determination intensified as he squeezed tighter, the sounds of the man's fading struggles filling the air. Zayn and Liam stood, shocked but not entirely surprised, witnessing the grim turn of events.

With an audible crack of bones, Harry forcefully twisted the man's head, releasing his grip and stepping back as the lifeless body slumped, still tethered to the fallen chair. Panting and trembling, Harry glanced at Zayn through dishevelled hair and furrowed brows, his gaze a mixture of exhaustion and a hint of defiance.

Zayn, unyielding and unmoved, diverted his attention to the other Raider, who sat against the wall, horror etched in his wide eyes at the sight of his fallen comrade. Zayn retrieved the baseball bat—a relic carried by Louis since the beginning, the same one responsible for Niall's lasting injury—letting it drag behind him on the floor as he walked, his expression vacant, hand stained with blood.

"Fuck you!" the remaining Raider screamed, tears mingling with blood on his face. "I won't tell you a damn thing!"

Zayn chuckled with a malicious tilt of his head. "It's fine," he sneered. Closing in, he loomed over the cowering man against the wall. "I believe him," Zayn's voice dripped with menace as he raised the bat, striking repeatedly with brutal force, the sickening sound of bones shattering mingling with the splatter of blood as a grim sense of finality enveloped the room.

When Zayn burst into the dorm room, his attire soaked in blood, Niall, Oli, and Luke jumped in shock. Niall, attempting to rise too swiftly, grasped the metal bunk bed stairs, wincing in pain.

"I'm alright," Zayn reassured with a faint smile, his visage marred by the stains. "Just need to clean up."

Harry and Liam followed suit, entering the room. Once inside, the group stood in disbelief, struggling to process the events that had unfolded. A heavy silence enveloped them as Liam, visibly drained, gazed at his friends.

"Let's rest," Liam's words carried a command rather than a suggestion. "First thing tomorrow, we leave…. And we go find Louis." His finality echoed through the room as he crushed the map within his clenched fist.

Within the confines of the hospital, time was an elusive concept. They had lost all track of its passage, relying only on subtle hints from the weather—fading leaves, frost-kissed landscapes—to mark the passing days.

Before seeking respite in sleep, Oli orchestrated the collection of cold water in basins, facilitating their attempts to cleanse their bloodied bodies with cloth, changing into the last remnants of clean clothing retrieved from their dwindling bags.

Sleep arrived fragmented and sombre. Harry wrestled with unseen adversaries in fitful slumber, while Liam, embracing Zayn tightly, remained in oblivious repose, his mind tirelessly strategizing for the imminent challenges ahead.

As dawn broke, a palpable heaviness lingered, mingling with their diminished appetites. Oli and Luke, donning masks and gloves, quietly navigated the corridors, gathering the clothing and weapons strewn by the Raiders. Bringing the haul back to their dorm room, they sorted through the items by size, discarding their own attire and adopting the navy cargo pants and khaki vests from the enemy's belongings.

They drained their final bottles of water, donned black face masks, and for Harry, a balaclava. Selecting from the usable weapons, Zayn opted for a bow, positioning it on his back and stashing arrows in his backpack. Each carried spare firearms, concealed within waistbands or trouser pockets. Liam secured a shotgun, meticulously checking and pocketing bullets.

Once equipped, they strode forth with purpose, descending to the hospital's ground floor. Negotiating the debris and lifeless bodies littering the corridors, they finally emerged from the building, greeted by the biting winter chill and the brilliant sun illuminating their determined faces.

Chapter 20: Beacon High School

Chapter Text

Louis awoke to a chilling cold, his head throbbing as he instinctively clasped both hands to his forehead. As he regained his senses, he realised he was confined in what appeared to be a basement. The window was frosted shut, the floor and his attire were grimy, with dried blood streaked across his face and beneath his nails.

Instinctively cautious, he meticulously scanned his body for any potential weapons, swiftly rising to his feet to assess the confines of his makeshift prison. Desperation fueled his attempts to break free; he relentlessly jostled the door, rattled the metal bars, and strained against the massive chains that bound the exit shut. Despite his efforts—shaking, elbowing, pacing, and pulling—the unyielding resistance of his confinement remained unchanged.

Grasping his spinning head, he gazed down at his soiled boots, breaths shallow and frantic. His mind raced, trying to piece together what had transpired—what had happened to Niall, to the others. Clenching his eyes shut, he sank to his knees, struggling to draw air into his lungs while he retraced every fragment of memory.

Recollection flooded in—how he helped Niall's escape, the desperate flight from the Raiders, using his speed to evade pursuit, sprinting until his feet felt raw. He vividly recalled the moment he stumbled, attempting a daring leap down a staircase in a bid for quicker concealment in the underground. But his efforts were thwarted by a huge metallic curtain, barring his passage. He screamed, pounded his fists, kicked with fervour, until an ominous figure seized him from behind, a vise-like grip constricting his throat until darkness enveloped his consciousness.

In a daze, Louis blinked away the threatening tears, straining to discern the faint sound of approaching footsteps. Slowly withdrawing his hands from his head, he allowed them to slide down his chest before settling on his thighs. His head snapped toward the corner of the basement as the distinct sound of heavy boots resonated through the air.

A looming figure emerged, prompting Louis to instinctively retreat further behind the bars, a surge of apprehension coursing through him. Observing the figure's attire—a pair of robust platform boots laced tightly around the ankles, military-style cargo pants, and an uncomfortably snug khaki henley shirt that exposed a bulging belly—Louis scrutinised the man. Two sizable hands carried a tray, eliciting a pang of hunger in Louis despite his wariness. However, when his gaze met the man's face, a frown creased Louis' brow.

"How are you feeling?" The stranger's inquiry carried an air of genuine concern.

"Amazing," Louis retorted icily, rising slowly to his feet, his unwavering gaze fixed on the man.

Approaching the door of the makeshift cage, the stranger stooped to slide the tray of food beneath the metallic door. Louis's lips parted as recollections surged back. The man sported a black eye patch, triggering a flurry of memories— the ambush back in the beginning, being forcefully pulled out the car and dragged, Harry fighting off the man, driving a shard of glass into his eye.

Attempting to conceal his shock and unease, Louis maintained a steely and unreadable expression, eyes fixed on the man as he stood a few feet away from the door.

"You should eat," the man's gravelly voice suggested, sending a shiver of disgust down Louis' spine. "You've been out for a day."

Louis tore his gaze away from the man only to analyse the tray's contents—an orange-red stew-like substance in a stainless bowl. Disgust wrinkled his nose at the sight, yet his attention lingered on the glass of water, his lips instinctively moistening. Unsure of his surroundings and the man's trustworthiness, he hesitated.

"You can trust me," the man asserted, like he knew exactly what was going on in his mind.

Meeting the man's gaze again, Louis scoffed, his voice tinged with defiance. "So now what?" His tone cracked slightly.

The man sighed, crossing his arms as he started studying Louis from head to toe. "I'm sorry for my men's actions when they found you. I wish it was under different circumstances."

"I don't believe you," Louis spat.

The man chuckled softly, seemingly amused by Louis's anger as he approached the bars once more. Conducting another visual inspection that made Louis squirm inwardly, he resisted showing fear, standing tall and unwavering.

"Please, tell me your name. It could help your case," the man implored, gesturing behind him.

Louis frowned. "Help with what?"

"To let you stay with us," the man replied matter-of-factly. "I've observed you. You're brave, loyal, and quick. We could use someone like you."

Louis's expression mirrored his incredulity. The situation dawned on him—the potential danger of refusal. The way the man's gaze wandered over his body hinted at ulterior motives. Glancing down, Louis spotted a set of keys dangling from the man's belt.

He needed to act, and he needed to do it quickly.

So, he shifted his demeanour, relaxing his shoulders and adopting a softer expression. Uncurling his eyes and allowing them to convey vulnerability, doe-eye like. Louis took a step closer, faking a coy mannerism, and licked his lips slowly. He noticed the man's immediate reaction—his gaze fixated on Louis's mouth as his hands gripped the metal bars.

He always knew, ever since he was a kid, that he could use his appearance to his advantage to get what he wanted from people, mostly for anything. This was a familiar act to him, one he'd used before in different circumstances. When the nightlife was filled with alcohol and neon lights and not fire and death. And it worked. The man seemed captivated, desire evident in his gaze, both of his hands coming to curl around the metal bars of the door.

Seizing the opportunity, Louis extended his hand slowly, tentatively, feigning shyness, as he brought his own hand on the stranger’s one.

Louis saw his chance. With a swift move, he seized the man's middle finger, applying pressure backward until he felt the bone give way.

The man howled in pain, attempting to wrench his arm free, but Louis held firm, simultaneously attempting to reach for the keys with his free hand. However, an unexpected grip on his wrist diverted his attention. Suddenly, he was violently pulled forward, his face meeting the unyielding metal door. The man continued to jerk him back and forth, causing excruciating pain as Louis's head and side collided with the door repeatedly.

Louis, wracked with agony, relinquished his grip, stumbling backward until he collapsed on the unforgiving ground.

"You slut!" The man's enraged scream pierced the air.

Blood pooled in Louis's swollen mouth, and he repeatedly licked his lips, attempting to alleviate the stinging sensation. He squeezed his eyes shut, a hand seeking solace for his rib, emitting pained groans. The man's moans echoed behind the doors, interspersed with his own agonised sounds. When Louis dared to raise his head, he witnessed the man clutching his chest, his hand visibly swollen.

"You're making it very difficult to keep you alive," the man hissed at Louis, his eyes ablaze with fury and resentment.

Louis shifted, moving to a seated position on the floor, propping himself up with one knee, his gaze fixed on the man. He panted heavily, chest rising and falling, but a faint smile crept across his lips.

"Louis," he stated calmly.

The man slowly turned, squinting at Louis, attempting to flex his fingers and grimacing in pain.’’What ?’’

"Tell them that Louis is the slut who broke your fucking finger!" Louis challenged.

Silence hung in the air, the man merely assessing Louis from a distance, his gaze exploring Louis's body, fixating once more on his thighs. With a sneer, he shot a frigid look at Louis before spitting out, "It's fine. I've been waiting for a new toy to play with anyway."

Leaving Louis with those chilling words, the man turned on his heel and strode toward what Louis assumed was the room's exit. "Goodnight, Louis," he called over his shoulder, leaving Louis alone and cold.

"Wakey, wakey."

Startled awake, he found himself jerked into a standing position as two pairs of hands clamped onto his biceps, yanking him upright and forcefully pulling him out of his cell.

His screams echoed, limbs thrashing wildly, attempting to clutch onto anything within reach. But his efforts were futile as they manhandled him, twisting his arms behind his back and restraining him firmly. The men propelled him forward, his feet barely grazing the ground.

In the frenzy, he didn't have a chance to survey his surroundings, to comprehend where this new place of captivity might be. The memory of being dragged up a flight of stairs was a blur, only crystallising when he found himself in a lengthy corridor painted in a yellowish hue, the sunlight piercing through the windows, dazzling his senses. Through those windows, he caught sight of the snow-covered landscape, the trees and roads blanketed in a delicate layer of white.

His heart hammered in his chest as they dragged him along, rendering him an insignificant, powerless figure. Desperately, he searched the men's eyes, hoping for a clue about what awaited him. Yet, all he found within their gazes was an overwhelming sense of dread and uncertainty.

The men dragged Louis through the seemingly endless corridor until they pushed him into a room. Struggling to maintain his balance and survey his surroundings, his arms were roughly seized again, eliciting a hiss of pain out of him. However, this time, he didn't resist as they brought a heavy, grimy metal chain, looping it around his wrist and securing it with a cumbersome lock.

As the men stepped back and vanished, Louis panted, his focus shifting to the room. A white desk adorned with drawings and graffiti stood atop a lectern, a chalkboard behind it. His gaze roamed, revealing scattered wooden chairs and small tables that littered the floor, lending the space an air of a dishevelled classroom or office.

"Hello, Louis." The familiar voice made him clench his jaw, fingers tightening involuntarily.

Turning, he faced the stout man with the black eyepatch, now stationed behind the desk. Louis studied the man's salt-and-pepper hair, creased countenance, and patchy beard. However, a small smile tugged at Louis's lips as he noticed the bandaged finger, a swell of pride and satisfaction blooming within him.

“How’s the finger?” Louis inquired with a nod of his chin, a tinge of malice in his tone.

The man offered no reply, circling the desk to position himself in front of it, leaning on its surface and crossing his arms over his ample stomach.

"How did you sleep?" he asked.

"What do you want?" Louis snapped, impatience edging his voice.

"I told you I needed a bit of entertainment."

"You're a sicko."

The man chuckled, his belly shaking with mirth as he rested one hand on his knee, a gesture that repulsed Louis. Once more, he felt the weight of being ridiculed, sensing the two Raiders standing sentry behind him.

"You're awfully quick to judge considering you and your friends killed… How many men?" The man insinuated, tilting his head mockingly.

Louis remained silent, jaw clenched and nostrils flaring in indignation.

"See? We're the same."

"You and your men attack people like me. You're monsters, killing people who are just trying to survive," Louis retorted sharply, his anger propelling him forward a step.

"Do you even know who you've befriended?"

Louis paused, lips parting and brow furrowing slightly at the implication. Before he could inquire further, an explosion reverberated outside the building, causing the walls and windows to quake.

The man leaped from the desk, rushing toward the window, as both Raiders and Louis scurried behind him, crouching low. Guns drawn, they aimed outside at the sporadic gunfire. Louis stared wide-eyed, swallowing hard and blinking rapidly. His mind processed the situation seconds later, darting a glance toward the room's door. With a deep breath, he closed his eyes.

As he opened his eyes, he lunged for the door.

"Catch him!" the command echoed behind him, spurring him to move even faster.

He threw his body against the door, practically running into the wall as it gave way under his weight. Pushing against the wall with his bonded hands, he bolted as quick as he can, rushing through the corridor.

As Louis tore through the corridors of the high school, the clanking of his heavy chains echoed, hindering his movements but not his determination. His heart pounded, adrenaline fueling his sprint as he dashed past classroom after classroom, frantically seeking an exit. Raiders in pursuit, their boots pounding against the tiled floors, surged forward, their shouts echoing through the corridors. Their footsteps thundered, closing in on Louis, who desperately sought ways to outmanoeuvre his captors despite his bound hands.

Ducking into a classroom, Louis scanned for a means of escape. With a sharp kick, he toppled a wooden desk, creating an obstacle for his pursuers. But his momentary advantage was short-lived as Raiders burst in, swerving around the fallen furniture, closing the gap. Louis bolted for the window, desperation fueling his actions. Having no choices, he used his elbow to shatter the glass, shards cascading outward and through the fabric of his sweater. He scrambled through the broken frame, heedless of the cuts lacerating his skin, and plummeted to the ground below.

The Raiders rushed to the shattered window, shouting orders to intercept Louis. Some scaled the windowsill, aiming to leap after him, while others dashed for the stairs, intent on cutting off his escape. Meanwhile, Louis, though battered and winded, stumbled to his feet and limped away.

As Louis hit the ground after his daring leap from the shattered window, pain seared through his wounded body. With gritted teeth, he scrambled to his feet, ignoring the shards of glass embedded in his skin, and hobbled through the courtyard, seeking refuge against the wall. Each step was agony, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he pressed himself against the wall, trying to blend into the shadows, hiding from the imminent danger. Suddenly, a gunshot pierced the air, the bullet grazing the wall just above his head.

Fear surged through him - they were no longer interested in capturing him alive; they aimed to kill.

With adrenaline coursing through his veins, Louis limped toward another building, perhaps the school's cafeteria. From a distance, he heard the chaos—gunshots, explosions—seemingly erupting from the school's front. His brow furrowed, hope flickering within him that it could be Harry and his friends engaging the Raiders in battle.

Struggling with his bonded hands, Louis used all his strength to hoist himself through a window, crashing loudly to the floor inside. He winced as the glass shards dug deeper into his already wounded skin. Despite the pain, urgency fueled him, and he hastily crawled away from the window and into the adjacent room.

In the silence of the room, Louis cautiously scoured the area, his heart pounding in his chest. With no sign of immediate danger, he focused on freeing his hands, feeling around for anything that could aid his escape. His fingertips brushed against a discarded tool—a rusty wrench.

Desperation driving him, he manoeuvred the wrench, working it between the chains and the lock, ignoring the pain as metal scraped against his skin. With painstaking effort and a surge of relief, the lock finally gave way, the chains falling from his wrists with a clatter.

‘’Fuck,’’ He moaned under his breath.

Leaning against the cold wall, Louis drew his knees to his chest, wrapping his freed wrists protectively around his body. The chill of the room seeped into his bones, his breath forming visible puffs of smoke in the frigid air. His teeth chattered uncontrollably, a reminder of the cold and hunger gnawing at him. He closed his eyes, his senses on high alert, listening intently for any hint of danger.

Taking a moment to steady himself, Louis rubbed his hands together, only then noticing the blood staining his skin where the chains had chafed him. With a grimace, he glanced around the kitchen, the stainless steel counters and gleaming utensils confirming his location. Shivering and wincing from the pain, he cautiously rose to his feet, keeping low as he scanned for anything edible, anything that could offer him sustenance and strength.

Another distant explosion sent shockwaves through the building, causing Louis to startle and inadvertently knock into a shelf brimming with pans and pots. He clamped a hand over his mouth, as if it could muffle the noise. Heart pounding, he waited in fearful anticipation, half-expecting Raiders to come charging in.

Yet, as moments passed in tense silence, no one arrived. The only useful weapon he found was a huge meat knife that he pulled out from its place on the shelf and grasped firmly in his hand. Tentatively, Louis limped away from the kitchen, inching toward the adjacent school restaurant. His steps were slow, deliberate, each movement a struggle against his aching body and the constant fear that hunted his every thought.

In the dimly lit school restaurant, Louis surveyed the vast space, an eerie quiet settling over the barricaded windows that created a haunting ambiance. He observed overturned tables, makeshift shelters in the disarray. Padding further into the room, he scrutinised possible escape routes, eyes scanning the high windows and the imposing double door.

With the wrench clutched in one hand and a meat knife in the other, Louis hobbled toward the door, determination etched on his face. As he approached, he grabbed hold of the chains, turning them over in his hands, contemplating how to break them free. He attempted to employ the wrench, as he had with the lock on his wrist, but this time, the metal remained stubbornly intact.

Undeterred, Louis shifted tactics, gripping the meat knife and manoeuvring the blade into the lock. He twisted and turned, the metal grinding against metal until, finally, a faint yet distinct 'click' resonated through the room, signalling success.

As the door swung open, Louis found himself face to face with a young, muscular man, the glint of a gun trained directly at him. Instinct kicked in, and with a surge of fear, Louis lunged, grasping desperately at the man's wrist, attempting to wrestle the weapon away. But his diminishing strength and numb, cold hands were no match for the assailant's vigour.

A fierce struggle ensued, the man overpowering Louis and forcing him back into the room. With a brutal headbutt, Louis was sent crashing to the floor, his face throbbing with pain as blood trickled from his nose. Groaning, he attempted to roll to his side, but the assailant seized him, violently wrenching him onto his back, the cold barrel of the gun pressed against Louis' forehead.

Louis' eyes widened in terror, his breath catching as he stared directly into the man's eyes. Despite the imminent danger, it was evident the assailant was also frightened, his trembling hands betraying his fear. Without hesitation, Louis clenched the handle of the meat knife and drove it forcefully into the man's chest.

The assailant staggered back, a look of shock and agony contorting his features. Using his feet to push the man away, Louis crawled away, seeing blood dripping from his nose as he hauled his body, hoping to reach the kitchen.

‘’You fucking faggot,’’ He heard behind him, that unfortunately familiar voice making him gasp.

Blinking through the dizziness and blurry vision caused by the blow to his face, Louis quickened his crawl, desperate to put distance between himself and the chaos. Managing to reach a wall, he used it to pull himself to his feet, the bloody knife still clutched tightly in his grasp. He turned abruptly, brandishing the knife in front of him as he confronted his enemy.

To his astonishment, Simon knelt before the now lifeless young Raider, cradling the limp neck in one hand. The man's chin quivered, and when he raised his eye, dark and lifeless, Louis felt his heart skip a beat.

"You killed my son," the words cut through the air like a chilling wind, freezing Louis in place.

Frozen in place, Louis stood, his gaze fixed on the man grappling with the loss of his son. The weight of guilt bore down on him, leaving him unable to muster any words or movement, the knife trembling in his hand.

As Simon released his son's body and rose from the ground, the sounds of gunfire grew nearer, disrupting the tense silence that hung between them. The man, now wielding a long machete, kept his distance from Louis.

"Do you know who I am?" His voice carried a mixture of grief and an underlying edge that hinted at something more ominous.

"How would I fucking know ?!" The uncertainty and fear were palpable in his words, his eyes darting between Simon, the weapon, and the lifeless figure on the ground.

Louis's heart raced, his muscles tense as he warily observed Simon's every move, the knife held defensively before him. His mind raced with scenarios of imminent danger, preparing for the worst outcome.

As Simon reached into his pocket, Louis's grip tightened on the knife, his eyes narrowing in anticipation. Yet, instead of a weapon, a small object flew from Simon's hand and landed at Louis's feet. Louis glanced down cautiously, wariness etched across his face as he weighed the risks of lowering his guard to retrieve the item.

With a hesitant gaze flickering between Simon and the shiny object on the ground, Louis hesitated, torn between readiness and curiosity. Simon's unmoving stance and gesturing insistence to pick up the object urged Louis to cautiously crouch down, keeping his back against the wall for support. He extended his trembling fingers, swiftly retrieving the object before straightening up in one fluid motion.

Hesitation gripped him as he held the item, his fingers trembling with a mixture of emotions. With a swallowed breath, Louis slowly opened his palm.

The weight of two dog tags felt like an anchor pulling him down into an abyss of betrayal.

Liam J Payne and Harry E Styles—the names etched onto those metallic pieces—represented a past that clashed violently with the reality he knew. Louis stood frozen, trying to comprehend, but the emotions flooding him were too overwhelming.

Simon's voice broke the heavy silence. "Did you know?" His laughter echoed in the room, a chilling undertone to his words. He played with the machete, swinging it, while outside, the chaos of gunfire and explosions continued.

"We used to be a family. I was their Major." Simon's words cut through Louis like a knife. "Harry and Liam were like my own sons. I guided them, shielded them," Simon choked up, his composure wavering between madness and sorrow. His movements jittery, neck twitching, eyes widening in repulsion as he fixed his gaze upon Louis. "We received orders a month before everything started. Kill anyone who tries to leave the country. Kill anyone who starts bleeding, coughing." Simon's voice was heavy with the weight of their past actions. "Mothers, children... anyone,"

Louis felt like crumbling, tears threatening at the corners of his eyes. "I..." His voice faltered, choked by a mix of disbelief and sorrow.

But he now understood how adept Harry and Liam were at survival—how to evade, defend, wield guns—yet Liam vehemently forbade Louis from handling one. Liam's home was a stockpile of necessities for survival; they were prepared, aware. Their quest to reach the survivors' camp sans military aid stemmed from their past ties to the group.

"And when the situation became unbearable for them, they simply deserted. I shielded them, tried to conceal it all to my superiors. And when things spiralled further, I reached out to a few contacts, arranged for the truck to get us and our families out of there!"

Simon's laughter turned dark and sinister. "But your friend, Harry." He pointed to his eyepatch with the blade of his machete. "As a military, we could've fled. When everything went to hell, Harry wanted to go back for his mom and sister."

Louis couldn't bear to listen, especially not from Simon's lips. His silent plea wished for a functional mouth to scream, to demand Simon cease his words, but he stood there, a mere semblance of himself, dog tags clenched in his fist.

"He took too long," Simon's voice cracked, his eyes filled with madness. "His sister was already in the fucking truck ! Everyone was ready to leave ! But he didn’t come back. So we went for him. Me, my son and the faggot. And Harry, always the hero," Simon sneered. "His mom was turning, and he just stood there, watching. Did nothing."

Louis clenched his fists, his heart aching at the image painted by Simon's cruel words. Memories of Harry, strong and protective, clashed with this devastating narrative. He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the painful truth unravelling before him.

His hands trembled, his whole being filled with a mix of anger and sorrow. "Stop it," he pleaded, his voice breaking.

But Simon's laughter grew guttural and piercing, the machete's tip still aimed at Louis, his face contorting into a menacing snarl, his voice descending into a deeper, icier tone.

"He stood there, watching as she tried to fight against it. He watched her when she fell in the kitchen and started to crawl for him. Begging for her son's help. And he watched that damned thing eat her brain, turning her into one of those monsters.”

Louis fought back tears, scanning desperately in all directions around Simon, searching for an escape, a way out. Pinned against the wall, he knew that without action, there would be no escape.

"So, I stepped in, with Liam. We called out to him, tried to pull him away, and pleaded for him to flee. But he didn’t want to leave his mother. This bitch would've died there. I grabbed my gun," Simon said, taking a menacing step toward Louis. "I was ready to put her down. Straight through the skull."

At that moment, Louis noticed it—a high, slightly broken window at the far end of the vast cafeteria. He could try for it, but he would have to jump and his body condition was starting to weaken. Instead, his eyes flew to the door that he had successfully opened minutes before. Outside, the cacophony of battle drew nearer—cars, gunfire, explosions, and screams. His gaze snapped back to Simon, realising the man was much closer than anticipated.

"But Liam shoved me aside, and together they fought me. My son tried to help me, but he was still inexperienced! It wasn't his fault," Simon chuckled manically, his neck twitching once more. "I don't know what happened next because those damn faggots knocked us out. When I woke up, the truck was gone, and so were they.’’

Caught off guard and not entirely attentive to him, Louis gasped as Simon seized his shoulders, the machete dangerously close to his face, grazing perilously close to his cheek, causing him to tense up.

"They abandoned me! Left me there, alone with my son!"

With limited options and sensing Simon's descent into complete madness and desperation, Louis instinctively seized him by the shoulders and drove his knee upward, aiming to strike Simon in the stomach. As Simon doubled over with a painful grunt, Louis pushed him away and bolted for freedom.

His hand reaching for the doorknob, hope of escape flickering, only to recoil several feet backward as an explosion erupted before him. Reacting swiftly, he shielded his face and pressed against a wall as the fiery burst from Simon's Molotov engulfed the area.

Helplessly, he witnessed the flames devouring the door, sealing off his exit.

"Nowhere to run now!" Simon's laughter echoed as he rose from the ground, retrieving his gun.

Gasping for breath, Louis darted behind a table, narrowly avoiding a gunshot that pierced the spot he had just vacated by mere seconds.

Then, the chase began, a twisted game of predator and prey.

Louis moved with calculated stealth, darting between tables, desperate to create distance while shrouded in the swirling mist. Simon prowled through the darkness, hunting for any trace of his elusive target. Every heartbeat thundered in his ears as he strained to remain soundless. He hugged the shadows, pressed against walls, and slipped back into the kitchen undetected. His lips curled into a smirk as he watched Simon scouring the room, overturning tables and skulking into corners.

Clutching the knife tightly, Louis emerged from the kitchen, newfound determination guiding his steps. He melded into the wall, stalking closer, until he was mere inches from Simon. With lightning speed, he rose and struck, plunging the blade into Simon's side.

Simon's anguished cry shattered the silence, prompting him to shove Louis away. Swiftly retreating into the cover of darkness, Louis stifled his own agony, pressing a blood-soaked hand against his mouth to stifle any betraying sound.

‘’You know… I really was about to let you live.’’ SImon said through his teeth, the sound of his footsteps moving away. ‘’But we should just end this.’’

Louis furrowed his brows, straining to discern any telltale sounds amid the chaos. He willed his racing heart to slow, the rush of adrenaline leaving his muscles numb. Sweat trickled down his face, a testament to both fear and the inferno raging by the door. Without warning, Simon hurled another Molotov, the explosion sending tables and chairs into oblivion. Louis stifled a groan, using the cacophony and flames as cover to sprint in the opposite direction, collapsing behind a wall, eyes squeezed shut against the searing pain.

Minutes crawled by, the room enveloped in the crackling symphony of fire.

In an instant, a looming shadow edged closer, and with a reckless surge of determination, Louis propelled himself from cover, hurtling towards Simon. Colliding with the man's back, he thrust his knife forward, aiming unyieldingly for Simon's chest. His grip on the blade remained resolute, even as Simon's piercing scream sliced through the air, momentarily shaking Louis's resolve. Each impact from Simon's efforts to shake him off drove Louis into the unforgiving wall, stealing his breath with each collision.

But Simon got hold of the knife as he slammed Louis back in the wall one last time, and reaching behind him, he plunged the blade into Louis’ arm, sliding it down his skin, slicing his skin open.

Despite Simon's force and the pain, Louis fought on, his resilience unwavering. The struggle intensified as Simon tried to dislodge him, seizing Louis's arms and wrenching forward in a desperate attempt to cast him aside. With a shuddering crash, Louis slammed into the unforgiving ground, the impact stealing the air from his lungs.

Nearby, Simon crumpled, his grasp tight on his bloody chest, consumed by agony.

The surrounding inferno raged on, casting twisted, flickering shadows in the chaos. Through blurred vision and searing pain, Louis laboriously rolled onto his front, determined to crawl closer to the glint of his discarded knife. Every movement was an agony-filled ordeal, his bloodied hands and clothes stark reminders of the fierce struggle. Gasping for air with each wheeze, Louis's determination remained unshakable as he fixated on reclaiming his only weapon.

Suddenly, Simon lunged, landing a devastating kick to Louis's stomach. Pain exploded, driving Louis to collapse face-first with a guttural cry.

"I knew you were feisty," Simon panted, blood dripping onto Louis' face. "You don't give up easily, huh?"

Ignoring Simon's words, Louis continued to crawl for his weapon, blood pooling in his mouth. Simon seized Louis by the ankle, dragging him backward as Louis desperately clutched at the floor.

Straddling Louis, Simon forced his face into the wet ground, his rank breath hissing near Louis' ear. "You can try begging," Simon sneered.

But amid the chaos—the roar of the fire, the distant gunfire, and the drumming of his own heart—Louis heard something unexpected. The unmistakable sound of a belt being unbuckled and a zipper being pulled down, causing Louis's eyes to widen in shock.

Suddenly, despite the agony coursing through his body, Louis became acutely aware of hands on his trousers. Thrashing and kicking with all his might, he unleashed a barrage of screams, determined to fight off his assailant. He bucked his hips, attempting to shove Simon away, and landed an elbow square on Simon's jaw.

"Enough!" Simon's enraged cry pierced the chaos. He seized Louis by the shoulders, violently wrenching him onto his back before straddling him once more and slamming his head against the unforgiving floor.

Louis closed his eyes when the first punch landed on his jaw, and the second near his eye, feeling his consciousness slip away with every strike. He groaned, attempting to squirm as Simon mercilessly tore at his trousers, struggling to fend off Simon's invasive hands.

"Do you think you're stronger than me?" Simon's voice thundered, punctuated by the sound of fabric giving away. Both of Simon's hands clamped around Louis's throat, cutting off his air supply with a relentless grip. "You have no idea of what I'm capable of."

The struggle intensified as Louis desperately clasped his hands around Simon's wrists, straining to pry them away. His legs flailed wildly, fighting against the assault, but gradually, a sense of darkness encroached. Black spots danced in his vision, and a chilling calmness settled over him as his heart began to falter, its beats growing slower and more distant.

]

Chapter 21: Revenge

Chapter Text

Harry and the boys trudged through the cold London streets blanketed in snow for an hour. Liam led the group, clutching the map tightly. Map that the Raiders had marked after Zayn gleaned information from them, directing the group to a high school near the train station. They'd arrive soon, fully prepared as they always were. Yet, this time, uncertainty loomed. They couldn't predict what awaited them—how many adversaries, their armament, or, most importantly, Louis's condition.

That haunting thought weighed heavily on all their minds, a gnawing fear that made them restless and apprehensive. Unspoken but deeply felt was a sliver of doubt—they all shared the same unvoiced concern that Louis might not be well, or worse, might not be alive. As the snow continued to layer the deserted roads, their footfalls softened, the hushed sound matching their determined strides towards their destination. They navigated effortlessly, as though this place held no secrets, their fearlessness born solely from their singular focus on Louis.

They reached their destination sooner than anticipated—the sprawling expanse of the university where Louis was being held captive. Moving with caution, they manoeuvred around the vast series of buildings, employing a mix of crouching, sprinting, and using the cover of white trees to avoid detection. Their teamwork was evident as they assisted one another in navigating obstacles, even improvising a ladder to help Niall pass beneath a portion of the fence that Harry had moved with his own strength.

Sneaking into the secondary school building, they prioritised the rear entrances, ensuring the entire area was devoid of any unwanted presence. Wasting no time, they swiftly ascended to the top floor. Once there, they huddled under the windows, arranging their bags in front of them, meticulously loading and preparing their weapons for what lay ahead.

Liam spreaded the map across the floor, gathering the group around it. Knowing Niall's injury limited his mobility, Harry assigned him the crucial task of providing sniper cover from the roof.

"Alright," Harry's voice whispered, the gravity of the situation evident in his tone. "Niall, you’ll be our eyes from above. Stay on that roof, keep an eye through the scope, and cover us.”

Niall nodded, his expression serious despite the pain in his body, as he removed the safety on his weapon.

Harry turned to Luke. "You are with me. We're going straight inside. Quiet and quick. No unnecessary risks. We find Louis and get out. And Oli, Zayn and Liam," Harry continued, his gaze shifting to the others. "You're our diversion. Draw attention away from us. Make some noise, but be careful. Keep them distracted while we move in."

The boys nodded, their jaws set with resolve.

"Remember," Harry emphasised, his eyes meeting each of theirs, "we're a team. Look out for each other. We've trained for this. Let's bring Louis home."

Harry guided Niall up to the rooftop, assisting him in positioning the sniper rifle against the wall, ensuring it was steady. He helped Niall settle into a prone position, then began explaining the intricacies of handling the rifle, leaving ample ammunition within Niall's reach for safety.

"See here," Harry gestured, adjusting the scope. "This is your zoom. Use it to focus on your target, but be mindful of your surroundings. You'll want to maintain situational awareness."

Niall listened intently, his gaze fixed on the rifle as Harry continued, "This is the safety. Keep it engaged until you're ready to shoot. And when you do, remember, take your time, aim steady, and exhale slowly as you squeeze the trigger. Don't rush it."

Niall looked up, eyebrows knitted together, a mix of curiosity and astonishment on his face. "How do you know all that?"

Harry paused, as if not registering Niall's question, his focus solely on the task at hand. "Hold your breath when you take the shot," he continued, his voice steady. "Keep your grip firm, hands steady."

"And the wind," Harry added, pointing towards the flags fluttering atop nearby buildings. "It can mess with your shot. Adjust for it. Small adjustments can make a big difference."

Niall glanced up at Harry, impressed. "You really know your stuff."

Harry managed a faint smile. "Use the Talkie if you need anything, see anything.’’

He patted Niall's shoulder reassuringly before heading toward the edge of the roof. As he looked back one last time, Harry's eyes conveyed a silent trust, a belief in Niall's ability to handle the responsibility placed upon him.

As the tension mounted, the boys completed their final weapon checks and adjusted their attire, ensuring every detail was in place. Tightening masks, securing hidden weaponry, and double-checking their gear, they transformed into a unified force, clad in the stolen navy outfits that would grant them an advantage in blending with the crowd.

Amidst these preparations, Zayn's gaze lingered on Liam and then Harry, a silent exchange passing between them. With a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder and a smile, Zayn moved toward the door. Before stepping out, Liam halted in front of Harry, lowering his mask. His eyes betrayed a mix of turmoil and concern, evident across his tense expression.

Harry met Liam's gaze, then glanced at Zayn, offering a knowing smile. "Hey," he said, drawing Liam's attention back to him. "I'll be fine."

Their eyes locked, conveying an unspoken understanding. Liam nodded, his gaze flickering to Zayn before he exhaled softly. "Yeah."

Almost bashfully, they bumped their fists together, and then Liam enveloped Harry in a hug, a silent plea evident in his embrace. "Don't you dare die on me," Liam murmured into Harry's ear before releasing him.

With a nod and a wrinkled nose, Harry watched as Liam joined Zayn outside, adjusting his mask. Oli, gun slung over his shoulder, joined them, and together, they began to move stealthily, crouching behind walls, edging closer toward the front gates of the school, their determination palpable in the snowy silence.

The atmosphere in the room shifted drastically as the boys departed, leaving Harry and Luke behind, a palpable tension settling between them. Their exchange of looks was fleeting, an unspoken discomfort hanging in the air. Each took a position by a window, scanning the surroundings, their eyes trained on the horizon, searching for any signs of imminent danger that could threaten their friends.

Feeling his pulse quicken with worry, Harry raised the talkie-walkie to his lips, pressing the button firmly. "Niall, do you hear me?"

A crackling interference preceded Niall's voice emanating from the device. "Yup."

"The guys are heading for the gates now. Keep a close eye on them," Harry relayed with urgency.

"Got you," Niall responded.

Harry released the button, his gaze fixated on the talkie for a moment longer before turning back to the window, his heart heavy with concern for his friends out in the unknown. Luke remained silent beside him, both consumed by worry, their unity in apprehension binding them in that tense moment.

Liam, Oli, and Zayn navigated the university grounds with calculated precision, crouching low and moving stealthily toward the front gates. They expertly crawled under a fence, inching closer to the road. Once outside, they sought cover behind a toppled school bus that obstructed the view, using it as a shield while they scanned the surroundings for any signs of movement or danger.

Zayn's voice crackled over the talkie, his report concise. "Harry, Niall, we've got eyes on them. Five men at the gates, armed. Three inside, guarding the main entrance. Waiting for your signal."

‘’I see you guys.’’ Niall's answer came first.

Harry's voice responded swiftly through the device, "Hold tight. We'll let you know when it's clear to move."

Liam exchanged a glance with Oli and Zayn, a silent understanding passing between them as they maintained their vigilant positions behind the bus, ready to spring into action once Harry gave the go-ahead.

Harry and Luke, disguised in Raider attire, moved cautiously through the school grounds, aiming to slip in through the rear of the building unnoticed. As they rounded a corner, they halted abruptly, pressing themselves against a wall as a lone Raider stood outside, engrossed in smoking.

Motioning for Luke to remain hidden, Harry handed him the talkie, his eyes signalling for silence. He adjusted his balaclava higher on his face, concealing his features, and slung the gun over his shoulder before slowly rising from his crouched position. Luke's eyes widened, watching Harry closely, unable to resist peeking as Harry moved forward.

"Hey, mate," Harry called out in a casual tone, approaching the Raider with a raised hand in a mock salute.’’Do you have a lighter ?”

The Raider glanced over, a cigarette dangling from his lips, and tossed the lighter to Harry without much thought, his attention fixed on his smoke. Harry mimicked rummaging through his pockets, feigning annoyance and grumbling softly to draw the man's attention.

As Harry pretended to search his pockets, deliberately dropping the lighter in the snow, the Raider bent down to retrieve it, unaware of the impending danger. Harry seized the opportunity, swiftly delivering a forceful knee to the Raider's face. Taking advantage of the momentary disorientation, he subdued the Raider, muffling any potential outcry with a firm hand clamped over the man's mouth.

Carefully manoeuvring, Harry dragged the Raider backward as he was strangling him, approaching Luke behind the wall. Together, they efficiently relieved the Raider of any weapons or ammunition before Harry motioned toward the back door, signalling their next move.

Plastered against either side of the door, Harry gestured for the talkie, which Luke promptly passed to him. Harry took a moment to steady himself, his breaths deliberate as he prepared to give the signal. Luke mirrored his composure, adjusting his grip on the gun, ready and focused.

Bringing the walkie-talkie to his lips, Harry pressed the button and whispered, "Zayn, Niall..." He paused, exchanging a significant glance with Luke. When Luke nodded in affirmation, Harry continued, "It's time."

As Niall lay prone on the rooftop, peering through the scope of the sniper rifle, a wave of responsibility crashed over him as soon as he heard Harry’s voice through the device. "Alright, Niall, you've got this," he muttered to himself, attempting to rally his confidence. "It's just aiming and shooting. How hard can it be?"

Fingers slightly trembling, he adjusted the scope, squinting one eye shut, and then the other, trying to get a clearer view. "Looks like a video game..." he joked to himself, attempting to lighten the weight of the situation. "Okay, focus. Protecting the lads is top priority," he reminded himself, eyes fixed on the scene below. "Keep it cool, Niall. You're like James Bond but with a bit more Irish charm."

As he peered down the scope, trying to spot Zayn, he couldn't help but muse, "Never thought they would trust me with doing sniper duty." A chuckle escaped him, a mix of nerves and disbelief at the unexpected turn of events.

"Come on, you've hit bullseyes on a dartboard, this can't be that different, right?" he encouraged himself, hoping his dart skills would somehow translate into sharpshooting proficiency.

Taking a deep breath, he steadied his grip, aligning the crosshairs with a distant target. "Here goes nothing," he muttered, fingers gently squeezing the trigger. The recoil caught him off guard, causing him to wince. "Okay, note to self: sniper rifles pack a punch," he quipped, readjusting his position and aiming again.

Once Zayn received the signal, Liam and Oli swiftly assumed their positions, strategically taking cover on opposite sides of the school bus. They hurled the Molotov cocktails, meticulously prepared by Niall, and promptly retreated behind the bus, wincing as the explosives reverberated in the air.

The eruption of the Molotov cocktails set off a chain reaction—first, the clatter of the gates being forced open followed by the piercing cries of startled men. Seizing the cover provided by the ensuing smoke and flames, they sprinted toward the sturdy front wall of the school, seeking refuge behind its protective barrier.

Amidst the chaos, more Raiders poured out, their movements accompanied by the unmistakable crack of the sniper’s bullets fired by Niall.

Meanwhile, Zayn, still sheltered behind the bus, readied his bow and arrow imbued with gunpowder and paper. With unwavering focus, he drew back the string, steadying his aim despite the obstructed view caused by the swirling smoke and the Raiders attempting to evade the unseen threat. Zayn tuned out the surrounding commotion, channelling his concentration solely on his target.

With a steadying breath and unwavering focus, he released the arrow. The fiery arrow whizzed through the smoke, finding its mark as it pierced through the window of a Raider's truck, igniting upon impact.

"Three," Zayn counted under his breath, crouching down behind the bus to reload his bow. "Two," he murmured, preparing to dash from cover to reunite with Liam. "One."

As Zayn sprinted from behind the bus toward Liam, the truck erupted into a deafening explosion, hurtling through the air before crashing onto the grounds, immediately engulfed in flames. Seizing the opportunity amidst the disarray.

Once the deafening explosions reverberated through the air, Harry and Luke bursted into the main building of the high school, adrenaline pumping through their veins. They were immediately met with chaos—Raiders scrambling to respond, their shouts echoing in the corridor.

In a swift and calculated move, Harry charged toward the first Raider, delivering a decisive blow with the butt of his gun, disorienting his opponent. Using the momentary confusion, Harry swiftly followed up with a forceful kick to the man's stomach before taking aim and firing, neutralising the threat.

As the second Raider lunged towards him, Harry shifted his gun to his shoulder, deftly evading a punch by side stepping to the right. Closing the gap, he aggressively manoeuvred, pushing the Raider against the wall in a struggle for dominance. Amidst their scuffle, a third Raider barged in, and with quick thinking, Harry seized the opportunity, using the man he was grappling with as a shield. In a decisive twist, the incoming Raider inadvertently fired at his own comrade, the bullet finding its target instead of Harry.

Meanwhile, Luke operated with ruthless efficiency, reacting instantaneously to the three Raiders charging down the stairs. Without hesitation or remorse, he opened fire, their bodies collapsing at the base of the stairs as he deftly avoided their falling forms.

Their synchronicity was evident as they moved in unison, covering each other's blind spots. Not knowing where to go in the building, they simply ran straight for the first corridors they saw, ready to fight anyone who would come to them.

Amidst the ongoing chaos, Liam and Oli were fiercely engaged in the ongoing skirmish, effectively thinning the Raiders' ranks with Niall's strategic support from the rooftop. Zayn, grappling with interference-laden sounds from the Talkie, seized the device, pressing it close to his ear amidst the barrage of bullets.

"I need—Niall! Use the sniper to find Louis!" Harry’s voice crackled through the chaos, prompting Zayn's frustration. He scanned the grounds, witnessing the aftermath of the intense battle, bodies strewn across the area with the truck billowing smoke and flames. Glancing at Liam and Oli engrossed in combat, he cursed under his breath.

"Oli! Cover me!" Zayn shouted, swiftly making his move. With focused determination, he dashed forward, bow steady on his shoulder, leaping over the fallen metal gates with agility. His speed was such that two Raiders, taken by surprise, could only gape before meeting their end at Liam and Oli's gunfire.

Undeterred, Zayn forged ahead, encountering a Raider attempting to impede his path. Swiftly drawing a dagger, he improvised, using a half-burning tire as a launchpad, springing himself forward with calculated precision. With a swift, gravity-defying leap, he collided with the Raider, both of them tumbling on the floor.

Amid their struggle, Zayn found himself grappling on the ground, locked in a deadly struggle with the Raider attempting to take his weapon away from him. Straining against the imminent threat, Zayn's arms trembled as he fought to keep the Raider at bay, their conflict escalating dangerously.

"Zayn!" Liam's urgent call pierced through the chaos, bullets striking perilously close.

Locked in the desperate struggle, Zayn strained to fend off the Raider, exerting every ounce of strength to resist the danger. Suddenly, a silent bullet whizzed past and struck the Raider squarely in the forehead, ending the confrontation in an instant.

Zayn's arms fell limply at his sides, panting heavily as a surge of fear coursed through him. His eyes clenched shut briefly, grappling with the intense emotions of the moment.

With a deep breath, he raised the Talkie to his mouth, pressing down on the button. "Thanks, Niall," he expressed with genuine gratitude before pushing himself up from the ground, sprinting to seek cover behind the now-smouldering car.

Soon, Oli and Liam sought refuge with him, thick plumes of black smoke offering some cover. Oli, caked in dirt and snow on his fiery red hair, crouched down, reloading his gun amidst panting breaths. However, Liam, fueled by concern, marched straight to Zayn, seizing the collar of his jacket and slamming him against the car.

"Never do that again!" Liam's voice thundered, Zayn staring back, wide-eyed and stunned. "Are you insane?"

"Guys!" Oli's calls went unheeded as Liam's grip tightened, his rage escalating.

"You could've been shot, you idiot!" Liam's fury reverberated, shaking Zayn with the intensity of his grasp.

"Guys!" Oli's urgent pleas finally diverted their attention, prompting them to flee before another Molotov cocktail reached them, threatening to decimate the car.

Exposed and with no cover, Zayn's worry increased with the silence on Harry's end. Meanwhile, a fresh batch of assailants emerged from the school entrance, their weapons aimed at the trio.

While Liam engaged in a close combat struggle to breach the building, Oli maintained a composed stance, tactfully providing cover fire. Frustrated by the malfunctioning Talkie, Zayn stowed it away, but his attention was swiftly drawn elsewhere as soon as he looked up.

Liam was struggling, a man pinning him from behind as another aimed to strike at his face. Zayn glanced at Oli, quick to see his difficulty in finding a clear shot, as the three men were moving too much, and he couldn’t risk hitting Liam.

Left with no choices, Zayn retrieved an arrow from his backpack, fingers instinctively seeking purchase on the familiar shaft. As he pulled it forth, the arrowhead gleamed, catching the light and the snow in a fleeting glint, reflecting his determined resolve.

With finesse, he deftly notched the arrow onto the taut string of his bow, the action executed with an almost seamless fluidity that surprised him. The bow, a slender yet formidable instrument, felt natural in his hands, its weight offering a reassuring sense of control amidst the frenetic energy of the battlefield.

In a moment of intense concentration, Zayn drew back the string, his muscles tensing as he brought the arrow to full tension. His movements were deliberate, each action calculated with precision, the feathered end of the arrow gently brushing against his cheek as he steadied his breath and focused his aim. Closing one eye to enhance his accuracy, Zayn's gaze fixated on the assailant holding Liam captive. His brow furrowed in a mix of determination and hesitation, jaw clenching and tongue poking out from concentration.

But at the last second, he saw the second man grabbing a knife, ready to bring it to Liam’s stomach as he was still struggling with the man holding him still from behind. Zayn’s hazel’s eyes glinted with worry and rage, and without a second thought he aimed with sharp clarity. The arrow soared, cutting through the air with silent determination. Its trajectory, a swift and purposeful arc, zeroed in on the assailant's hand, the arrowhead finding its mark with unerring accuracy. The abrupt impact forced the assailant to let go of the weapon, the knife clattering to the ground, sparing Liam from imminent harm.

Zayn's features softened momentarily, a mix of relief and concern etched on his face. Caught off guard, Liam turned to Zayn, locking eyes that conveyed a fleeting reassurance—a silent affirmation of their unspoken bond. Liam smiled at him, big and toothy smile, before he retaliated, like remembering where he was, and remembering he was still being grabbed by someone. He threw his head back, hitting the man square in the nose, and returned to the fight.

"Idiot," Zayn murmured with a smile, before he was forced to crouch to evade an incoming attack.

Harry and Luke had no ideas of how the fight was going on Liam and the boys' side.

For them, fatigue was crepting in, each passing moment adding to their exhaustion. To add to their misery, they were forced to separate when a colossal man wielding an axe charged towards Harry, causing him to sprint up the nearest staircase, leaving Luke behind.

As Harry dashed down a long corridor, the sounds of glass under his boots made him stop.

Spotting a broken window, fresh blood trickling onto the ground, mingling with shattered glass, he frowned deeply. Kneeling down, examining the telltale signs of a struggle—smudged bloodstains streaking across the snow-covered ground outside, he immediately thought of Louis, his heart missing a beat.

But before he could process the grim implications, heavy footsteps thundered behind him. Reacting swiftly, Harry stayed low, narrowly evading the axe swing that embedded the blade into the wall where his head had been seconds ago. Finding himself face-to-face with his attacker's front while the man struggled to free his weapon, Harry seized the opportunity.

With a burst of adrenaline, Harry delivered a huge punch to his crotch, using all his strength. But the man barely bugled, scanning Harry with a menacing glare.

Blow after blow landed on Harry, sending searing waves of pain through his body. In a desperate attempt to gain the upper hand, Harry fought back with every ounce of strength he could muster.

A vicious strike from the man sent Harry sprawling onto the ground, his back hitting the hard floor with a thud. Gasping for breath, Harry found himself on his back, the weight of the attacker pressing down on him. Ignoring the pain coursing through him, Harry managed to use his legs to push the man off momentarily, buying himself a precious moment to catch his breath.

Summoning every ounce of resilience, Harry surged forward again. Gritting his teeth, he used his thigh to tighten the grip around the assailant's neck, attempting to immobilise him. The veins in his neck bulged as he strained against the immense force of his opponent, each breath a struggle.

As the struggle intensified, he could hear the Talkie crackle to life, its transmission marred by interference and static. Amidst the chaos of the scuffle, Harry strained to make out the muffled voices, the words blending into an incomprehensible jumble. Despite the overwhelming cacophony, he strained to focus, his senses heightened by the urgency of the situation.

Fighting to maintain his grip on the assailant, Harry reached for the Talkie, his hand trembling with exertion and tension. Wrestling to keep the Raider at bay with one hand while tightening his hold with his legs, he strained to decipher the intermittent messages filtering through the crackling interference.

Niall’s voice, laden with urgency and conviction, pierced through the discordant sounds. "I... Louis! I've got eyes on Louis! He's... coming out... heading for the building... right in front... I can see him!"

The mere mention of Louis ignited a surge of hope within Harry, his voice laden with a blend of disbelief and fervour as he responded over the Talkie. "Niall, are you sure?!"

Zayn's voice followed, overlaid by the sounds of gunfire. "Did he just say Louis!?"

Through the static, Niall's voice struggled to maintain clarity, his urgency palpable. "I swear, lads... It's him... I'm not kidding... I saw him... He's... running straight... the building... right in front of me!"

A surge of determination coursed through Harry's veins. Summoning every ounce of strength and resolve, he intensified his effort, leveraging a powerful twist of his leg, forcing a loud groan from his throat and ending the struggle decisively breaking the Raider’s neck. "Keep an eye on him, Niall! We're on our way!"

"We'll get to him! Hang tight! Don’t move!" Zayn's assurance crackled through the Talkie amidst the persistent static, underscoring their unwavering commitment to their friend’s rescue.

As Harry bolted down the stairs, he lunged at a Raider attacking Luke, sending the assailant crashing into the adjacent room. "Niall found Louis! Move, now!" His urgent call echoed through the turmoil as he reached out to grab Luke's hand.

They sprinted toward the building indicated by Niall, their charge halting abruptly as Liam, Zayn, and Oli rushed towards them, mirroring the weariness and bloodstains that marked Harry and Luke. Standing a few strides from the building's main entrance, the group formed a battle-worn assembly. Each face bore the signs of a relentless struggle, etched with fatigue yet illuminated by an unyielding determination amidst the blood-stained clothing and war-torn bodies.

Concern etched Liam's face as he scanned the group. "Is everyone alright?"

Zayn, his torn shirt revealing a hint of crimson at his side, grimly nodded. "Just a scratch, I'm good."

Oli, wiping sweat from his brow, chimed in. "A minor nick on my arm, no big deal."

Their path forward was once again blocked by a surge of Raiders, an overwhelming obstacle they faced head-on. Armed and exhausted, they engaged in the fierce fray, gunfire erupting in the air as they fought valiantly, attempting to clear their passage.

Harry retrieved his gun swiftly, firing at the encroaching enemies with a singular focus on finding Louis. "We have to breach that door!"

As they battled against the relentless tide of adversaries, Niall remained perched atop the roof, his sniper rifle poised for precision strikes. Zayn, strategically positioned within their defensive line, unleashed a flurry of arrows with increasing accuracy and speed, each shot a testament to his growing prowess.

Harry suddenly had an idea as he glanced to the side of the building. A fleeting chance amidst the stumbling Raiders. Driven by an unyielding determination and heedless of his own safety, he dashed forward. Ducking and weaving past bullets, Harry disregarded the searing pain suddenly coursing through his arm, determined to push through in order to reach the back of the building.

"Wait, Harry!" Liam's urgent plea reverberated through the skirmish, but Harry, consumed by a singular resolve, pressed forward despite their cautionary cries. "You can't go alone!"

"Harry!" Zayn's voice cut through the din, an arrow whistling through the air, aimed at a Raider targeting Harry with a gun. "Harry!"

"I have to find him!" Harry's voice, resolute and unwavering, resonated with determination as he disregarded their pleas, vanishing.

"Harry, wait!" Liam's urgent plea resonated, but Harry, driven by unwavering resolve, pressed on.

Unguarded, the lone door at the building's rear bore a sizable bloody handprint on its knob. Harry, bracing himself against searing pain from his thigh to his foot, employed his gun to force the door open, gritting his teeth.

As soon as he entered, thick black smoke assaulted him, stinging his eyes and scratching his lungs, yet he pressed on. The room was a battleground, ablaze in several spots, tables and chairs strewn, adorned with blood splatters on the floor and walls.

Through the acrid haze, he dropped the gun.

He discerned Louis, face nearly blue, eyes bloodshot, limbs convulsing as massive hands throttled his neck. Harry's rapid scan captured the grisly scene: Louis' half-open trousers, blood-smeared face and hands, the horrendous sounds of his struggle for breath etching itself into Harry's memory forever.

Rage surged within him, a dark, tempestuous fury. There was no pause for thought—no hesitation. He lunged at the Raider atop Louis, wrenching the assailant away and launching him as forcefully as possible.

Louis, gasping for air, twisted on the floor, hands clawing at his own neck in an effort to breathe, his coughs resonating through the room.

Harry exploded with his own wrath when the man moaned in pain and turned from his flat on the floor posture to attempt and raise on his elbows, showing his face to him.

"You." Deep in his throat, he growled.

Enraged to the point of blindness, he walked right up to him, fell on top of him, and grabbed at the collar of his jacket, making his body arch out of the ground. He knocked him down with a thud after throwing him one punch after another.

Harry panted, his eyes black, but he did not move when the man beneath him burst out laughing. "Surprise,’’, Simon groaned in agony and spat blood on the nearby ground.

He didn’t expect Simon to do anything. So, the sudden attack caught him off guard, sending him crashing to the ground as Simon's kick landed squarely in his stomach. Groaning and winded, Harry struggled to rise, using a nearby table for support, clutching his ribs tightly as he regained his footing. He glanced up to find Simon already on his feet, wielding a machete, poised threateningly toward Harry.

The air grew thick with tension as Harry's narrowed gaze bore into Simon, every muscle poised for action. He had known Simon's ruthlessness, but this betrayal struck deeper than any blade.

"What the hell are you doing, Simon?" Harry's voice was a low growl, fixated on the man who once held authority over him.

Simon sneered, his grip on the knife tightening. "Just tying up loose ends, Styles. Had a little chat with our friend here," he gestured toward Louis, "and secrets have a way of getting out."

Harry's breath caught in his throat. The venomous words about Louis fueled a rage within him. The atmosphere felt stifling, each breath heavy with the weight of the confrontation. Harry's jaw clenched with restrained anger.

"You think you're owed something for what happened?" Harry's voice was dangerous, laced with a low edge.

Simon's smirk was cold and calculated. "I lost everything because of you. When chaos erupted, I had to adapt. Become someone new. Someone who survives."

Harry's eyes darted to Louis, struggling for breath on the floor, trying to crawl away from them, his fists clenched in frustration. "Louis has nothing to do with this," Harry snapped, his voice trembling with fury.

Simon's gaze turned disdainful. "Oh, please. He was just a toy, a distraction. You were always too soft for your own good. Just like you were for your mom."

Harry's knuckles whitened. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"I know enough," Simon retorted, the knife glinting. "None of that would have happened if you followed orders!"

“I couldn’t do it!” Harry yelled, raising his arm in a gesture of defiance. “You were all going mad, the power they gave us—it corrupted us!”

“It was orders!” Simon screamed back.

“And now!?” Harry took a step forward, his eyes intense. “Orders tell you to kill people just trying to survive!?”

“You risked our lives for your mother, and did nothing for her!” Simon laughed bitterly. “You created this! You forced me into this!”

A chill ran down Harry's spine as Simon's words sank in. The world he'd shielded was on the brink of exposure. "You're not leaving this room," Harry warned, his voice menacing.

Simon's smirk remained unyielding. "You can't stop this. You never could."

“We killed them all!” Harry interjected sharply, straightening his back, realising Simon's power over him was gone. “We'll keep fighting. But you’re not leaving.” He gestured toward Louis on the floor. “Not after what you did to him.”

"You're pathetic," Simon sneered, his gaze fixed on Louis. "You care about this feisty little thing? Always had a weakness for strays."

Harry's protective instincts surged. "Don't you dare talk about him like that," he growled, fury lacing his voice.

Simon chuckled darkly. "He's just baggage, Styles. A liability. You'll regret wasting your time on him."

"Louis is not your concern," Harry shot back, his voice unwavering. "You made your choice when you harmed him."

Simon's smirk widened, the knife glinting ominously. "I still hold the cards here, Styles."

“I told you you won’t leave this room.” Harry squared his shoulders, resolute. "You'll pay for every moment he suffered because of you."

Simon's laughter filled the room. "You're predictable, Styles. Always playing the hero, protecting the ones you care about. It'll be your downfall."

"Maybe," Harry conceded, his voice steady. "But I'll gladly bring you down with me."

A tense silence fell between them, the air thick with the impending clash. Harry's every muscle tensed, ready to lunge at Simon, to protect Louis at any cost.

The room erupted in a whirlwind of tension as Harry surged forward, his instincts propelling him into action. With a fierce determination, he lunged at Simon, their bodies colliding in a flurry of desperation and rage. Simon staggered backward, taken off guard by the sudden attack, his weapon clattering to the ground as they grappled, their bodies crashing into the floor in a chaotic tangle.

Both men fought tooth and nail, the room echoing with grunts and the scuffle of bodies against the floor. Simon fought back with a ferocity fueled by years of survival in harsh conditions, while Harry's resolve burned bright, fueled his rage and his anger.

Despite Simon's cunning and experience, Harry's determination and sheer willpower drove him forward. The struggle intensified, a clash of wills and strength, each refusing to yield. The fight raged on, neither willing to concede. But Harry surged, pushing through the haze of exhaustion. With a final burst of energy, he managed to overpower Simon, pinning him to the ground, their heavy breaths filling the tense silence.

Their eyes locked in a fierce standoff, a silent challenge passing between them. Harry's chest heaved with exertion, his grip unyielding as he held Simon down, the intensity in his gaze unwavering.

‘’I’ll say hello to your mom.’’ Was the last thing Simon said, before Harry punched the smirk out of his face, until his knuckles broke and blood splattered across his face, witnessing Simon's face grow increasingly unrecognisable.

Lost in the whirlwind of his own fury, he was jolted back by the desperate gasps echoing behind him. Halting abruptly, his entire frame quivered, eyes wide as he reluctantly withdrew his hands from the now motionless figure. The sight of blood staining his skin, melding with his own, was a stark realisation as he finally registered the coughs and pained moans in the distance.

Breath surged back into his lungs, propelling him toward where Louis struggled to crawl, fighting for air amidst convulsions.

"Louis," he moaned, collapsing to his knees and reaching for the smaller figure, wanting to help him up and face him.

But Louis resisted, shoving him away, thrashing and attempting to scream, battling an unseen adversary as he struck at his chest, tears and blood streaming down his face.

"Louis!" he cried, trying to restrain him, clutching his wrists, but Louis was beyond recognition, lost in agony and fear. "Lou, it's me! It's me!" Harry closed his eyes when Louis slapped him, finally seizing his wrists, bringing them to his chest. "It's Harry!"

Louis gradually stilled, blinking through tear-streaked eyes, his trembling figure shivering from the cold, his wrists seeming even frailer. Harry's heart ached, a tight knot in his chest. Slowly releasing Louis's wrists as he pulled them away, Harry could only watch, waiting for some sign.

"It's me..." Harry murmured, his lips trembling, longing to pull Louis close and escape this place.

Tentatively, Louis raised a hand to Harry's face, trembling and hesitant. His fingertips grazed Harry's cheek, his lips moving as if to speak, but only a strangled, broken sound emerged. Then, he flung himself into Harry's arms, clutching him so tightly that Harry almost struggled to breathe. Yet, he wrapped his arms around Louis, holding him close, swaying back and forth, tears welling in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered in his ear, "I'm here, I'm sorry."

The encroaching flames and swirling smoke served as a constant reminder of the looming danger beyond their shelter. Harry's attention shifted to Louis' condition as he held him close. With Louis in his arms, he fumbled for the walkie-talkie in his pocket, urgently raising it to his lips.

"Niall! Liam! I've got him! We need a car, anything!" He released the button, his impatience evident. "Guys! We need a car!"

Crackling from the device responded, "Okay! I'm on it!" Niall's voice rushed through, accompanied by the sounds of hurried footsteps and fumbling movements.

Despite the dwindling gunfire outside, Harry remained on edge, mindful of the danger. Concerned about the smoke's impact on Louis' breathing, he attempted to pull away, but Louis whimpered, clutching at Harry's shoulders.

"Alright, alright," Harry reassured him. Shedding his jacket without regard for the cold or his own discomfort, he draped it around Louis' shoulders before embracing him once more. With Louis securely wrapped around him, Harry rose from the ground. "I'm getting you out of here."

The first step brought a pained groan out of him, but Harry pushed through, holding onto Louis tightly, navigating through debris and fire, determined to reach safety outside. Racing toward the group of boys, Harry's pulse quickened at the sight of another truck of Raiders closing in on them across the school grounds.

Simultaneously, a horn blared from the opposite side of the building. Niall sat behind the wheel of their military truck, repeatedly sounding the horn to draw attention.

"Luke! Oli! Cover me!" Harry's shout pierced the chaos as he sprinted for the car, Louis cradled in his arms.

With Oli and Luke providing cover, and Zayn and Liam fending off the approaching Raiders, Harry swiftly reached the car, wrenching open the back door and ushering Louis inside.

As gently as possible, he settled Louis onto the seat, draping the jacket over him to shield him from the cold. With Louis secured in the car, Harry paused to study his exhausted, bloodied face, his heart aching at the sight of the angry marks on his neck. Slowly brushing Louis' hair away from his eyes, Harry smiled as Louis weakly turned to look at him.

"You're safe now, I've got you," Harry assured him.

His brow furrowed when he sensed Louis' hand reaching behind him. Waiting for Louis to speak, he was stunned when Louis swiftly retrieved the hidden gun tucked beneath his waistband and shot at an approaching Raider behind Harry’s back.

Louis's arm fell back onto the seat, and Harry swiftly took the gun from him. He chuckled softly, a mix of fondness and longing, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on Louis' lips.

"Stay awake," he murmured against Louis' mouth.

The slamming of the car door reverberated in the wintry air as Harry locked it, swiftly charging his gun before sprinting back toward his friends to confront the final assailants. Zayn's arrow punctured the tire of the oncoming truck, sending it careening erratically, barely dodging a collision with a tree as another vehicle emerged unexpectedly.

"Get in the car !" Harry's urgent command sliced through the chaos as he aimed at the first Raider descending from the vehicle.

With the enemy numbers swelling, Harry sensed their dwindling ammunition and the relentless snowfall further complicating their struggle. Their shots rang out, creating a path as they slowly retreated towards the car.

Abruptly, the distinct crack of a sniper bullet tore through the air, and Liam crumpled to the ground in an instant.

"Liam!" Zayn's anguished cry echoed, propelling him from his sheltered position as he sprinted toward Liam's fallen body, shielded by Niall's covering fire while kneeling beside the car.

Turning Liam over, Zayn's eyes widened at the blood gushing from his shoulder. "No, Liam," he murmured, pressing his hand against the wound, but the advancing Raiders demanded his immediate attention.

Summoning his last arrow, Zayn drew his bow, holding his breath against the pounding of his heart and the biting cold. He released the arrow, hitting his target squarely in the neck.

"Let's go! Now !" Harry's authoritative voice cut through the turmoil as he positioned himself in front of Zayn and Liam. Oli dashed over, aiding Zayn in lifting Liam's body and guiding him toward the car.

Retreating backward, Luke and Harry continued firing at the encroaching enemies while Niall returned behind the wheel. In a blur of movement, they all reached the car, and Niall slammed his foot on the accelerator, propelling the truck forward through the snow, the engine roaring in defiance.

Inside the vehicle, Harry relinquished his weapons, reaching for Louis. He grasped Louis' neck, pulling him close. "Lou, come on," he urged, shaking his cold form in hopes of a response.

But Louis remained unresponsive, his body limp, and eyes shut tight as they finally left the school grounds.

Harry's desperate plea died on his lips as he surveyed the scene around him. His friends, once formidable and unwavering, were now battered and broken, each grappling with their own wounds and pain.

Luke, usually composed, now cradled his head in anguish, the weight of the ordeal evident in the lines of his face. Oli, with a determined yet strained expression, applied pressure to his shoulder, his own visage streaked with grime and dirt.

The sight of Zayn cradling Liam tore at Harry's heart. Liam, pale and bloodied, leaned against Zayn, who staunchly held him close. Blood seeped through Zayn's fingers as he applied pressure to Liam's wounds.

Locking eyes with Zayn, Harry saw his own fears reflected. They were both on the edge, struggling to hold on to hope, clinging to the possibility of reaching safety. Their gazes, red and teary, conveyed a silent plea, a shared desperation.

With a silent prayer on their lips, Harry and Zayn clung to the fragile thread of hope, hoping against hope that their futures would hold on until they found refuge and safety.

Chapter 22: Watford

Chapter Text

As the truck sped away from the chaos of King's Cross, Niall's foot pressed down hard on the accelerator, urging the vehicle to push its limits, leaving behind a trail of dust and debris. The engine roared, carrying them further from danger, yet the heaviness of the moment hung thick in the air. Their victory in rescuing Louis felt hollow amidst the wounds, the exhaustion, and the shock of what they had just endured.

His hands trembled on the wheel, his knuckles white, the gravity of the situation weighing on him. Inside the truck, the air was thick with a cocktail of emotions—shock, fear, and a bone-deep weariness. Each of them bore the marks of the battle; wounds adorned their bodies like grim trophies, their faces etched with exhaustion and desperation.

Harry and Zayn sat behind him, their faces etched with concern. Liam and Louis, their bodies limp and bloodied, were cradled in their arms like fragile relics, the only solace being the shallow but steady rise and fall of their chests. The journey had taken its toll on all of them—starved, cold, and battered by the brutality of their world. But among the quiet desperation, a flicker of determination burned within them. They had survived this far, and they would continue to fight for every breath, for each other.

Watford loomed ahead, a flicker of relief mixing with apprehension. The city, once bustling, now lay in eerie stillness. Niall eased his foot off the accelerator, guiding the truck cautiously through the desolate streets. Each turn, each shaded corner, held the potential threat of infected or lingering raiders.

Niall manoeuvred the truck with care, navigating the streets as they approached a safe haven, or at least what they hoped would offer respite. Their journey was far from over, but for now, they clung to the glimmer of sanctuary that Watford promised, hoping it would offer a momentary reprieve. Each bump on the road felt like a seismic jolt, threatening to unravel their fragile hold on composure. Niall's breaths came in ragged intervals, his gaze darting between the road ahead and the rearview mirror, wary of any pursuit.

In their desperate circumstances, choosing their refuge was a luxury they couldn't afford. Niall drove until he stumbled upon a relatively serene, less ravaged driveway, the row of houses nearby offering a potential hiding spot. Carefully parking the truck, they emerged slowly, their bodies screaming in protest at the strains of their recent ordeal. Harry, clad only in a thin black shirt as his jacket swathed Louis, nearly crumpled at the first step, saved from a fall by Luke's swift grip around his waist.

"Easy there," Luke murmured, lending support. "You alright?"

"I'm fine," Harry gritted through clenched teeth, accepting the unspoken assistance without resistance.

While Oli helped Zayn in carrying Liam, they followed Niall toward the townhouse they earmarked as their temporary sanctuary. It only took Niall a couple of seconds to remove the wooden planks barring the door, and deft precision, he forced the lock open. The heavy door groaned, and Niall paused, listening for any sounds within. Silence greeted them, the chilly morning breeze gusting in as Niall ushered the group inside.

"I'll check upstairs, you guys stay put," Niall directed, making his way with a slight limp, drawing a small gun from his back as a precaution.

Luke and Oli assisted Harry and Zayn onto the sofa, the weight of exhaustion almost too much to bear.

"We need meds," Harry muttered, feeling his thoughts grow fuzzy and his tongue heavy. "And ammo. We'll need more."

Oli and Luke exchanged concerned glances. As Harry adjusted Louis on his lap, Oli gasped.

"God, Harry, you've been shot?!" His eyes widened, spotting a bloody wound. Zayn whipped his head around to see.

"Fucking hell, H." Zayn breathed.

"I'm alright, it's nothing," Harry insisted, though he felt his eyelids grow heavier and his grip on Louis weakening.

Niall hurried down the stairs, a surge of relief coursing through him at the assurance of safety. However, the elation faltered as he caught sight of the drawn expressions etched on the others' faces.

"What's happening?"

"Is it safe?" Luke's urgency matched his expression. "We need to lay them down, now!"

Pooling their efforts, the boys rallied together, assisting Zayn and Harry upstairs, gently placing Louis and Liam onto the beds. Yet, the moment they settled them, Harry's strength faltered, his body swaying dangerously backward until Niall rushed to bear his weight, struggling to support him.

"Hey! Hey, H?" Niall called urgently, turning to catch Harry's fading expression, concern etched on his face.

"I'm— I'm okay," Harry whispered weakly, unable to support himself.

"Okay, guys," Zayn took charge, shedding his jacket and sweatshirt, revealing a tank top, marked with scratches and wounds on his arms and hands. "Lay him down!" His command echoed in the stillness, prompting action when hesitation lingered. "Oli, find some water and search for any meds or supplies. Luke, I need—"

Zayn paused, watching over the unconscious trio of Liam, Louis, and Harry, blood tainting their skin and rending their clothes. He paced, nerves taut in his voice. "I need you to help me with Harry first."

Kneeling beside Harry, Luke mirrored Zayn's panic-stricken expression, shedding his own clothing as Zayn worked on removing Harry's trousers. A grimace crossed Zayn's face as he uncovered the bullet wound on Harry's thigh. Niall and Oli rushed back into the room, towels, water, and a box of meds in hand, uncertain of where to begin.

"What are we doing?" Luke asked, his voice tinged with apprehension.

"We need to extract the bullet," Zayn replied, his tone determined.

Hours later, the weight of their efforts etched on their faces, Zayn and Oli emerged from the room, their hands stained with blood, their pallor stark against the fading light. They'd tended to, mended, and cared for the three still-unconscious boys, their fatigue evident in every line on their faces.

Downstairs in the living room, Luke and Niall had gathered what remained of their bags and weapons, the remnants arranged near the door. Niall tended to a wound on Luke's chin, gently wiping away the blood as their attention snapped to Zayn and Oli's entrance. Their gazes fixated on the blood-stained hands, noting Zayn's trembling grip, their conversation trailing off into silence.

Zayn seemed lost in his own world as he made his way, his steps faltering, and slumped onto the sofa, his gaze fixated on a point ahead, his blinking rapid and erratic. Slowly, Niall approached him, taking a seat on the coffee table in front, attempting to meet Zayn's distant gaze.

"Hey," Niall's voice was soft, careful. He used the cloth he'd used on Luke to gingerly grasp Zayn's wrist, silently beginning to cleanse him of the blood. "We should all rest... The place is safe, it'll be alright."

Hours later, a subtle change rippled through the room as Liam stirred, breaking the stillness of sleep. As his eyes fluttered open, a groan escaping his lips, he grappled with the disorientation that greeted him upon waking. Attempting to shift on the bed, Liam's senses slowly pieced together the fragments of his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was the snug bandage wrapped around his shoulder. Raising his head from the pillow, his gaze fell upon Zayn's dark hair, who was sitting on a chair brought close to Liam's bed, his head resting on the edge of the mattress, hands intertwined with him, asleep.

Liam gingerly raised his injured arm, wincing at the discomfort, his fingers gently grazing Zayn's hair. In response to the movement, Zayn stirred, emitting a low groan as he slowly raised his head in surprise. The realisation dawned on Liam, and a soft smile played on his lips as he observed Zayn's startled expression.

As their eyes met, Zayn’s hazel ones widened, an instinctual urge surged within him. Without a second thought, he lunged forward, wrapping Liam in a tight embrace. The sudden movement elicited a pained moan from Liam.

"Sorry," Zayn whispered, pulling away with a hand to his lips in remorse.

‘’Come here.’’ Liam chuckled and, despite the pain, gently pulled Zayn back against his chest, relishing in the connection.

Letting go of any semblance of disinterest, Zayn climbed onto the bed, shuffling under the covers. He positioned himself on Liam's non-injured side, hugging close, finding solace in the warmth of their shared presence. Zayn, finally at ease, succumbed to the embrace of a deep and restful slumber.

In the shroud of darkness, Harry jolted awake with a sharp gasp, disoriented and surrounded by cold shadows. Sheets pooled at his chest as his frantic gaze darted around the unfamiliar room. He noticed Niall asleep on a single bed close to the window and at that, he let out a sigh of relief. Groaning as he attempted to rise from the small mattress, he found his bare legs beneath thin sheets, his attention drawn to the thick white cloth tied tightly around his skin, faint stains of blood marring its surface.

Despite the pain, he pushed himself up, stifling a moan with a clenched fist. Limping, he searched for his trousers, eventually finding them in his backpack resting on the wooden floor. Struggling to dress, he pulled on his hoodie, leaving the hood to obscure his face as he laboriously made his way out of the room.

His mouth dry and head throbbing, he navigated the narrow corridor until he reached the door that led to the room where he'd left Louis before succumbing to unconsciousness. Gritting his teeth against the intensified pain in his thigh with each step, he pushed the door open, finding Zayn and Liam nestled together on one bed. Until his eyes found Louis’ bed.

Hovering above, Harry observed Louis' fragile form, wounds and bandages shrouding his frame, a portrait of exhaustion.

Slowly sinking onto the bed, he brushed Louis' hair away from his eyes. The sight tugged at his heartstrings, a deep ache settling within him as he gazed upon Louis, yearning for the chance to see those blue eyes and hear his voice again. A wet chuckle escaped him as he withdrew his hand, running it through his own tousled hair.

As Harry sat there, a wet chuckle escaped him as he withdrew his hand, running it through his own tousled hair as a wave of profound realisation crashed over him. The ache in his chest wasn't just worry; it was the ache of affection, of an inexplicable yearning to protect and cherish Louis beyond the boundaries of friendship. The mere thought of losing him created an abyss of despair within Harry, a depth he hadn't comprehended until now.

He let out a shaky breath, allowing the realisation to settle in, "Shit," he muttered under his breath.

Making his way down the stairs as quietly as he could, he cradled his bruised ribs, wincing with each movement. Passing through the living room, he spotted Luke asleep on the sofa, his figure bathed in the faint light filtering through the room. Unexpectedly, he found Oli in the kitchen, standing in front of a slightly open window, letting the smoke of his cigarette fly away. At the sound of the door, Oli turned, his reddened eyes and puffy face evidence of recent tears. Feeling a sense of unease, Harry hesitated before slowly entering the room. Oli, sensing his discomfort, wordlessly pushed a small bowl filled with nuts and a bottle of water toward him. Taking the water, Harry drained half of it in a single gulp, suppressing a wince as his ribs protested, his hand instinctively returning to nurse the soreness.

After a moment of silence, Harry gathered his thoughts, attempting to ease the palpable tension.

"You okay?" Harry's voice was soft, filled with concern.

Oli's gaze remained downcast, a quiet nod signalling his response.

‘’Sorry,’’ He chuckled shyly, ‘’Stupid question.’’ He cleared his throat, scrunching his nose up, "Y'know," he began, fiddling with the small bottle of water in his hand, shuffling a bit on his feet, "When I first met him, he kinda forced me to save him, actually."

Oli's chuckle, accompanied by a cough from the smoke caught in his throat, broke the solemn air. He glanced at Harry, emotions flickering in his eyes, a hint of a smile finally gracing his face.

Returning the smile, albeit a shy and awkward one, Harry continued, "He threatened me. Gave me no choice. Then, he tried to steal my weapons and my car. Called me Harold for a week."

The smile on Oli's face slowly faded, tears welling up again in his eyes as he dropped his cigarette into the sink with a sigh. Harry followed suit, his own smile disappearing as they both stood, somewhat distant, gazing at the counter before them.

Then, Oli spoke, "He told me you look like a frog, and that Harold was a good name for a frog.’’

Silence lingered briefly, Harry's shocked expression meeting Oli's teasing gaze, before both burst into laughter. Harry bent over in amusement but winced as the pain shot through his muscles, Oli clapping his hands between chuckles.

After their laughter subsided, a lighter atmosphere lingered. Harry turned to Oli, placing a hand on his shoulder, giving a slight squeeze. "If someone's going to survive among us, it's him."

Oli nodded, a tight-lipped smile on his face, reciprocating the gesture by squeezing Harry's wrist in return.

The living room became a makeshift hub of activity as the hours passed. Oli, Harry, and a now awake Luke sat in hushed conversation, their voices soft against the backdrop of lingering worry for their still-unconscious friends. The air held a slight lift in spirits after some much-needed rest, but the concern for Liam and Louis weighed heavily on them all.

Luke took charge, a determination in his eyes as he scoured the house from top to bottom, a distraction from the tension that loomed. Meanwhile, Oli joined him in exploring the basement, seeking any signs of restoring electricity or water to the house.

The unsaid lingered between them—a shared understanding of the weight of their recent actions, the price they paid to rescue their friends. Harry observed the telltale signs of strain etched on their faces—the constant tremor in Oli’s fingers, Luke's sensitivity to loud noises. But they didn't address it, didn't vocalise the heaviness that burdened them. Instead, they focused on making the house as accommodating as possible, their attempts to create comfort a feeble attempt to dispel the pervasive sense of unease that lingered in their minds, the absence of sleep leaving behind shadows of dark thoughts.

In the candle lit kitchen, where Niall had joined them, fatigue evident in the lines etched on their faces, they gathered what little sustenance they could find for a makeshift breakfast.

As they busied themselves, the stairs groaned and creaked, causing a collective halt in their movements. Heads turned toward the entryway, where Zayn materialised, his hand intertwined with another figure's. Moments later, Liam's form emerged, slightly hunched and moving gingerly, yet a welcomed sight that prompted a silent exhale from Harry, a relief he hadn't realised he was holding in.

Genuine smiles spread across their faces at the sight of Liam awake, albeit his pale complexion and the bandages adorning his bare chest. Harry instinctively moved toward him, a mix of concern and joy evident in his expression. Zayn let go of him in order to welcome Niall in his arms, his own smile warm. Harry's arms enveloped Liam, offering comfort and support, while Liam's posture, despite his injuries, conveyed a sense of gratitude and relief. With eyes closed, they held on, the embrace expressing a multitude of emotions—gratitude for being together and relief at seeing each other awake and alive.

When they pulled away, Oli swiftly directed Liam to take a seat at the kitchen table, gathering cereal bars, nuts, crackers, and water, placing them within his reach. The relief in the room was palpable as Liam, despite his weakened state, managed a small smile, gratitude shining in his eyes as he accepted the provisions.

"Good to see you up, mate," Niall said as he sat next to him.

"Yeah, we were getting worried," Luke added.

Zayn, standing beside Liam, offered a reassuring smile to the group. "He's a tough one," Zayn said with a nod toward Liam. "Couldn't keep him down for too long."

Harry hovered close, his gaze fixed on Liam. "You scared the shit out of me, you know," he said with a mixture of relief and a trace of a smile.

Liam's eyes softened as he took in the concern etched on his friends' faces. "Sorry about that," he said weakly, managing a small chuckle. "Didn't mean to cause a ruckus."

"We need to search the area for supplies—food, clothes," Luke's voice rang with urgency. "With everyone's condition and Louis still out, we've got to gather enough to lay low here."

"I'll come with you," Harry chimed in immediately.

“H,” Zayn interjected with a sigh, "You should—"

“I'm going with him.” Harry cut Zayn off firmly. “If there’s anyone or anything out there, Luke and I are the only ones fit enough to handle it.”

“Harry, maybe you should take a moment to rest. I can go,” Niall offered tentatively.

But Harry was resolute. He pushed away from the cupboard he leaned on, rolling up his sleeves determinedly. “I'll go check on Louis first. We’ll head out once I'm done."

There was no verbal response, but concern and frustration reflected on their faces at Harry's stubbornness. And as he moved past Liam to exit the room, Zayn called after him, "I'll check your bandage before you go!"

Harry stood before the closed bedroom door, hand trembling slightly as it hovered over the doorknob. He closed his eyes briefly, inhaling deeply to steady himself, before pushing the door open with a resigned sigh.

Louis lay on the bed, still unconscious. The bruises on his body and face hadn't faded; if anything, they seemed more pronounced, especially the dark, purplish marks on his throat, vivid remnants of the choking grip that had nearly claimed his life. A surge of anger bubbled within Harry, his lips twitching with restrained frustration. He bit down on his tongue, swallowing the emotional turmoil that threatened to consume him.

Determined to ease some of the darkness in the room, he removed the plank blocking the window, allowing a gentle stream of morning light to filter in.

Sitting by Louis' side, Harry observed his unconscious body. But the sight of dried blood on Louis' body stirred Harry into action. With meticulous care, he manoeuvred Louis out of the bed, cradling him like precious cargo as he made his way toward the bathroom. The weight of Louis in his arms felt heavier than Harry had anticipated.

In the bathroom, he adjusted the water temperature, ensuring it was warm enough. As he undressed Louis, a metallic clink echoed as a dog tag bearing his and Liam's names fell to the floor. The realisation that Louis knew about him, about them, stung Harry, filling him with a sense of remorse and sadness. But pushing all those thoughts away, he held Louis upright and guided his inert form under the stream, careful not to let the water pressure hurt him. With a tender touch, Harry cleansed the blood from Louis' body, gingerly attending to each wound and cut, his heart heavy with worry.

As Harry finished tending to Louis' wounds and settled him back into bed, he glanced hesitantly towards the door before sliding under the covers beside him. With utmost care, he slid his arm under Louis' neck, cradling his head against his chest.

In the quiet of the room, feeling the faint rhythm of Louis' shallow breath against his neck, Harry's mind raced through their journey. With closed eyes and his head against the wall, his fingers softly brushed through Louis' damp hair. Memories flooded back, from the very start—their initial meeting, the tumultuous relationship filled with taunts, arguments, and the facade of mutual dislike they both maintained. A soft smile curled on Harry's lips as he reminisced those moments.

Looking down at Louis, Harry scrunched up his nose, pushing a strand of hair back and absentmindedly twirling it around his forefinger. He began to softly sing, almost whispering, "If I lay here, if I just lay here... would you lie with me and just forget the world."

Closing the bedroom door with a gentle click, Harry paused at the head of the stairs when he noticed Liam ascending. In the dimly lit hallway, cast in the soft glow of scattered candles, they exchanged a tight-lipped smile, the evidence of their injuries etched on their faces. Harry's gaze involuntarily flicked to Liam’s bandaged shoulder where a faint spot of blood showed through.

Likewise, Liam's eyes traced the bloodied knuckles and cuts on Harry’s hands before settling briefly on the closed door to Louis' room. With a subtle nod, he inquired, "Any change?"

Harry responded with a disappointed shake of his head, worry weighing heavily on his features. Gesturing towards Liam's shoulder, he asked, ‘’Are you all right?’’

"It's just a bit of bleeding," Liam reassured, but his concern grew as Harry’s attitude shifted. ‘’What aren’t you telling me?’’

"It was Simon," Harry uttered in a hushed tone, the words laden with weight. Liam's confusion was evident. "He took Louis. He was there when I went in... he was... trying to..." Harry's voice trailed off, the haunting image of Louis injured flashing vividly in his mind. "But he told Louis about us."

Liam's expression fell, a wave of alarm washing over him. His face drained of colour as the gravity of the situation sunk in. Fear clouded his eyes, his body tensing with worry and apprehension. “Told him what?’’

“Everything, Liam. He knows.’’

Liam's whispered expletive echoed in the hallway, his sigh and the touch of his hand against his face echoing his concern. Momentarily looking up, he stepped closer to Harry. "Are you sure?"

"Liam," Harry replied, his tone resolute, "I honestly don't think it's that dire. We had no choices. It's justified, it's—"

"They killed his parents," Liam cut in sharply. "They killed Zayn's parents. If he finds out about me, it's... I'm finished."

Harry's determination faltered, his gaze drifting downward to the floor. He racked his brain for an answer, a solution, only leaving his mind frustratingly blank. Meeting Liam's resolute stare, he finally voiced his suggestion. "You should talk to him before Louis wakes up."

As Harry started to descend the stairs, his movements strained by the pain that seared through him, Liam's voice called after him once more. Turning midway down the staircase, Harry was met with Liam's solemn gaze, his eyes dark. "Did you kill him?"

A sharp pang of pain shot through Harry's knuckles as Simon's face flashed through his mind. He paused for a moment, feeling the weight of the memories, then blinked indifferently.

"Of course I did."

As soon as Harry stepped downstairs, determination etched into his features, Luke met him in the living room. The room gradually filled with the others, a mix of concern and support evident on their faces. Luke and Harry gathered their supplies, checking their weapons meticulously. They strapped belts around their waists, securing ammunition, and carefully loaded their guns.

“Harry, you’re still hurt.” Zayn persistently followed Harry's every move, concern etched into his features, he called out, "Harry!"

"I can handle it," Harry's response was resolute, his voice unwavering as he checked the chamber of his gun once more.

Luke, focused and determined, zipped up his jacket and made his way toward the door without a word.

‘’H,’’ Niall attempted to intervene, cautiously approaching Harry, but halted abruptly as Harry spun around to face him.

"Keep an eye on Louis for me," he ordonned, his gaze piercing, before he turned swiftly and swung the door open. Without hesitation, he descended the small stairs, the crease of worry between his eyebrows evident.

With a comforting pat on Luke's shoulder, Oli urged him forward, but Niall intercepted him, his eyes filled with concern. "Be careful out there," Niall's plea hung in the air before he locked the door behind them.

The darkness of unconsciousness slowly receded as Louis struggled to open his heavy eyelids. Disoriented and shivering, he found himself in an unfamiliar room, his mind a foggy mess. Panic gripped him as he tried to make sense of his surroundings, groaning with the effort. Coughs racked his weakened frame as he sat up in bed, his head pounding with a dizzying intensity. His gaze swept the room, landing on a hoodie laid on the pillow beside him. With trembling hands, he reached for it, recognizing it as Harry's. He brought it to his face, inhaling the familiar scent.

Painfully, he struggled to put the hoodie on, his body protesting every movement. His bruised wrists caught his attention, images flashed before his eyes—flames, smoke, and Simon.

Muffled noises from downstairs spurred him into action. Clutching his chest, wincing with each breath, Louis managed to get to his feet, his hand trailing along the wall for support as he descended the stairs, his steps slow and unsteady. The voices grew clearer, a faint beacon of familiarity.

Hazily, he surveyed the house, taking in the sight of their bags and sensing the presence of the others. Determined, he made his way toward the kitchen, his movements faltering but resolute.

The creaking of the kitchen door echoed through the silent house, drawing the attention of the boys who had gathered there in front of a new city map. Each one turned, their movements freezing as they laid eyes on Louis, his figure swaying in the doorway.

Niall's eyes widened in disbelief, a breath catching in his throat. Zayn stood frozen, his hand pausing mid-air as he reached for something on the counter. Oli's expression shifted from shock to relief, a glimmer of hope brightening his eyes. Luke's mouth fell open, speechless at the sight before him. Liam's gaze fixed on Louis, his features contorting with a mix of astonishment and disbelief.

But it was Harry who was the most affected. His hand gripped a mug, fingers trembling with unspoken emotion. As their eyes met, Harry's breath hitched, his heart pounding erratically in his chest. The mug slipped from his grasp, crashing to the ground, shattering into pieces.

The loud noise of the shattering mug filled the room, but it was nothing compared to the cacophony of emotions swirling inside Harry. His eyes widened in sheer disbelief, a mixture of relief and an overwhelming rush of feelings surging through him. He took a step forward, then another, before freezing in his tracks, unable to move or speak, his entire world shifting with Louis' sudden reappearance.

Louis stood there, unaware of the weight of his absence or the impact of his return, his own confusion evident as he surveyed the room, taking in the stunned expressions of his friends, completely oblivious to the shattered pieces of Harry's heart at his feet.

The room seemed suspended in time as Louis took hesitant steps toward Harry, his eyes never leaving the depths of Harry's emotion-filled gaze. His heart raced in sync with Harry's unspoken turmoil, each beat carrying an untold story between them. But as he attempted to speak, his voice barely a whisper, he frowned, his expression falling as panic started to rise in him. He brought his hand to his neck, trying to speak again, eyes wild on Harry’s face.

Harry moved closer instinctively, bridging the gap between them, "Hey, hey," he soothed, his voice gentle and comforting. "It's okay, you can't speak for now, but you are okay. It's going to take some time."

Louis met Harry's gaze, his large doe eyes still reflecting worry and fear, but for a brief moment, they softened, a trace of relief crossing his features as he took in Harry's words. A semblance of calm washed over him, his tense posture relaxing ever so slightly. However, Louis's attention was drawn to Harry's necklace, his eyes fixated on the familiar ring nestled next to the silver cross, his expression shifting as recognition dawned.

"I... It was dirty, I took it to clean it but then I was afraid to hurt you, because of the... the bruises. So I just... I—" Harry stumbled over his words, his fingers moving to unclasp the necklace at his neck, but Louis's touch on his chest stopped him.

When Harry met Louis's gaze again, he found Louis much closer, their proximity sparking a chill that ran through his body. Louis's frail hand gently cradled the ring between his fingers, their eyes locking in an unspoken conversation that spoke volumes. Harry's eyes conveyed a longing "I missed you," while Louis's response echoed a reassuring "I'm here now."

A faint smile played on Louis's lips, mirrored by Harry, but a lone tear escaping his eye caught Louis off guard. His gentle touch wiped the tear away, Harry stunned by his tenderness. His fingers traced down Harry's face, pausing on a bruise next to his lips, stirring his emotions. Without a word, Louis leaned into Harry's chest, resting his cheek against the fabric, his hands finding their places on his hips. Harry enveloped him in a warm embrace with delayed reaction, burying his face into Louis's hair, fighting against his own tears.

As the poignant moment unfolded between Harry and Louis, emotions ran high for the rest of the group. Niall and Liam, overwhelmed by the touching reunion, struggled to contain the tears threatening to spill. Liam, feeling the weight of the moment, found comfort in Zayn's touch, his fingers interlacing with his, seeking support and understanding. But, Niall's loud sniffles cut through the air, drawing everyone's attention, including Harry and Louis.

Managing a subdued chuckle and extending a feeble arm toward Niall, Louis instructed him closer. In an instant, Niall was on his feet, joined swiftly by Liam, Zayn, and Oli, the boys encircling Harry and Louis in a tight embrace. Their arms wrapped around Harry and Louis, the boys closed their eyes, relishing the feeling of being reunited once more.

It was surreal to think of the transformation from strangers to this unbreakable bond, willing to sacrifice everything for each other.

While nestled against Harry and flanked by Liam and Zayn and the others, Louis noticed Luke standing alone near the sink, his emotions veiled behind a stoic expression. Louis gently extracted his arm from the entwined group and motioned for Luke to join them. Luke hesitated briefly before making his way over. Oli opened his arms, welcoming Luke into the embrace, completing their little circle. Louis rested in the centre, surrounded and shielded by the love and protection of his friends.

‘’Okay, I’m going to touch your neck now.’’ Zayn said as gently as possible.

Louis perched on the kitchen table, nodded in consent as Zayn positioned himself between his thighs. But his fingers gripped the table tightly, knuckles turning white. The boys were encircling him, their expressions a mix of concern and hope. Harry stood right behind Zayn, his lower lip pressed between his fingers, crease of worry between his brows.

His thoughts were clearer now with some water and snacks, but he couldn't shake the unease seeing his friends' injuries, especially Liam with the bandages wrapped around his bare chest. Concern for them overtook his own worries. But as soon as Zayn reached out to touch Louis' throat, the room seemed to hold its breath.

Louis flinched, his breath hitching at the sensitive touch.

"I know, I'm sorry," Zayn murmured, meeting Louis' gaze, his hands hovering near but not applying any pressure. "You're safe, okay? I won't hurt you."

Zayn, his fingers pressing lightly against Louis' bruised throat, rubbed and massaged the skin as tenderly as he could, trying not to aggravate the large, discoloured marks. Louis winced as Zayn worked, the pain evident in his expression.

"Go ahead, try to speak softly," Zayn encouraged, his voice gentle and supportive.

Louis obeyed, attempting to form words, but the sound that escaped his lips was fragmented and indistinct. He cleared his throat multiple times, growing increasingly frustrated with his inability to speak clearly.

"Take it easy," Harry urged, concern etched on his face, but Louis was determined.

He persisted, concentrating intensely, and husked out in a barely audible tone, "Z-Zayn."

The boys reacted with gasps and hopeful smiles, relieved that Louis' voice wasn't completely lost. Encouraged by their reactions, Louis continued, "Liam," but his words were interrupted by a heavy coughing fit. Harry's lips twitched in frustration as Louis struggled to speak Oli's name, the effort visibly draining him. Harry was ready to intervene, but then Louis turned his gaze toward him and managed to utter much clearer, "Harry."

His voice was raspy, strained, but the fight left Harry’s body as soon as he heard his own name in his mouth. He glanced at Louis, an expression of pure relief on his face. But as soon as Louis began to open his mouth again, seemingly willing to say more, Harry closed the distance, coming up beside Zayn.

"That's enough for now. Have some water," Harry said gently, offering Louis a bottle.

"Niall!" Liam called out, waiting for Niall's response, while Louis turned on the table to look behind him, anticipating an answer. A loud thud followed by cursing and a hiss echoed, and suddenly, the room lit up as the electricity surged back on. Louis winced, adjusting to the sudden brightness, his movements sending a sharp pang through his arm.

"Yeah," Harry redirected Louis's attention, noticing everyone getting occupied. "You've been hurt pretty badly. Zayn and Oli did what they could, but it's still not perfect," he explained, nodding toward Louis's arm.

Furrowing his brow, Louis placed the water bottle nearby and pulled his sleeve down, wincing at the hoodie fabric's touch against his skin. When he revealed his shoulder, his eyes widened in surprise at the thick bandage enveloping it. He attempted to speak, but only a broken sound emerged. As Harry reflexively reached out, Louis flinched, causing Harry to withdraw, unable to conceal the hurt in his own eyes.

"It's alright," Harry said, swallowing his disappointment. "You're safe now."

Even in his awakened state, Louis couldn't deny the exhaustion that permeated every inch of his body. His head throbbed persistently, matched by the aches in his arms, legs, and throughout his being. Frustration bubbled within him due to the inability to speak, especially considering his usual role as the lively, boisterous centre of the group. The boys, sensing the shift, made a conscious effort to surround him, providing company and support.

Niall sat cross-legged on the floor by the coffee table, a collection of talkies sprawled before him, wires and tools scattered amidst his focused frown and the tip of his tongue peeking out in concentration.

"What's happening?" Oli settled next to Louis, an arm draped over the blanket covering him.

"I thought we might use these to reach other survivors," Niall explained, fiddling with the talkies. "If I can set them up to link together, we might find a channel to reach someone. You mentioned a camp up north, right?"

Louis nodded, unable to speak. Suddenly, a warm mug appeared in front of him. Meeting Liam's gaze, Louis took the cup, welcoming its warmth. As Liam settled in an armchair, Louis found himself studying him closely.

"Looks like we're staying put for a while," Liam sighed, massaging his wounded shoulder.

"Yeah," Oli agreed. "Luke and H said it's safe around here. Might need more food and bandages for everyone."

"I'm fine," Liam insisted, almost dismissively.

"Mate, you’ve been shot. H too." Niall pointed out.

"Just a scratch, really," Liam insisted, trying to downplay it.

Oli softened his tone, looking at Liam. "We'll need more than 'fine' to get through this."

But Louis was lost in thought, the conversation around him fading. His gaze travelled over each of them, noting their injuries. He hadn't yet grasped what happened or how they ended up in such a state. Examining the scratches, cuts, and marks on his friends, a mix of gratitude and frustration churned within him. The weight of guilt bore down heavily, amplifying the feeling that he was responsible for their plight. He hadn't realised the extent of their injuries and hadn't even noticed Harry's wounds. He also hadn't realised the shift in Liam's care for him, grappling with the realisation that Liam was now ready to risk his life for Louis' safety after previously pushing him away from the group.

Annoyed and overwhelmed by unspoken thoughts, Louis set the mug back on the coffee table, abruptly rising from the couch, causing Oli's arm to slide off of him.

"What just happened?" Zayn questioned, placing the remaining mugs on the table and immediately glancing at Liam.

As Louis stormed out of the room, a wave of unease passed between Liam and Harry, their eyes meeting briefly, sharing a silent conversation filled with worry and apprehension. They knew that Louis was aware of their secret, and the fear that he might divulge it hung heavy between them.

"I have no clue," Liam responded, his eyes not meeting Zayn’s one.

Chapter 23: Revelations

Chapter Text

The townhouse, once a haven of relief after their harrowing escape from the Raiders, had become a refuge tinged with an uneasy atmosphere. Liam’s wound had healed swiftly, leaving only a lingering ache in his shoulder as a reminder of their ordeal. Harry put on a facade of normalcy, though the sharp twinges in his thighs betrayed the lingering pain he endured from time to time. Louis, however, bore the physical and emotional aftermath with the most profound impact. The wound on his arm from Simon’s knife and the bruise darkening his neck had mended gradually, but the toll on his voice lingered. His vocal cords strained, his once melodic voice now huskier, fighting its way back to its former resonance with each passing day.

Yet, it was not just the physical wounds that set an odd tenor within the group. Louis withdrew into solitude, a stark contrast to his former exuberance. His laughter faded, replaced by a solemn silence that seemed to envelop him. He distanced himself not only from Oli, Luke, and the others but especially from Harry.

The air around them thickened with unspoken tension whenever the group congregated. A palpable unease settled, casting a shadow over their interactions. Oli and Luke exchanged furtive glances, both sensing the growing chasm but uncertain how to breach it. The once lively banter now felt forced, the camaraderie strained by an unspoken weight none of them dared to address.

Days passed, and though wounds healed, the rift between Louis and the others remained, a silent canyon in the midst of their shared struggles. Each day brought a semblance of recovery, yet the emotional wounds festered, unspoken and unresolved, casting a sombre pall over their sanctuary.

Among the group, it was Zayn who perceived the subtle shifts within Louis most acutely. The faint tremor in Louis' smile whenever his eyes met Harry’s did not escape Zayn's perceptive gaze. The once effervescent grin that lit up Louis' face now faltered, overshadowed by an unseen weight that lingered between him and Harry. Observing from the sidelines, Zayn also noticed Louis’ subtle but significant changes in behaviour. Louis, his attention drifting even as Liam spoke, his brow furrowed in moments of quiet reflection, lost in thoughts that seemed to torment rather than reassure him.

The cigarette breaks became a telltale sign of Louis' inner turmoil. Despite the group's gentle attempts to dissuade him, Louis found solace in the smouldering end of a cigarette. His hands trembled ever so slightly, the rhythmic twitching betraying the underlying nerves or perhaps the relentless anxiety that plagued him.

Zayn chose a path of silent observation, gathering these subtle details, piecing them together like fragments of a puzzle. He kept his deductions close, preferring to wait for the right moment to address the growing chasm within their once tightly-knit group. Each flicker in Louis' demeanour, each silent plea for reassurance, did not escape Zayn’s astute awareness.

On that cold, rain-soaked London morning, Luke and Harry geared up for another foray into the areas, hoping to scavenge more than the monotonous supplies of canned goods. Niall, still engrossed in his relentless efforts to fix the talkie, muttered curses under his breath, his determination undeterred.

Among this bustle, Louis emerged from a momentary respite in the kitchen, the tendrils of cigarette smoke trailing behind him. He leaned against the door frame, a silent observer, his gaze fixed on Luke and Harry engaged in jovial banter as they readied themselves near the door, boots laced tight. A surge of unfamiliar emotions welled up within Louis, an uninvited guest in his mind. He marveled at how quickly Luke and Harry had become close, sharing laughter now when not long ago, conflict had been their language. A bitter pang of jealousy pierced through him, catching him off guard.

Clearing his throat, he pushed away from the wall, a faint tremor in his movements as he tugged his sleeves down, concealing the scars etched on his skin from the chains.

"I'm coming with you," Louis announced, his strained voice cutting through the room, drawing everyone's attention, even pulling Niall momentarily from his tinkering.

Harry, rising slowly from the ground, glanced at Louis, brows furrowed in uncertainty, as if unsure Louis was addressing him. "What?"

Louis stood resolute. "I'm coming," he reiterated, his voice carrying a hint of defiance as he reached for a backpack lying on the floor.

Harry chuckled softly, trying to reason with Louis. "You know it's not safe, Louis."

A flicker of frustration danced in Louis' eyes. "And why is that?" he challenged.

"You're not fully healed yet, and you need rest. We can handle it; we've managed before," Harry replied, his gaze following Louis as he made his way for his jacket.

"This wouldn't even be a problem if you wouldn't make one out of it," Louis retorted, the edge in his voice sharpening.

"Lou, he's right. We've got this," Luke chimed in, attempting to diffuse the tension.

"I'm not talking to you," Louis snapped back, his tone cutting. "I'll go. You're just as injured as me; there's no reason I can't."

Confusion clouded Harry's expression. He glanced at the others, bewildered by Louis' sudden change in demeanour. He hesitated, a sense of unease creeping in. But as Louis reached for a gun, a surge of concern propelled Harry forward. In a swift motion, he closed the gap and ripped the weapon from Louis' grasp.

"We can manage," Harry affirmed.

The room held its breath as Louis squared up to Harry, a palpable tension hanging between them. Louis stood firm, a defiant silhouette, trying to assert his autonomy in the face of Harry's concern.

"You're not in charge of me. I make my own decisions. And I'm coming," Louis declared, his voice resolute, echoing in the room.

‘’Why are you doing this ?” Harry's whispered plea was barely audible, a quiet entreaty meant for Louis alone, a plea to avoid airing their conflict to the rest of the group. His eyes bore into Louis', silently begging for understanding.

"Lou, maybe you should wait a few days," Oli interjected gently.

"What's wrong with all of you?" Louis exclaimed, his raspy voice cracking under the strain, a harsh cough punctuating his outburst. "I'm not made of glass!" His frustration echoed in the room, a testament to his inner turmoil, the desire to prove his strength and independence conflicting with the genuine concern from those around him.

The air crackled with unresolved tension as Harry, puzzled and somewhat frustrated, rolled his eyes in response to Louis' sudden outburst. "I really don't understand what's going on with you sometimes,"

"Oh, yes, because you're so great," Louis retorted sharply, his tone edged with sarcasm.

"What does that even mean?"

At the table, Niall remained motionless, the screwdriver in his hand forgotten, his eyes fixed on the unfolding exchange. It felt like a throwback to the group's earlier days, a time when Harry and Louis struggled to hold a conversation without it descending into pointless bickering. Zayn, sensing the escalating tension, rose slowly from the couch, poised to intervene, yet unable to tear his gaze away from observing Liam's anxious reaction.

"Forget it," Louis spat out, his voice carrying a hint of finality. He turned abruptly, letting the backpack fall to the ground with a resounding thud.

"Don't just walk away like that," Luke called out after him, but was only welcomed by Louis’ middle finger raised in the air as he went up the stairs and slammed the door behind him.

Zayn ascended the stairs with a light step, aiming not to disturb Louis. He found him sitting at the edge of the bed, lost in contemplation. Pulling a chair closer, Zayn settled, offering a gentle smile despite the worry etched on his face.

"Hey," Zayn greeted softly, his voice a gentle reassurance as he observed Louis, taking in his mood. "Mind if I join you?"

Louis raised his weary gaze, weariness evident in his features, but he nodded silently, allowing Zayn to take the seat. "I brought the first aid kit," Zayn mentioned calmly, his gaze unwavering yet respectful. "I know it might sting a bit, but I need to take a look."

Louis hesitated, his expression conflicted. With a resigned sigh, he slowly nodded, preparing himself for the discomfort that awaited. Zayn helped Louis out of his shirt with tender care, acknowledging each wince of pain. His touch was gentle, radiating comfort as he began the careful process of removing the bandages.

Keeping the conversation light, Zayn attempted to distract Louis. "How's your voice holding up?" he asked, offering a soft smile.

"Not too bad," Louis replied, managing a faint smile.

As Zayn started working on the stitches, Louis contained a pained moan. Attempting to lighten the mood, he remarked, "I see Liam finally got the balls. Quite official you too now."

"Yeah, well. Things were good," Zayn replied, his tone tinged with uncertainty.

"Were?" Louis inquired.

"He's been distant lately. I'm not sure what's up. It's like he's hiding something,"

When Louis didn’t answer, Zayn raised his eyes to him, his hands pausing on his arm. Their eyes locking for a moment, Louis narrowing his, feeling like Zayn was implying more.

"Do you love him?" Louis asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

Returning to the task at hand, Zayn replied, "Yeah, I do."

The revelation hit Louis hard. He averted his gaze, swallowing hard, his mind racing with thoughts. He wondered if Zayn knew about Liam and Harry, and if so, whether he was keeping their secret. Before he could speak, Zayn finished up, signalling the end of the task

"All done," Zayn announced, nodding toward the newly bandaged arm. He helped Louis put his shirt back on, both of them struggling through the discomfort, Louis cursing and swearing loudly despite his strained voice.

As Zayn prepared to leave, he turned back. "You know you can talk to me, right?"

Louis hesitated before managing a small smile. "Could you bring me some tea?"

Zayn's smile faltered slightly, but he nodded and left. Alone in the room, Louis sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew one thing for certain: Zayn was unaware of the truth about Liam.

Louis stood by the open window, watching the silent streets of London, the smoke from his cigarette disappearing into the chilly air outside. The town appeared frozen, the usual bustling sounds replaced by an eerie silence, almost like a paused scene in a movie. There was a knock on the door, interrupting his thoughts.

"Yeah, come in," Louis called out without shifting his gaze from the window.

He turned, surprised to see Luke entering with a cup of tea in hand. Luke remained silent, coming over to stand beside Louis, taking a cigarette from the pack without saying a word. They both stood there, enveloped in the cloud of smoke, the room filled with the faint scent of tobacco.

As Louis puffed on his cigarette, he reflected on the tangled history between him and Luke, from childhood friends to something more complicated and now barely even friends.

"I want to say I'm sorry," Luke finally spoke up, breaking the silence.

Louis tapped his cigarette, letting the ashes fall into the air, a small frown tugging at his lips as he gazed outside the window.

"What for?" He kept his voice neutral, though tension simmered beneath the surface.

"For everything, I suppose," Luke confessed softly. "I know things haven’t been great between us. I’ve made mistakes, said things I shouldn’t have.”

Exhaling a plume of smoke, Louis observed it blend into the chilly atmosphere. Conflict brewed within him, torn between clinging onto the past and forging ahead. "Yeah, well, times change," he replied, guarded.

Luke's voice softened as he continued, "I was jealous of Harry, I admit. And that was stupid, I was a twat.” Luke shrugged,”But, we almost lost you... I got scared, Lou. I realised how important you are to me. I should've said something before."

Louis took in Luke's words, understanding the weight behind them. He threw his cigarette out the window and turned fully to his friend, chin high and still very defensive, but also understanding the weight behind them.

"I'll be waiting, if you ever want me again," Luke added, his tone filled with sincerity.

Louis nodded, considering Luke's heartfelt admission. "Thank you for saying that. Look, I get it. But just to be clear, there's nothing romantic between Harry and me."

Luke grinned, though it was tinged with a bit of sadness. "I promise to be kind to Harry and not bother you guys."

Louis smirked, bantering lightly. "You better not"

Luke chuckled. "Friends?"

"Friends," Louis affirmed, feeling a sense of closure between them.

"Guys!" Niall's urgent call summoned Oli, Liam, and Zayn to the living room. They clustered around Niall at the window, peering through the wooden planks shielding them from the outside world.

A shadow preceded the roaring sound of a military plane tearing through the sky. It flew unnervingly low, seemingly close enough to brush the roof of a distant tall building.

"What's the army doing here?" Oli's concern was evident in his voice.

Liam, wearing a mask of guilt and worry, was the first to detach himself from the group. When Zayn met his gaze, Liam averted his eyes, offering a forced smile before retreating to the kitchen and closing the door behind him.

"Maybe they're dropping off rations," Niall speculated, expressing his yearning for a Guinness. He sighed and settled onto the couch.

Oli joined him, absentmindedly eyeing the walkie-talkies on the table. "Yeah," he mused, "Do you think things will ever go back to normal? Life, I mean. What if we actually make it to that camp?"

"I don't know, mate," Niall replied, shifting on the couch and returning to the talkies. "But one thing's for sure: I'm not afraid of anything anymore. It has to be better than this." His gesture encompassed their surroundings with a talkie.

Concerned by Liam's behaviour, Zayn made his way to the kitchen, discovering Liam there with one of Louis' cigarettes. Shock and surprise etched across Zayn's face.

"Since when do you smoke?" Zayn's voice betrayed a sharp edge.

Startled, Liam dropped the cigarette into the sink, cursing softly. "Oh, I don't know. Stress, I guess?"

Zayn watched him closely as Liam rinsed his hands. "What's going on with you?"

"Me? Nothing. Why'd you say that? I'm fine.

Before Zayn could confront him further, the door swung open, Luke and Harry's voices reverberating from the hallway.

"You wouldn't believe what we found!" Luke burst in, tossing his bag aside as the boys congregated in the hallway to welcome them back. Harry closed the door behind them, carrying several bags. The group shuffled toward the living room, only Louis conspicuously absent.

"Harry jumped a wall, and we stumbled upon this farm-like place, and look!" Luke exclaimed, revealing a bag brimming with eggs. The boys collectively gasped, their faces lighting up with happiness and relief at the prospect of finally having something different to eat after a long while.

Harry, joining the gathering, had a noticeable limp that didn't escape Zayn's notice. He set down two cans of fruit salad and another of beans on the table. The group erupted in excitement, patting the two boys on the back, showering them with praise and laughter.

"I'm starving!" Niall exclaimed from the floor as Harry tossed him a canned beer. Niall barely managed to catch it, his eyes welling up. "Beer..." he said in wonder, genuinely touched and overjoyed. "Harry, it's beer!"

Amidst chuckles, Harry nodded. "Yes, Niall, I know."

"Harry... Guys... It's beer." Niall rose from the ground, cradling the can as though it were a precious gift, gazing at it with sheer adoration. "Harry, I love you."

Laughter erupted among the boys, filling the room with a much-needed sense of lightness and camaraderie.

Hours later, Louis stirred, awakening atop his bed, disoriented and uncertain of when slumber had overtaken him. Confusion clouded his mind as he detected a peculiar scent lingering in the air—an aroma that seemed surreal, almost dreamlike. The tantalising fragrance of eggs invaded his senses, jolting him into wakefulness.

Curiosity piqued, he abandoned his bed and quietly padded down the hallway, drawn by the scent that felt more like a figment of his imagination. As he entered the kitchen, his heart sank and a lump formed in his throat at the scene that unfolded before him.

Zayn and Liam, were working in seamless harmony, nudging each other playfully as they collaborated on cooking. Louis observed their closeness, swallowing hard, a mixture of emotions bubbling within him.

On the other side of the kitchen, Harry, Niall, and Luke were setting the table with an air of contentment, preparing for the meal. Yet, instead of feeling relieved or happy, a surge of anger started to build within Louis, boiling in his veins as he watched their collective efforts. His chest tightened with a mix of frustration and a feeling of treason. Resentment gnawed at him as he stood there, unseen and unnoticed, a spectator to the cohesion and unity among the others.

As Zayn turned around with two plates in hands, his expression brightened "Hey there," he greeted cheerfully, setting the plates on the table. "Harry and Luke found eggs! It's amazing. How long has it been since you had eggs, Lou?"

As they all gathered around the table, anticipation for the meal hung in the air. However, as Louis slid his hands into his pockets, feeling the familiar touch of the dog tags, anger surged within him once more. His gaze lingered on Liam and Harry, his lips twitching with unresolved emotions.

"Louis, are you joining us?" Harry's innocent inquiry interrupted his thoughts.

Hesitating for a moment, torn between silence and speaking up, Louis's decision was swiftly made. With a sudden motion, he yanked the dog tags out of his pocket, flinging them onto the table. The metallic clatter reverberated through the room, instantly silencing their chatter.

Zayn, still holding his plate, froze in place, his eyes fixated on the objects. Liam and Harry stayed motionless, hands suspended mid-air. Setting his plate aside, Zayn slowly approached the table, eyeing Louis with a mix of trepidation and concern. With deliberate movements, he reached for the dog tags before Liam could intercept them.

As Zayn held the tags, his palm revealed the engraved names, his focus zeroing in on Liam's. The room fell into an eerie silence, tension thickening with each passing second. Harry’s eyes were focused on his untouched plate, while Liam, visibly shaken, summoned the courage to meet Zayn's eyes.

"I-I can explain," Liam stammered, desperation evident in his voice, but Zayn took a step back, his gaze fixed on the dog tags.

"What's happening?" Luke's concern was evident in his voice.

"What's happening," Louis spoke, his gaze dark and fixated on Harry, "Is that these two lied to us. From the start."

Confusion marred Oli, Luke, and Niall's expressions as they glanced between Liam and Harry, trying to make sense of the situation.

"Why don’t you speak up, Styles?" Louis's tone dripped with mockery, the use of surname causing a twitch on Harry’s lips. "No words? What's the matter now?" Harry tightened his grip around his fork, his jaw clenched in frustration.

Seeing Harry remain silent, Louis raised his arms in exasperation. "These two were in the army. They were with them at the beginning."

The room fell into a heavy silence as the weight of Louis's words sank in. Oli, Luke, and Niall exchanged bewildered glances, unable to grasp the gravity of the revelation.

"Orders were given, right ?" Louis continued, his voice edged with bitterness.

Zayn's clenched fists and Louis's simmering anger reflected their shared fury at the truth Harry and Liam had concealed. The betrayal, coupled with the revelation of their past, hung in the air like an unspoken accusation.

"Don't you ever wonder why they were so good with guns? Why they had them in the first place?" Louis's gaze fixated on Zayn, his voice carrying a mixture of anguish and anger. "Don't you remember how we never got to actually touch a gun? And how, because of them, Niall got hurt? Because you never trusted us!" His words spilled out in a torrent, his voice escalating and breaking, his coughs punctuating his frustration.

Liam pushed his chair back, attempting to approach Zayn, but Zayn only walked backward again, his jaw set and his hazel eyes menacing. "It's not like that! We—We didn't know! We deserted! We left!" He pleaded, desperately trying to make the others understand, turning to face the boys in a bid to convey his sincerity.

"You lied," Louis spat, the hurt palpable in his voice. "It's been a year! A year since we've been together, and you didn't say anything!"

The weight of the revelation hung heavily in the air, a year of friendship now tainted by the unveiled deception. The room echoed with the raw emotions of betrayal and confusion, leaving a stark divide between those who had withheld the truth and those who had been kept in the dark. The tension in the room was suffocating, each second stretching into an eternity as Zayn remained motionless, his gaze unyielding. Liam hesitated, attempting to breach the silence, but Zayn's unwavering stare rendered him speechless.

The others, frozen in disbelief at Louis' revelation, held their breath, bracing for Zayn's response. Fear tethered them to their places, anticipation mingled with dread.

"Did you kill them?" Louis's voice quivered with a mix of accusation and anger, demanding answers from the unyielding figure before them.

"Louis, just give me a moment—" Liam attempted, only to be interrupted by Louis's anguished outcry, his hand clasping his throat in desperation. "Answer me!"

The room hung in pregnant silence, the weight of the question suffocating the air. When no words came forth, Liam's gaze shifted back to Zayn, only to find him staring back, disappointment etched on his features. As Zayn stormed past him, their shoulders collided in a forceful clash before he stormed out of the room, leaving behind a chilling void of unanswered questions and an atmosphere fraught with tension.

Zayn acted on impulse, grabbing the cigarette pack from the hallway console and hastily pushing through the sealed double doors leading to the backyard. With trembling hands, he struggled to light his cigarette, a strand of his now long hair falling between his brows as his nose twitched.

In the grey, humid atmosphere outside, the neglected garden sprawled before him, nature reclaiming its space and shielding him from the world beyond. A click behind him made him freeze, cigarette poised between his lips. He waited in silence, frustration building until he had to shut his eyes to contain himself.

Finally turning, he faced Liam, who stood with guilt etched into every feature, eyes glistening with moisture. Even though it was the first time Zayn had seen Liam in such a state, he couldn’t shake the feeling of betrayal.

Before Liam could speak, Zayn cut him off sharply. "Sit," he commanded, leaving no room for argument. Liam stumbled to a folded chair and complied.

Under Zayn's unrelenting gaze, Liam squirmed inwardly.

He understood that he hadn't yet unravelled every facet of Zayn's personality, and their evolving dynamics in this survival scenario often caught him off guard. But one certainty remained: he never wanted to be the source of Zayn's frustration. He never wanted to be the person Zayn directed his anger towards. Because an enraged Zayn was an imposing and fearsome sight.

And Zayn stood a few feet away, his hazel eyes now dark and narrowed, fixed unwaveringly on Liam. Despite the act of smoking, each exhale disappearing into the air, he seemed almost unaffected by the tension.Fidgeting with his fingers, Liam almost wished Zayn would scream at him, any reaction would do. Biting the inside of his cheek, he opted to simply wait, meeting Zayn's gaze to convey his readiness for the conversation.

"Did you ever plan on telling me?" Zayn finally asked, his voice deeper, his accent thicker—clear indicators that he was deeply affected.

"I wanted to, I just—" Liam sighed, hands moving with his words, pleading with wide puppy-like eyes. "I just didn't know how! I tried, honestly. I wanted to tell you. But I was scared. I'm a coward," he admitted, arms gesturing in the air before falling limp by his sides. "I—I grew attached to you, and I was terrified it would change how you see me."

Zayn stubbed out his cigarette, grinding it into the grass before rolling his shoulders with a sigh. He cleared his throat, absentmindedly clicking his tongue and withdrew a dog tag from his pocket, tracing Liam's name on the cold metal with his finger.

"Zayn, I swear... It all happened before I met you. I deserted. I know it doesn't excuse what I did but I'm—"

"It's okay," Zayn interrupted, his voice suddenly calm.

Liam froze, hands hovering near his chest, fingers grazing the fabric of his sweater. "What?"

Zayn shrugged, shifting his gaze from the dog tag to Liam. "It's okay. It's in the past."

"But—"

"We killed," Zayn continued, "When we rescued Louis, we had to kill those men. It’s either kill or get killed. I know it's not the same, but it's in the past. It's something that's gone now. There's no point in bringing it up again."

Liam blinked, watching as Zayn glanced down at the dog tag before gasping as Zayn suddenly hurled it as far as he could. Both of them tracked the silver piece glinting until it vanished beyond the trees.

Unconsciously, Liam rose from his chair, his mouth closing when his eyes met Zayn's again. They fell into another staring match, where neither moved nor spoke. Then, slowly, Zayn closed the distance, standing forehead to forehead with Liam. The intensity radiating from Zayn made Liam want to shrink away, swallowing hard and fighting the urge to avert his gaze.

"If you ever dare lie to me again, Liam James Payne, I swear you'd wish for the army to find you before I do. Are we clear?" Zayn's voice was firm, his gaze unwavering.

Liam's eyes involuntarily flickered down to Zayn's lips, their proximity and allure momentarily captivating him. He nodded eagerly, licking his lips as their eyes locked once more.

"That was the first and the last time. If you ever l—"

“I love you,” Liam blurted, the words tumbling out beyond his control.

Zayn's reaction was immediate yet restrained. A subtle sway passed through his frame, a tremor rippling across him as though the ground had shifted beneath his feet. His eyes widened imperceptibly, a hint of shock shimmering within their depths, capturing Liam's gaze intensely. His lips parted slightly, a soft breath escaping, an unspoken echo of astonishment.

"You told me to stop lying. I won't. It's been a while, but I never said it. And now, with what happened, I don't want to go another day without you knowing. I'm sorry."

Zayn blinked rapidly, attempting to process the sudden confession. His features froze momentarily in a mix of surprise and disbelief. Time seemed to halt as Zayn grappled with the unexpected declaration, eventually regaining his composure, a flurry of emotions flitting across his face, yet no words escaping his lips.

“I—” Zayn started, clearing his throat. “I would have kissed you, but I’m still mad.”

“O-Okay. I understand,” Liam responded, though his eyes held a hint of darkness, darting to meet Zayn's.

As Zayn turned to head for the double doors leading back into the house, he caught Liam's reflection in the glass and halted, his shoulders sagging slightly. Suddenly, he pivoted, closing the distance in two quick strides. Both hands found Liam's face, pulling him close, their bodies aligning as he pressed his lips against Liam's, eliciting a muffled sound from the man, his hands finding their place at Zayn’s waist in response.

Harry sat there, unmoving at the table, clenching his fork so tightly that his hand trembled. Louis, panting with the weight of revelation, glared at him, his piercing blue eyes fixated even though Harry refused to meet his gaze. Sensing the charged atmosphere, Niall, Oli, and Luke slowly gathered their plates, exchanging startled glances, and quietly left the room.

"You're not even going to try to justify yourself..." Louis's words barely escaped his lips before he stormed out, the force of the slam reverberating through the walls.

Releasing the fork and wiping his mouth, Harry paused as he heard the telltale screech of the tires outside, signalling the departure of their companions, geared up for whatever lay ahead. Switching off the kitchen light, Harry considered the whereabouts of Zayn and Liam, absent from the backyard. His heart raced as he climbed the stairs, each step echoing the pulse of his anxiety. Arriving at the end of the corridor, he faced the resistance of the bedroom door.

His sigh mixed with frustration as he encountered the obstruction. Louis, in a dramatic flourish, had barricaded the entrance with a chest of drawers. Harry knew it wouldn't hold against his strength for long, yet it stood there, a symbol of Louis's emotions, an intentional barrier between them. He leaned into it, exerting pressure with his body, inching it open against the resistance. With determination, he applied more force, resolved to breach the barrier, knowing that behind this makeshift barricade lay a conversation that couldn't be avoided anymore.

As soon as the door swung open, and before he could react, a heavy book hurtled toward him, narrowly missing his face and colliding with the door instead.

"Get out!" Louis's voice cracked with raw emotion, one hand pressed against his throat, his dishevelled hair a testament to the anxiety that must have consumed him.

Harry sighed, a pang of familiarity hitting him like déjà vu. It mirrored their first fight weeks after they'd met, the scene identical, the words almost unchanged, save for the context and the depth of their feelings now.

Closing the door behind him, Harry leaned against it, his hand resting on the surface. "Will you listen now?"

Louis halted abruptly, his hand slowly dropping to his side, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "Now?" He scoffed incredulously. "Now!? I've been waiting, Harry. You wouldn't even look at me."

"Stop shouting," Harry urged in a hushed tone, trying to maintain his composure.

"You've got to be kidding me," Louis retorted, his laughter tinged with darkness and resentment. "You're a liar." His voice was calmer but his eyes held a depth of disappointment that Harry found hard to look at.

"It's not what it seems... I don't know what he told you. I don't know what you know, but I can assure you, it's not like this," Harry pleaded.

"Like what?! Like you killed people?! Like the reason you knew exactly what you were doing with the guns, tactics, and hiding was because you've done it before?" Louis's words spilled out rapidly, his hands gesturing wildly, eyes wide and fueled by his emotions.

"I didn't have a choice! I was just a teenager when I got involved. I didn't know! And as soon as we received orders, Liam and I tried to find a way out!" Harry's voice strained with emotion, his explanation coming out in a rush.

"You could have told me!" Louis's voice broke, his finger jabbing at his own chest, signifying himself.

"When?!" Harry's own voice rose, stepping closer, eyes dark and lips trembling. "When we first met and hated each other? When I was trying to keep you alive?! When we were running from the infected ?! Or the Raiders?! Or maybe when you ignored me for two weeks for Luke?! Or when you were kidnapped? Louis, tell me when!"

Both breathing heavily in the charged atmosphere, chests rising and falling with strained breaths, they found themselves locked in a familiar confrontation. Harry observed the snarl on Louis's lips, the vehement shake of his head, a manifestation of disgust.

Louis advanced, his accusatory finger still pointing at himself. "Don't you dare blame me for this. Don't you dare pretend you planned to say something because we both know you never would have!" His voice echoed off the walls. "And you know why? Because you don't trust me! Right from day one, you hated me, and maybe Luke was right! Maybe I was just a hole to-"

"Louis, I swear if you finish that sentence—" Harry interjected sharply.

"What then?!" Louis closed the distance further, his posture provocative.

"I—" Harry struggled to compose himself, attempting to rein in the overpowering anger. Mimicking Louis's gesture, he pointed to his own chest, leaning in closer. "I did my best. I tried so hard. Yes, the beginning with you was tough. But don't you dare assume that being a part of that meant I was willing. I was alone! I—I never once intended to harm you. I protected you! And you say all this as if it doesn't fucking matter!"

Louis observed the shift in Harry's emotions, from anger to a poignant sadness. He witnessed the fine lines of tears that suddenly emerged in Harry's green eyes.

"I left because I couldn't bear to kill those people. I left because it was unfair! I left because I couldn't even face myself in the mirror. I couldn't sleep at night!" Harry's voice cracked with the weight of his confession, the turmoil of emotions visible in his teary eyes.

The tension in the room thickened as Louis reeled from Harry's words, his accusatory finger dropping from his chest as he swallowed hard. Harry's hand moved to his ribs, the intensity of their argument likely exacerbating the pain from his injuries.

“How did you expect me to say it ? We've been through hell, trying to survive, fighting every day. I can never tell which days you like me and which days you wish to see me dead!"

He paused, his gaze meeting Louis's, holding a mix of remorse and hope. "I'm sorry for keeping it from you. I didn't want you to worry, especially with everything else we faced. But I swear, I never wished you harm. I was just trying to keep us alive, both of us."

Louis staggered backward, his accusatory gesture dissipating as he swallowed hard, processing Harry's words. He noticed Harry's hand tenderly touching his rib, the intensity of their argument likely exacerbating the pain from his injury.

As Louis observed Harry's still-bruised knuckles, a wave of realisation crashed over him, cutting through the tumultuous rush of emotions flooding his mind.

"You got shot..." Louis's voice was a breathless whisper.

"I— What?" Harry was taken aback.

"You got shot."

"Yes, Louis, I know. I don't—"

"You got shot," Louis repeated, breathless with the sudden revelation.

"Louis, I really don't understand—" Harry attempted to interject.

"You got shot, you fucking twat!" Louis erupted, his voice straining, on the verge of breaking. "You could have died! Why are you so stupid!?

Observing Louis's raspy voice cracking and witnessing him wince, clutching his throat, Harry's heart sank. He instinctively moved closer, a desire to offer comfort, but he hesitated, confused

"I didn't have a choice! Niall told me he saw you. I was with Luke, and this guy charged at me with an axe. I saw that door open! I couldn't stay put like Liam told me. I had to go—to see if you were there! I didn't care about anyone else. You were there, on the floor, and... nothing else mattered."

Louis experienced a shift in perspective as he gazed at Harry, as if seeing him through a different lens. For the first time, it felt like truly comprehending him. In an instant, the rage, the argument, and the sense of disappointment dissipated, replaced by an unfamiliar tremor in his heart and an inexplicable flutter in his stomach.

Despite sensing a shift within himself, Louis wasn't prepared to let go of his pride. He refused to take the first step or be the one to extend an apology. Instead, he turned away, walking toward the window, consumed by his thoughts, one hand pressed against his chest to steady the rapid thudding of his heart.

"Get out," Louis said, though devoid of anger or malice in his tone.

Harry observed him in silence, grappling with the sudden transformation of their interaction, from heated arguments to this uncharted territory. He blinked away his own emotions, the remnants of anger, fear, and concern still causing his fingers to tremble. Despite the ache to reach out to Louis, Harry remained rooted in place, uncertain of his next move.

As the room remained quiet, Louis eventually turned around, expecting Harry to leave. He raised an expectant eyebrow, waiting for an action from Harry. Yet, when Harry offered a tentative smile, his dimples peeking through, Louis shook his head.

"I said go away," Louis repeated.

"I will," Harry responded softly, taking a few cautious steps forward, hands clasped behind his back.

Louis crossed his arms over his chest, clearing his throat, feigning indifference. "I don't like you.

As Harry drew nearer, their proximity almost intimate, Louis raised his eyes tentatively, feeling his walls of resolve slowly crumbling. He attempted to maintain control, but Harry's gaze, with that slight smirk and a solitary dimple, his endearing bunny teeth teasing his lower lip, made it hard for Louis to remain unaffected.

"I hate you," Louis breathed out, his words betraying the facade he tried to uphold.

"Hmm," Harry hummed almost absentmindedly, tilting his head just enough for his nose to lightly graze against Louis's cheekbone. "I know," he whispered softly.

Louis instinctively tucked his cheek into his shoulder, though he didn't shift his body away from Harry. It was a half-hearted attempt to resist, a feigned rejection he couldn't fully commit to.

“And I missed you.’’

In that charged moment, Harry's admission resonated deep within Louis, stirring a tempest of emotions. He blinked, turning his head gradually to meet Harry's gaze. His heart raced in his chest, tumultuous waves crashing against the barriers he'd erected.

It struck Louis then, the realisation that in over a week since Louis had gone missing and returned, amidst the healing and the burden of his concealed secret, they hadn't shared a moment to reconnect. He wouldn't openly admit it, too proud and stubborn, but he felt the absence keenly. His body begged for connection, yearning to bridge the gap that had grown between them

"Do you truly believe this is how things should be?" Louis murmured, his gaze following Harry's when they traced his mouth.

"No," Harry replied softly, carefully withdrawing his hand from behind his back. He extended it slowly toward Louis's neck, mindful of the faint but still evident traces of bruising, relishing in the way Louis closed his eyes. "But I can't quite remember what we were fighting about."

His thumb gently grazed Louis's ear, tracing the delicate contours, while his nose brushed against Louis's, then to his lips and chin. "It seems like such a bad decision, but I can't resist it."

Louis felt a tumult of emotions swirling within, a newfound realisation of his feelings for Harry. His gaze flickered between Harry's eyes and his lips, a nervous but determined energy pulsating through him. Harry mirrored the intensity, his own feelings laid bare in the slight quiver of his lips and the anticipation in his eyes.

Without warning, Harry closed the remaining distance, taking Louis’ lips between his own with an undeniable urgency. Their bodies collided in an intoxicating embrace, a collision of desire and pent-up emotions, Louis arching against him and Harry following right away, entwined in a passionate dance.

Louis instinctively clasped Harry's shoulders, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them. Their bodies moulded together seamlessly, the heat and urgency palpable as they stumbled backward. It was a convergence of longing and undeniable attraction, a culmination of emotions that neither could suppress any longer.

As Harry's lips claimed his, Louis felt a jolt of electricity, a rush of emotions flooding his senses. He eagerly yielded to the kiss, parting his lips to grant access to Harry's tongue, a silent invitation to explore deeper. Tilting his head, he deepened the kiss, a symphony of fervour and yearning, as if they were trying to pour out all the unspoken words through their touch.

The need for air forced them to break the kiss, both left breathless, their lips swollen and flushed with a warmth that spread throughout their bodies. Louis gazed at Harry with a mix of awe and longing, as if Harry held the entire universe within him. Words eluded him in that moment, replaced by the desperate ache for more, for the reassurance of Harry's presence.

"God, I missed you," Harry whispered in a breathy moan, his lips tracing a trail from Louis's chin to his cheek, teasingly taking his earlobe between his teeth. "I was so afraid."

Louis's body quivered, his nails dug into Harry's shoulders, a mix of sensations flooding his senses as Harry explored his ear and neck. There was a fleeting battle within him, memories of Simon's touch etched into his skin, a painful reminder lingering in the recesses of his mind. Yet, Harry's touch was different, exuding a gentle warmth that Louis found reassuring. Harry placed delicate, open-mouthed kisses on Louis's warm skin, tracing every bruise, every faint trace left behind, as though each kiss aimed to replace those memories with his own.

The sensation of Harry's wet, warm tongue trailing along his neck, beneath his jaw, and around his ear sent the room spinning around them. His fingers splayed across Harry's shoulders, gliding up to his neck and entwining into his hair, his nails lightly grazing against his scalp, eliciting a soft moan from Harry's lips.

Summoning his inner strength, Louis gently guided Harry's head upwards, capturing his lips in a fervent kiss. This time, Louis took charge, pushing forward as he kissed Harry, urging him to yield ground and retreat further into the room. There was an intensity in Louis's actions, a silent command in the way he pressed against Harry, their dance of emotions and desires becoming a wordless exchange of longing and intimacy.

Once he had him where he wanted him, his hands let his hair to glide down his neck and chest, reaching for the button of his trousers. He let go of his mouth to focus his attention under Harry’s jaw, knowing by now how much he liked this spot to be toyed with.

“Lou,’’ Harry breathed, letting his head fall on his shoulder to give him more space, breathless and shivering.

‘’Let me,’’ He answered back, as he pulled down the zipper and fell down to his knees as the fabric slid down his legs.

On the floor, Louis's gaze fell upon Harry's exposed thigh, the haunting sight of the unhealed bullet wound causing a lump to form in his throat, a whirlwind of emotions overtaking him. A soft whimper threatened to escape as he lifted his eyes to meet Harry's, finding in them a tender, caring gaze that spoke volumes.

The conflicting emotions churned within him—a blend of guilt intertwining with an unexpected surge of pride. The realisation that Harry had willingly taken a bullet, risking everything for him, stirred a fiery intensity he hadn't anticipated. As his fingertip hovered near the wound, hesitant, he grappled with the overwhelming gratitude, pondering how he could convey it to Harry. How could he make Harry comprehend that he'd do the same without hesitation, any day, any time?

Louis moved his hands slowly behind Harry's legs, letting them caress their way up his ass. He moved closer to plant an open kiss on his hip bone, relishing in the way the skin began to grow millions of goosebumps.

Harry stood transfixed, his breath catching in his throat as Louis’ hands wrapped around his cock, causing a shudder as they began to stroke him slowly. It wasn't long until Louis’ mouth joined in, starting by licking and suckling at the tip, tasting and cleaning up any of the salty precome that smeared on his lips. It earned him another groan from Harry, seeing his shirt falling on the floor next to him and feeling a hand slide through his hair.

Louis retracted his hands, putting his mouth and only his mouth to work, sunking down past the tip, relishing in the loud moan he was rewarded with. He began to bob his head, working on taking more and more of him every time he dragged his lips up and then down. He let his eyes fall close while he sucked, his reddened lips sliding further down while Harry struggled to maintain a proper breathing pattern. He could feel Harry’s hand tensing from time to time, dragging itself through his now long hair and trying to contain himself from gripping.

The onslaught of memories crashed through his mind, fragments of haunting images and echoes of screams, blood staining his thoughts, compelling him to snap his eyes open.

Observing Harry, head tilted back with closed eyes, the array of scars scattered across his chest and arms, along with the stark reminder of the unhealed wound, intensified the torrent of emotions within him. It served as a stark reminder of how close they had come to losing each other, the near-miss of never being able to express...

"Hey," Harry's gentle voice interrupted, drawing back and cupping Louis' jaw, his thumbs brushing away the traces of tears. Sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes betrayed a deep concern.

In a rare display of vulnerability, struggling amid the tangled web of emotions and the perpetual push and pull with Harry, Louis staggered upright, finding solace by settling onto Harry's lap. He buried his face into the comforting curve of Harry's neck, shutting his eyes tightly as a solitary tear escaped. But even in this closeness, it felt insufficient.

The weight of reality crashed over him, the full realisation of what he had narrowly escaped hitting him all at once. Pulling back, he cupped Harry's face in his hands, examining every contour, fingers tracing his features gently. "You're okay," he breathed out, his voice laden with relief.

Harry, visibly perplexed, held Louis securely, mindful of the wound on his thigh. His brows knitted together, eyes darting around in confusion. "Yes, I am. I'm right here. We're both okay," Harry reassured him, the sincerity evident in his voice.

In a rush of emotions—desperation, concern, and an ache of longing— their lips met once more. Louis held Harry's face firmly, determined to keep their connection unbroken, refusing to let Harry slip away, wanting to claim this closeness as his own. With urgency flooding his movements, Louis reached for his own clothes, swiftly pushing his shirt aside. A sharp moan escaped him as pain surged from the scar staining his arm. His trembling hands fumbled with the belt that clung tightly to his frame, a reminder of the toll on his body, having grown thinner with time.

"Louis," Harry's voice held a note of caution, but despite that, he couldn't stand by and watch Louis potentially hurt himself in his haste. He moved to assist, refusing to let Louis bear the brunt of pain due to the hurried and desperate movements.

In the vulnerability of being exposed, Louis felt a pang of embarrassment at the sight of his body, now lacking its former tone. Swallowing hard to suppress the knot in his throat, he took Harry's hand and guided it to his chest, allowing the touch to graze the flesh gently. Slowly, he led Harry's palm across his arm, revealing the area marred by permanent scar, a fiery contrast against the ink of his tattoos.

Harry’s face softened, although he looked pained and concerned. But as soon Louis took his hand and slid it further down, his eyes widened. “Louis,’’

But Louis shook his head, leaving Harry’s hand on his own in between his thighs only to bring his face back in his neck, kissing the small bruise on his chin. ‘’Please,’’ He whispered.

Bringing his forehead on Louis’ shoulder, closing his eyes with both hesitation and excitation, Harry complied. The desperation in Louis’ voice was enough for him to obey, but he also needed something. He also was tortured with images of Louis’ lying inert on the ground, his wounded body cradled in his arms. He also, had been confronted with the realisation that their little bickering, would never amount to anything else, and that he couldn't afford to lose him.

The moment his fingers breached Louis went as a blur for both of them, like they were finally reconnecting. The loud breathy moan that escaped them, followed by the way their bodies shivered and arched against each other was a firm relief for them. But again, Louis was in a haste. Harry could feel him tremble above him, he could feel his despair, the need for something he couldn’t voice.

So he let him. When Louis pulled on his wrist and reached for his cock, he let him. When Louis slowly but surely sat himself on him, his eyes widening with pain but slowly fluttering with pleasure, he let him. And when Louis held the back of his head with one hand, finger clasping some strands of curls and the other, still firmly on his shoulder, he let him.

“I-’’ Louis breathed, a moan stuck in his throat. ‘’I don’t want you dead.’’ He said before rolling his hips back and forth, causing them both to wail and moan, their eyes not even daring to fall close, always searching for one another. “I don’t want you dead.’’

I’ve missed you so much.” Harry says so openly, his eyes so bright even in the dim room. “I’m sorry for lying to you.” He moaned, helping Louis in his movement with hands on his waist. “I’m sorry for not saying anything sooner.”

Louis shook his head, using the mere force of his thighs to roll his hips, not ever fully sunking down on him, keeping the head of his cock just where he needed it, rubbing against his prostate and making his whole body tremble. It became hard for them to breath and maintain eye contact, and it took Harry thrusting up for Louis to lose it. Shoving his face into Harry’s neck, he moaned, sweet and broken against his ear, his hands sliding down Harry’s back.

They were overcome and lost in each other, the rhythms of their bodies, and the slow slip and sliding of sweat as they pushed against one another. They were shaking, falling apart gradually in one another's arms.

“I don’t hate you.’’ Louis breathed out, toes curling and brows knit together,

Harry’s hips snapped forward with a moan, lip bitten tightly between his teeth in concentration both from holding back his own orgasm and making sure to keep the angle that made Louis tremble.

“It’s not hate.’’ He moaned again, his fingers grazing Harry’s lower lip, forcing his mouth open to breath in it, feeling his stomach tightened. “It was never hate.”

Harry's eyes widened, a flicker of surprise dancing across his features, absorbing Louis's words with a mix of disbelief and realisation. He had always sensed an undercurrent beneath their clashes, an unspoken tension that neither could fully articulate until this moment.

His breath catching as he absorbed the weight behind Louis's confession. "Louis, I..." His voice faltered briefly, only to be followed by a moan as Louis grinded with a bit more of intent, his whole body starting to spasm.

Unable to articulate a response, he leaned in, bridging the gap between them, and captured Louis's lips with a fervent, passionate kiss. Harry poured all of his gratitude, affection, and longing into the kiss, a silent acknowledgment of Louis's vulnerability and a recognition of the feelings that had silently thrived between them.

But kissing became hard as their climax was reaching its breaking point, their lips trembling against each other. Louis was the first to break, his body arching and his head tithing back before he came in between his and Harry’s chest with a silent moan. But Harry didn't quicken his thrust in the slightest, as he whispered praises into Louis’ ear. And as Louis’ body still hummed with pleasure, small whimpers and breaths washing against his cheek, Harry let himself go, clasping Louis against him and moaning against his shoulder.

Niall crept back into the house, followed by Oli and Luke, a hand shielding his eyes as though he feared witnessing something he couldn't unsee. His footsteps faltered as he entered the living room, only to come face to face with Zayn and Liam emerging from the small downstairs office. Liam's usually well-kept curls were dishevelled, while Zayn hastily zipped up his trousers, a flush colouring his cheeks.

Caught in a silent exchange of wide-eyed glances, Niall parted his lips, ready to blurt out something, but before any words could escape, the unmistakable sounds from upstairs—courtesy of Louis and Harry—echoed through the house.

Eyes widening in shared horror, the boys, without needing to exchange a single word, collectively decided to execute a swift retreat. With synchronised movements, they dashed for the kitchen, slamming the door shut behind them as if the mere act of closing it would shield them from the intimate cacophony unfolding upstairs.

“Um… What do we think of reheated eggs ?’’ Liam said shyly.

Niall glanced at Oli and Luke, their faces a mix of shock and amusement, before they erupted into a chorus of nervous laughter, fully aware that some things are better left unseen and unheard.

In the midst of the night, the storm raging outside, Louis was jolted awake by a distant yet distinct sound seeping through the silence of their home. Untangling himself from Harry's comforting embrace, he groped for the closest thing at hand, sliding into Liam's oversized sweater before cautiously descending the stairs, his mind still half-submerged in slumber.

The noise grew clearer as he approached the living room, his heart racing in his chest. A muffled voice, unmistakably feminine, echoed through the darkness, sending shivers down his spine. Louis hesitated, his mind racing with thoughts of potential intruders, his hand reaching out in search of something, anything, that could serve as a makeshift weapon.

Summoning his courage, he edged closer to the room from whence the sound emanated. A faint, eerie red glow emitted from the coffee table, drawing his attention. As he knelt down, a surge of worry swept over him, his gaze fixated on the blinking light of the talkie. And then, amidst the crackling static, a voice pierced the air

"Harry? Harry, it's Gemma!"

Louis froze, the initial fear morphing into a peculiar mix of relief and incredulity. It took a moment for the realisation to sink in, that the unexpected intruder was nothing more than Harry’s sister’s voice echoing through the talkie. His eyes widened when the voice called again, waiting for someone to answer. Like coming back to his senses, he stumbled for the device, the thing lipped from his fingers, clattering onto the coffee table and tumbling to the rugged floor.

“Fuck ! Harry !’’ He called behind his shoulder, getting on all four to try and reach for the device that slid down under the table. ‘’Harry!’’ He tried louder, his voice still not perfectly healed, cracking at the end. ‘’Shit.’’

The uproar in the dead of night sent Harry bolting out of bed first, his bare chest exposed, his half-tied bun barely holding on as he practically lunged down the stairs in a rush, nearly tripping in his urgency.

"Louis! Lou, where are you?" Harry's voice cracked with concern, his heart pounding in his chest as he sprinted past the others, his dishevelled appearance a testament to his frantic state.

Behind him, the rest of the boys stumbled down in a flurry of rumpled pajamas and sleep-ruffled hair, their faces a mix of alarm and confusion. "What's going on?" Liam yawned, trying to piece together the chaos.

"Is everyone alright?" Zayn called out, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, his disarrayed hair resembling a tousled nest.

Their scramble for answers came to an abrupt halt as they found Louis on all fours, a look of distress on his face, reaching for the talkie just beyond his grasp. The sight of Harry rushing to Louis's side elicited a collective sigh of relief mixed with amusement at the spectacle.

"Louis, what's happening?" Niall's voice carried a blend of concern and sleep-induced confusion.

Harry, barely catching his breath, dropped to his knees beside Louis, his eyes scanning for any sign of distress. "Are you alright? What happened?"

"Hello?! Can anyone hear me?" The voice crackled once more through the talkie, its urgency piercing the air.

Amidst the tense silence, Harry's gaze remained fixed on Louis, his lips parting as if about to speak. Then, in a moment that seemed suspended in time, Louis finally retrieved the talkie from under the table, holding it out to Harry.

Harry's attention snapped to the device, his eyes widening in disbelief.

The room fell into a hushed anticipation as Harry took the talkie from Louis, his fingers trembled slightly as he pressed down the buttons to answer, the eyes of the others fixed on him, watching the scene unfold with bated breath.

"Gemma? It's Harry," he spoke into the device, his voice carrying a blend of surprise and relief. "Are you okay ?"

‘’Oh god! Harry!?” She answered, the hint of tears audible through the interferences.

Louis sat back on his haunches, his face softening and a hand coming on Harry’s thigh as he watched him close his eyes by hearing his sister’s voice.

Behind them, Zayn stood beside Niall, who had worked on fixing the talkie, and sensing his friend's nervousness, Zayn wrapped an arm around Niall in a supportive embrace. Niall looked up at Zayn, a mixture of nerves and pride evident in his expression, grateful.

Through the crackling static, Gemma's voice emerged, filled with concern and urgency. "Harry, where are you? I've been trying to reach you.”

"Where are you, Gemma? Are you safe?" Harry's voice wavered with concern, his heart racing with worry for his sister, despite the relief of hearing her voice.

"I've been at the survivor camp for a while now, up near Sheffield, close to the sea," Gemma responded, her voice carrying a mix of relief and exhaustion. "I'm safe, Harry. But what about you? I've been trying to reach you for so long."

Harry's grip tightened around Louis's hand, seeking comfort in the reassurance of their bond. "I'm safe, Gem. We're all safe," he assured her, his voice filled with a mix of relief and determination. "I'm still with my friends. We're together, and we're taking care of each other."

The emotion in their exchange was palpable, the yearning for each other's company evident in their voices. Despite the distance and the trials they'd faced, there was an unspoken understanding between them, a bond that transcended the static of the talkie.

"I miss you, Gem," Harry confessed softly, a lump forming in his throat. "I'll be with you soon, I promise. We'll be together again."

Gemma's voice crackled through the device, choked with emotion. "I miss you too, Haz. Just stay safe, okay? I need you to come back to me in one piece."

Harry nodded, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I will. I promise. I love you, Gemma."

"I love you too, little brother." The words echoed through the static, a bittersweet reminder of their unbreakable bond, as Harry held onto Louis's hand, drawing strength from the support around him, determined to reunite with his sister once more.

As the contact went down and Harry slowly put down the talkie, his other hand still clasped around Louis’ one, he turned his head to look past his shoulder, his shiny eyes meeting Liam’s one. He swallowed, then spoke.

“We need to go there.”

Chapter 24: Luton

Chapter Text

As the boys prepared to leave Watford, their belongings strewn around in a chaotic yet methodical manner, the air buzzed with a mixture of determination and anticipation. Each of them packed their bags, essentials and sentimental items, into the Raiders' truck, ready for the journey to the North.

Zayn and Liam, working side by side, shared a quiet moment amidst the hustle. As they folded clothes and stowed away supplies, their hands brushed, and a glance was exchanged—a silent reassurance that spoke volumes. And as Zayn left the room with his backpack, he left a kiss on Liam’s shoulder, a small but affectionate gesture meant for his eyes only, eliciting a smile that spoke of a deep, unspoken connection.

In a separate room, the lively banter between Louis and Harry filled the air. Harry meticulously folded his clothes and arranged them neatly on the single bed, his methodical approach a stark contrast to Louis's carefree manner. Louis found himself buried under a heap of assorted clothing, some not even his own, his dramatic sighs muffled by the fabric.

"Do it for me Haz, be a hero," Louis pleaded, his voice muffled as he playfully wiggled among the pile, hoping to sway Harry's resolve.

Harry chuckled, shaking his head at Louis's theatrics but couldn't help smiling as he neatly folded a sweater, shaking his head at Louis's theatrics. "Do what for you, Lou?"

Lou's voice was muffled by the pile of clothing as he lifted his head slightly. "Help me pack. You know I’m horrible at it.”

Harry's expression softened, watching Louis with a mix of amusement and fondness. Setting aside his own packing for a moment, he moved closer, perching on the edge of the bed next to Louis. "You're not horrible, just a bit disorganised."

Louis peeked up from the pile of clothes, his eyes shining with playful mischief. "Well, that's a charming way of putting it, Haz.

With a gentle smile, Harry nudged Louis's arm, offering his help. "Alright, alright, I'll help. But only because I can't stand the thought of you stealing my stuff."

Louis's face lit up with a grin as he mockingly gasped. "You wound me, Harold !”

As they sat together on the bed, Louis scooted away whenever Harry reached for an item, meticulously presenting each garment for his scrutiny. His gaze lingered on Harry, admiring his focus and precision in folding every piece perfectly.

Unable to contain his smile, Louis leaned on his hands behind him, watching Harry intently. "You know, I wouldn't want to go through this with anyone else."

Harry paused, his smile widening as warmth spread across his features. "Me neither."

Downstairs, in the kitchen, their bags packed and loaded into the truck outside, the group huddled around the table where a map lay sprawled out and a simple breakfast of canned goods, eggs, and biscuits waited for them.

"We're making for Northampton," Liam declared, tracing a route on the map. "It's a straight shot, hopefully, if the roads aren't too damaged."

Zayn chimed in, concern etching his features. "We might run low on fuel. Might need to find a stop for the night and keep watch for any threats."

Despite the optimistic tone, an unspoken tension lingered in the air. The boys glanced at Louis, exchanging worried looks but hesitant to broach the topic. Zayn was the first to sense the undercurrent.

Even though the bruises on Louis's neck had faded, the scars around his wrists remained, a constant reminder of his past captivity. The faint lines spoke volumes, unnoticed by many, but not by Harry.

Harry who, in the quiet of each night, would offer comfort, praising the scar along Louis's arm, a silent acknowledgment of Louis's vulnerabilities, hidden from the rest of the group.

Surprisingly, it was Niall who broke the silence. "We stick together. No one gets left behind."

Louis paused mid-bite, his eyes wide with surprise as he observed each of the boys, then finally settling on Niall.

With a quiver in his voice, Niall lifted his hand, placing it in the centre of the table. "Together," he declared, his eyes glistening with emotion.

Bemused but touched, Louis almost dropped his fork as the rest of the boys followed suit, layering their hands atop Niall's. Harry lingered, waiting until Louis added his hand to the pile. Setting his fork down, Louis fought back the emotions welling up inside him, a lump forming in his throat.

"Together," he echoed, his voice a whisper.

As the group set off in the truck, the vehicle laden with their essentials and supplies, Liam assumed the driver's seat with Zayn beside him, navigating the directions. Meanwhile, Harry, Louis, Niall, Oli, and Luke settled in the back, surrounded by their provisions and weapons.

The journey commenced, the truck rumbling along the roads of Watford. Initially, the landscape displayed signs of post-apocalyptic turmoil. The road, now scarred with fissures and craters, testament to the passage of time and the havoc wreaked upon the region. Abandoned and dilapidated houses lined the route, their walls cracked and windows shattered, like relics of a forgotten era.

As they progressed, the scenery began to change gradually. The devastation gave way to overgrown foliage reclaiming the land. Nature had begun to reclaim its territory, vines creeping over derelict buildings, weaving through broken windows, and reclaiming the once-paved roads. The transformation was evident—the urban sprawl of ruined structures made way for forests and sprawling fields. The truck jostled along the narrow, winding roads, the main highways rendered inaccessible by the aftermath of the disaster. Zayn meticulously guided Liam with the map in his lap, tracing their path through small towns and villages.

As Louis's head began to loll, Harry instinctively reached out, gently cupping his face to prevent him from jerking awake. Slowly, he guided his arm around him, nestling Louis's head against his shoulder. With a tender touch, Harry absently stroked Louis's hair, a silent reassurance. While Harry watched the passing scenery through the window, his attention not once leaving the landscape unfolding outside, he couldn't help but feel the weight of Luke's gaze on them from behind. Luke's eyes lingered on Harry and Louis, observing the intimacy between them, his thoughts hidden behind a contemplative expression.

The journey that was meant to be a mere half-hour drive stretched into a two-hour ordeal, a testament to the challenges of navigating the obstructed and impassable roads. Each town they passed was a visual reminder of the catastrophe, the signs adorned with graffiti, and quarantine zones marked by fluttering yellow tents—ominous remnants of a past they couldn't escape.

"Guys, let's make a stop here," Zayn suggested, folding the map and indicating a spot with his finger. "There's a gas station and a few shops. We might find something to eat."

"Yeah, running low on water back here," Niall added from the backseat.

As Liam cautiously steered the truck into the gas station, everyone remained alert, wary of potential dangers lurking in the area. Harry glanced at Louis, gently brushing a finger against his nose, trying to rouse him.

"Hey," Harry greeted him with a smile when Louis's bleary blue eyes blinked open.

"Hmm," Louis mumbled, snuggling closer into the crook of Harry's arm, seemingly intent on resuming his slumber.

Harry leaned in closer, the other boys leaving the truck one by one, Knowing Louis didn’t like any display of affection in front of them, he took advantage of their privacy in the car, tenderly pressing his nose against Louis's cheek, planting a barely-there kiss on his eyebrow. "Want to stay in the car?" he whispered softly.

However, just as Louis shifted slightly, his stomach made a rather audible rumble that filled the interior of the vehicle. Both of them paused, the unexpected noise breaking the quiet moment. Louis slowly lifted his tired eyes to meet Harry's, who was struggling to hold back a laugh.

"I'd kill for a McDonald's, you know," Louis confessed with a slight smirk, nudging Harry away from him playfully as he stirred.

"I'd kill for a banana-kiwi smoothie," Harry mused, his tone seemingly in awe of the idea.

Louis halted his movement, eyeing Harry with a blend of disgust and disbelief, utterly baffled by the statement. Harry's earnestness about the smoothie, in the midst of their current situation, caught Louis off guard, prompting his retort. "You are the most disgusting person on earth."

Harry nudged him off playfully, stretching too before he opened the door of the truck, jumping out and reaching his hands for Louis to take. “Let’s go and find something to eat.’’

As Liam and Luke focused on refuelling the car with the cans of oil scavenged from the abandoned gas station, the rest of the group ventured into the rows of deserted shops and eateries, hoping to scrounge up some food.

As the boys entered the coffee shop, Oli spotted the nearby pharmacy across the street and decided to cautiously make his way toward it, hoping to find vital supplies like medications and bandages for their group. The sound of his boots crunching on shattered glass and empty medicine boxes hinted at the place having been already ransacked by previous survivors.

His focus shifted to the shelves behind the pharmacy counter, pondering the essential items without overburdening their bags. However, the distinct click of a gun safety behind him jolted Oli, his heart racing as a surge of anxiety flooded his senses. He immediately glanced out the window, hoping the others were nearby, but there was no sign of them.

"Turn around, slowly," a voice commanded from behind.

Feeling the weight of the guns pointed at him, Oli complied, slowly pivoting to face three men and a girl, their worn appearance reflecting the harshness of their circumstances.

"I'm just here for supplies," Oli attempted to reason, hoping to avoid any confrontation.

"You're not taking anything," one of them retorted firmly.

Then, the girl nudged one of the men, suggesting, "How did you get here? Maybe he has food."

Oli's mind raced, weighing the limited choices before him. With no weapon and outnumbered, compliance seemed the only plausible course of action to protect both himself and the rest of their group.

And when the bulky man got close to him to grip on his collar and forcibly pushed him towards the door with the gun aimed at his bag, a cold realisation settled in—he had no viable options.

"Take us to your car," the man demanded, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

With the gas successfully added to the car, Liam and Luke swiftly finished up and turned back, finding Niall and Zayn approaching with wide smiles, carrying a box filled with assorted food items.

"We hit the jackpot!" Niall exclaimed cheerfully, grinning as he and Zayn placed the box on the ground.

"Yeah, found some good stuff," Zayn added, sharing Niall's excitement.

Harry arrived soon after, carrying a box brimming with canned soup, his gaze scanning the area behind him. "Louis, come on," he called out, beckoning for Louis to follow.

As Harry made his way to the car, Liam helped them to stow the boxes into the trunk of the truck, relief visible on their faces as they added the newly acquired supplies to their meager provisions.

“Hey Oli ! Look what we found !” Luke called out when he finally saw Oli making his way toward them, excitement ringing in his voice.

Luke's expression quickly shifted, his face falling as he noticed something off about Oli's demeanor. Hastily, he sought Liam's attention, tapping his shoulder urgently, his gaze never leaving Oli's face.

Sensing something amiss, the boys turned to look at Oli, their expressions transitioning from curiosity to shock as they noticed the four armed individuals trailing behind him. It was evident from their worn-out attire that they were not Raiders but rather other survivors. Panic stirred within the group, and Liam discreetly retrieved his gun from the trunk, keeping his body hidden by the open trunk.

"Where's Louis?" Harry murmured urgently to Niall and Zayn, both of whom scanned the vicinity in a state of frantic worry, their attention oscillating between Oli and the potential threat looming behind him.

The armed strangers urged Oli forward, pressing their guns against his back, forcing him to walk toward the group. Despite the guns looming behind him, Oli attempted to convey a silent message to his companions through eye contact, his gaze darting between the others and the armed group, a wordless plea for caution and preparedness.

"We'll take your food and guns. Now!" one of the strangers demanded, brandishing a weapon threateningly.

"We don't want any trouble," Liam urged, attempting to defuse the situation.

"We've got nothing to spare," Harry added, his voice tight with anxiety. "We need these supplies too."

One of the strangers, their patience wearing thin, jabbed their weapon toward Oli. "We'll take what we want, or your friend here won't make it out in one piece."

Oli, standing in the midst of the standoff, tried to remain composed. "Guys, just give them what they want. It's not worth it."

Emerging from the coffee shop, Louis took a casual bite of a candy bar, his focus shifting from the treat to the sudden tense scene before him. The sight of Oli held at gunpoint and Harry facing a similar threat ignited an immediate surge of anger within him

Despite his physical fragility from his recent captivity and the ongoing effects of malnutrition, Louis refused to remain passive. Crouching behind a fallen skip bin, he muttered curses under his breath. He silently praised himself for keeping a gun concealed, though he knew Harry would disapprove if he discovered it.

Carefully and methodically, he readied the gun, concealing his movements as he peered over the bin. Determined to help his friends, he decided to advance toward the strangers, his every motion deliberate and cautious.

"We can talk!" Harry's voice rang out, his hands raised in a gesture of non-aggression.

However, the girl's agitation was palpable as she shouted, her gun gesturing wildly toward Harry. "Enough! Give us the fucking food!"

In a split-second decision, Louis sprang from behind the bin, his heart pounding in his chest. He aimed his gun at the girl, taking quick aim as the situation teetered on the edge of chaos. Before the man could pull the trigger on Oli, Louis fired, hitting her in the thigh. Her scream echoed in the air, punctuated by the surprise of the strangers, creating the perfect diversion.

As they spun around, their weapons aimed at Louis, panic surged within him. He dashed toward a nearby alley, his breaths ragged as adrenaline surged through his veins.

Harry, Oli and Liam took the occasion of the diversion to tackle the survivors, Zayn going for the girl and helping her in a sitting position after making sure to kick her weapon away from her. But as Harry literally tackled down one of the men, as he laid on top of him, wrestling against him, he saw the silhouette of Louis disappearing in an alley, followed by one of the survivors who still had his gun.

As chaos erupted around them, Harry, Oli, and Liam seized the opportunity created by Louis' diversion. Zayn swiftly moved toward the injured girl, helping her into a seated position while making sure to disarm her.

Harry, who had tackled one of them to the ground, pinning him down in a frantic struggle, caught Louis darting into an alley, closely trailed by one of the remaining survivors who clutched a gun. Panic surged within him,

“Louis!” Harry’s voice echoed through the chaos, raw with concern, drawing everyone’s attention.

Reacting swiftly, Luke sprang into action, racing past Harry and bolting after Louis. He clutched a small gun, determination etched in his expression as he pursued Louis and the survivor, disappearing into the narrow alleyways.

Harry wrestled with the man beneath him, but his focus remained divided, torn between the ongoing fight and the dire need to ensure Louis' safety. The tumultuous scene unfolded in a flurry of movement and shouts, the boys navigating the chaos in their desperate bid to protect one another.

Without hesitation, Luke sprinted past Harry, racing after Louis. “I’ve got him!” Luke yelled back, clutching a small firearm as he disappeared into the narrow alleyways.

Harry continued grappling with the man, trying to keep him down. "Stay put!" he growled, trying to prevent the survivor from breaking free. "Oli, Liam, secure them!" he shouted, gesturing towards the remaining survivors, urging his friends to subdue the threats.

Zayn, having disarmed the girl, ensured she was stable. “You’re going to be okay,” he assured her, glancing briefly at Harry’s direction. "Keep them down!" he instructed, gesturing at the other two survivors.

As the adrenaline-fueled pursuit intensified, Louis sprinted through the narrow labyrinth of alleys, his breaths ragged and heart pounding in his chest. The footsteps behind him only spurred him to push harder, desperation urging him forward.

Ahead, Luke surged through the winding alleys, his muscles burning as he chased after Louis and the pursuing man. Determination etched on his face, he manoeuvred through the twists and turns, every stride a desperate attempt to reach Louis before the stranger did.

The alleyways blurred past Louis, the uneven ground and debris threatening to trip him up. He risked a glance back, catching a glimpse of the survivor gaining ground. Fear spiked through him, fueling his resolve to outrun his pursuer as the man tempted a shot, hitting the wall next to him. As the bullet ricocheted off the alley wall beside Louis, the sound echoed in the narrow passage, intensifying his panic. He gritted his teeth, his pulse racing in tandem with his frantic steps.

Luke, not far behind, saw the alarming scene unfold. His heart pounded furiously in his chest as he witnessed the man aiming a shot at Louis. With a surge of urgency, he pushed himself harder, his lungs burning with exertion as he strained to close the gap. The sharp report of the gunshot reverberated through the alley, sending shards of debris flying. Louis' heart raced, his breaths coming in sharp gasps as he dodged, the adrenaline pumping through his veins. He veered sharply around a corner, his muscles protesting from the sprint.

Ahead, a maze of interconnected pathways lay, offering a slim chance of evading the assailant. Louis seized the opportunity, darting down a narrower alleyway, his chest heaving with exertion. He ducked under hanging laundry, leaped over debris, every movement a desperate bid to evade the danger hot on his heels.

The assailant persisted, his footsteps relentless as he pursued Louis through the maze-like alleys. His breaths ragged, the man refused to relent, determination etched in his pursuit. Luke pushed himself harder, his lungs burning with each breath.

Louis found refuge in a dark, cluttered alley, his back pressed against the brick wall. His breaths came in frantic gasps, his body trembling from exhaustion and fear. The clatter of debris underfoot echoed in the confined space as the survivor entered, his heavy footsteps drawing nearer.

"I know you're here, boy!" The man's gruff voice cut through the tense air, his tone a mixture of intimidation and triumph. "Come out, or I'll make it real messy for ya!"

Louis's heart pounded in his chest, his eyes wide with panic. He pressed a hand to his mouth, stifling his heavy breathing, praying to remain concealed. But his hope crumbled as the man drew closer, each step heavy with purpose. He cursed himself for his vulnerability, his body too weak to flee, too drained from the relentless pursuit. As the man's footsteps grew louder, Louis braced himself, his muscles tensed, ready to spring into action or defence if necessary.

Just as Louis felt a wave of despair wash over him, a sudden blur of motion exploded in the alley. Luke appeared, launching himself at the assailant, sending them both crashing to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Louis scrambled up, watching the fierce struggle unfold between Luke and their aggressor, the gun teetering dangerously between them.

A sharp gunshot echoed in the confined space, freezing Louis in terror. He called out to Luke, his voice strained with fear and worry.

"L-Luke?" Louis called out, his voice barely above a whisper as he took a hesitant step closer, his hands trembling around the gun.

Then, a slow and relieving movement caught his eye. Luke stood up, panting heavily, but unhurt. He looked down at the subdued assailant, ensuring he was no longer a threat. He approached Louis, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I'm okay, Lou. Are you alright?" Luke asked, concern etched in his expression.

Letting out a sigh, Louis threw himself into Luke’s arms, hugging him as tight as he could, pressing his head against his chest, eyes closed. "I-I'm fine, thanks to you. What... What about him?" Louis gestured toward the subdued man on the ground.

"He's out cold. We should tie him up and get out of here before he wakes up," Luke said, eyeing the man cautiously.

Relieved and grateful for Luke's intervention, Louis nodded in agreement, his heart slowly steadying as he realised they were safe, at least for the moment. With a shaky but determined breath, he moved to help Luke secure the assailant, their hands working quickly to bind the man's wrists and ankles with any available material.

The distant echoes of gunfire pierced the air, causing a flock of birds to scatter from the nearby rooftops. The sound ricocheted through the narrow alleyways, reaching Harry and the others who had managed to subdue their assailants. The abruptness of the noise sent a shiver down Harry's spine, freezing him in his tracks. His blood ran cold, a lump forming in his throat at the ominous sound.

Without a second thought, Harry made a move to bolt in the direction of the gunshots, panic seizing him like a vise. But a strong hand pressed firmly against his chest, halting his frantic advance. It was Liam, his voice firm yet filled with concern as he tried to break through Harry's daze.

"Harry, hey," Liam called out urgently, gripping his shoulder. "Calm down, mate. We need to think this through."

Harry's mind spun with a whirlwind of terror, his body trembling uncontrollably. His wide eyes were fixed in the distance, his thoughts consumed by the worst possible scenarios involving Louis. He attempted to respond, to move, but a wave of numbness washed over him, leaving him paralyzed by the sheer fear of Louis being in harm's way again. The mere thought sent a surge of helplessness through him, rendering him speechless and motionless.

But as Luke and Louis emerged from the alley, a wave of relief washed over Harry. He instinctively dropped his gun, heedless of its clatter against the concrete, and sprinted toward Louis, the others following suit, their expressions clouded with concern.

Louis noticed Harry approaching, his face etched with worry, and immediately began to disentangle himself from Luke's arm, a yearning to reach out to Harry flickering in his eyes. But he hesitated, restraining himself from displaying any affection in front of the group, unwilling to show vulnerability. Yet, Harry continued his sprint, coming to a halt right in front of Louis. He leaned in, their eyes locking, and placed his hands on Louis's shoulders, searching for any signs of injury.

"Are you okay? What happened? We heard gunshots?!" Harry's voice quivered with concern as he scanned Louis for any harm.

"I-I'm fine," Louis stammered, taken aback by the worry evident in Harry's eyes. He was shocked yet deeply touched by Harry's reaction.

In an unexpected move, Harry pulled Louis into a tight embrace, holding him close. Louis was momentarily stunned, his hands hovering in the air, unsure of how to respond.

"I know you're not a fan of this," Harry murmured, his breath warming Louis's ear. "But I need to do it."

“Wha-” Harry's lips were on his, pressing firmly, his arms tightening around him. Louis blinked, once and twice, and when Harry pulled away, his mouth was agape.

Amidst the concern and chatter, the group gathered around Luke, inquiring about what had transpired and checking on him for any injuries.

Zayn approached Louis from behind, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek. "We should leave now, guys. Let's not wait for them to wake up."

Niall chimed in, noting the weather, "And it looks like rain is on its way again."

They headed for the car, an unspoken understanding prevailing about the kiss, Zayn and Niall flanking Louis. Harry observed from behind, joining Luke with a slight delay

"Hey," Harry called out, catching Luke off guard. "Thanks. For Louis."

Luke glanced at Louis's figure walking ahead. "I'll do anything for him," he replied before heading into the truck.

The truck rolled along the road, the windows obscured by raindrops racing each other down the glass. The landscape shifted from the desolate urban ruins to more rural surroundings. Crumbling buildings and dilapidated structures gave way to open fields, dotted with the remnants of abandoned farmhouses. The signs of human habitation dwindled, and the landscape shifted into a serene expanse of untamed wilderness. Trees stood tall, their foliage forming a canopy overhead, while vast, open fields stretched out in all directions. The rain poured heavily, casting a dreary veil over the scenery.

Despite the eeriness of the desolate surroundings, a sense of tranquillity pervaded the air. The truck rumbled onward, navigating the changing terrain, as the group journeyed deeper into the wilderness. Inside the truck, Oli had taken the driver's seat, focused on navigating the winding roads ahead. Niall sat beside him, occasionally glancing at the road before turning his attention to the guitar he had picked up. His fingers danced along the strings, coaxing out a tune that blended with the rhythm of the rain against the vehicle's roof. The music provided a welcomed sense of comfort amid the gloomy weather, infusing a touch of joy into their journey. The group remained quiet, lost in their thoughts and the soft melody that filled the air.

The rain hammered down relentlessly, almost blurring the view through the windshield as the truck navigated through the roads. Darkness had descended, the sky shrouded in a deep gray veil, making the journey more challenging.

Louis and Harry, seated in the backseat, leaned over the map sprawled across their laps, navigating with a combination of familiarity and hope. Their fingers traced the roads, guiding Oli toward their chosen sanctuary for the night, the Coton Manor Garden.

"The turn's coming up, Oli," Louis called out over the drumming of rain on the car roof, pointing to a bend on the map. "We're almost there.

Harry nodded in agreement, his eyes scanning the roads for any familiar landmarks. "Just a bit further. This should be it."

Oli manoeuvred the truck along the rain-soaked roads, his gaze darting between the map and the winding path ahead. The promise of shelter at the Manor fueled their optimism, although the weather seemed intent on thwarting their journey.

"I hope this place is as good as you guys think," Oli remarked, his voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty.

"It'll be fine," Harry reassured, his voice carrying an undertone of determination. "We need a place to wait out this storm, and this Manor seems like our best bet."

The truck trundled on, tires splashing through puddles, until the looming shape of the Manor began to materialise through the curtain of rain. Its silhouette stood against the dimming sky, a beacon of potential shelter amidst the storm.

"We're here," Louis announced, a note of relief in his voice. "Just up ahead. Let's hope it's still in decent shape."

The manor, abandoned for a year, still stood proudly despite the ravages of time and neglect. Its once grand facade and lush gardens had succumbed to the wilderness, the edges of the property overgrown with unruly vegetation, vines snaking up the ornate stone walls. Yet, the architectural beauty of the structure remained apparent even in the dim light of dusk.

Oli slowed the truck to a stop at the entrance gates, peering through the rain-streaked windshield at the manor's imposing form. The tall, arched windows and intricate detailing on the exterior spoke of its former grandeur. The rain had carved trails down the weathered stone walls, but the place held an eerie elegance, even in its abandonment.

Liam smiled, "It's big enough for all of us. Let's hope it's still intact inside."

“I hope there’s water. And electricity.’’ Niall moaned.

The truck rolled past the gates and into the overgrown driveway, the crunching of gravel beneath the tires accompanying the sound of rain pelting the vehicle's roof. They found a spot to park near the entrance, the darkened windows of the manor looming over them like silent sentinels.

"Alright, who’s going down to check if it’s empty?” Oli said.

After Louis, Luke, and Liam scouted the manor, they returned to the truck to retrieve their belongings. Louis hurried back to the driver’s window, while Liam and Luke started loading their things in, rain relentlessly pelting down.

"Sorry, lads," Louis panted, joining the rush to move their belongings into the manor. "No electricity, no water, and it's freezing."

Niall's expression fell, a mix of disappointment and resignation, a sound akin to a moan and a sob escaping him as he jumped off the truck.

"It'll do for the night," Liam added, glancing around at the dusty yet somehow grand space.

Despite being drenched, they hurriedly ferried their belongings inside, finding some shelter within the echoing halls of the Manor. The grand doors closed, shutting out the rain's relentless assault, and a collective sigh of relief filled the air.

The interior of the Manor was a mix of eerie grandeur and neglect. The walls, once adorned with elegant paintings and grand décor, now bore marks of abandonment — dust-covered furniture, cobwebs in the corners, and the musty scent of disuse lingering in the air.

Harry turned his flashlight on and looked around, a mix of concern and hope flickering in his eyes. "We can make this work. We just need to get settled in."

Zayn nodded in agreement, looking out a nearby window at the relentless rain. "We should find a room to bunker down for the night. Tomorrow, we can figure out how to make this place more... habitable.

Louis led the way with his own flashlight, guiding them through the dimly lit corridors, trying to find rooms that were in the best condition. The once-majestic halls now echoed with the sound of their footsteps, the quiet whispers of the past mixing with the rustling of their movement.

Inside the only habitable room of the manor, the atmosphere was chilly despite their efforts. Harry, Liam, and Zayn gathered around, stacking wooden pieces and lighting them up in a makeshift fireplace in the centre of the room.

"We need more wood, lads," Liam muttered, rubbing his hands together for warmth.

"I'll go help Niall and Oli, see if we can get some sort of generator working," Zayn offered, already on his feet.

Meanwhile, Louis was meticulously arranging blankets, creating a warm nest-like structure in a corner. "I've made us a bed, guys. It's not much, but it should keep us warm."

Luke rummaged through the provisions they had brought, trying to piece together a meal. "We've got some canned goods and a few packs of crackers. It's not a feast, but it'll do for now."

Louis sat up, the fire's glow casting dancing shadows across the room. He glanced around at the makeshift arrangement they called a sleeping area, the hushed crackling of the fire as everyone had finally fallen asleep. His eyes lingered on Harry, peacefully sleeping beside him, and he found himself tracing the faint scar on Harry's chin, lost in thought.

Across the room, Liam sat awake, his gaze meeting Louis's. A small smile graced Liam's face, a silent acknowledgment in the quiet of the night.

"Can't sleep?" Liam whispered, offering a gentle smile.

Louis shook his head slightly. "No, not tonight."

Liam shifted, Zayn’s face lying on his lap. "I wanted to say, I'm sorry for how I acted before. I know I wasn't the most welcoming."

Louis looked at him, surprised by the apology. "It's okay, Liam. Things were tough for all of us."

"Still, I should've been better," Liam admitted softly.

Louis smiled back, his eyes filled with understanding. "Thank you for keeping an eye on both of them," he said, nodding toward Zayn and Harry. "Means a lot."

As the fire crackled softly, Louis leaned in a bit, his voice a quiet murmur. "You know, I'm sorry about blurting out about you and Harry,"

Liam shook his head. "No, honestly, it was a bit of a relief," he admitted. "We didn't have to keep hiding that part of ourselves."

“How did Zayn took it then?’’

Liam looked down fondly at Zayn’s sleepy face, tracing the shape of his nose with a finger. “Scared me to death, honestly. If I live long enough, I swear I’ll never lie again.’’

The comment made Louis chuckle, bringing a hand against his mouth to cover the sound. Next to him, Harry shifted on his back, the small sheet covering his body falling. Louis leaned in, adjusting it on his frame and unconsciously let his fingers roam into Harry’s curls, keeping his conversation with Liam.

"He's a good guy.” Louis commented, remembering the intensity of Zayn's reaction. “You’re lucky.”

Liam stayed silent for a beat, observing the way Louis was gently petting Harry’s hair. “You know, you don’t need to.. Hold back. In front of us I mean.’’ He licked his lips, gesturing for Harry. ‘’We don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, but if you have just a tiny thing you can call home, don’t ruin it for the sake of pride.’’

Louis felt his heart twitch in his chest, slowly looking down at his hand, discovering his fingers in Harry’s hand. By reflex, he wanted to take his hand away, but with Liam’s words, he kept grazing his fingers on Harry’s scalp, smiling when Harry’s nose scrunched up.

“Home…’’ Louis murmured breathily, eyes still on Harry.

Chapter 25: Wolverhampton

Chapter Text

The morning arrived with a different air, a newfound sense swirling within Louis as he stirred awake in their makeshift beds. The recent conversation with Liam and the events of the past days had unravelled something within him, breaking down certain walls that had long stood tall. He hadn't foreseen how his captivity, his absence, might have left its mark on the others, especially Harry, who seemed more affected by it than he had imagined.

For Louis, the well-being of the group was paramount. However, he couldn't ignore the growing realisation that, if their roles had reversed, if Harry had been missing, he would have moved heaven and earth to find him. As unsettling as it was to admit, it held significant meaning.

But with the electricity still absent and the overnight rain intensifying the chill in the air, they hurriedly packed their belongings in the morning, preparing to hit the road once more. Although the rain had ceased, the outside atmosphere remained dreary, the silence blending with the grim weather, creating an unsettling aura.

This time around, Harry took the driver's seat, Louis by his side, with his feet propped on the seat, legs tucked against his chest, resting his chin on his knee.

"So, Wolverhampton, yeah?" Liam inquired, a mix of impatience and excitement in his voice.

"Yeah," Zayn affirmed beside him, his hand finding its way into Liam's hair. "Visiting your house sounds like a great plan."

"God, I can't wait to take a shower," Niall lamented dramatically, tilting his head. "And Payne, do you reckon there'll be any beer left?"

"I'm not sure year-old beer is still drinkable, Niall," Louis quipped from the front.

"Try me! I'm Irish, I can handle it."

Laughter filled the car as Harry skilfully manoeuvred it backward, his hand casually resting behind Louis's headrest. As the car rejoined the road, his finger brushed against the skin on Louis's neck—a fleeting, tender touch that made Louis freeze, his entire body reacting to the sensation.

As they finally arrived in Wolverhampton, the once lively town now stood deserted, bearing the scars of the disaster that had ravaged it. Liam's heart sank at the sight of his hometown in such desolation. He felt a pang of sorrow and disbelief, his memories intertwined with the now desolate streets. Taking a deep breath, he reached for Zayn's hand, seeking comfort in his touch.

The centre of Wolverhampton, once a vibrant hub, now seemed frozen in time, a ghostly reminder of what once was. Overgrown plants peeked through cracks in the pavement, and abandoned cars lined the streets, silent witnesses to the chaos that had unfolded.

As they approached Liam's house, a lump formed in his throat. The once welcoming sight now stood as a shell of its former self. Broken windows and a collapsed porch greeted them, a stark contrast to the warm memories Liam held dear.

Zayn squeezed Liam's hand reassuringly, silently offering his support as Liam took in the heartbreaking scene. It was a moment of profound realisation, facing the harsh reality of what had befallen his hometown.

“God, it’s weird.’’ Liam chuckled.

The residential street in Wolverhampton stood eerily quiet, devoid of any signs of life or remnants of the chaos seen in other affected areas. It was an unsettling contrast to the bustling streets of London or the devastation witnessed elsewhere. The houses stood still, windows shut, and no cars lined the empty road. Harry drove until Liam signalled him to stop.

Silence enveloped them as they stepped out of the truck, a heavy air of uncertainty mingling with the familiarity of the surroundings. Louis, sensing the weight of emotions, joined the others in retrieving their belongings from the trunk without a word. They knew this moment demanded a respectful silence, an understanding of the significance of what lay ahead.

Zayn, holding Liam's hand, gave him the space he needed. They stood together, allowing Liam time to absorb the sight of his childhood home, to brace himself before confronting the reality that awaited beyond the door. With a gentle squeeze of reassurance, Zayn led Liam toward the small staircase that led to the porch. Each step seemed like a journey through time, memories flooding back with each creak of the wooden stairs.

Standing before the door, Liam took a deep breath, his hand tightening around Zayn's. The door, once an entrance to warmth and familiarity, now symbolised uncertainty and loss. With a shared glance between them, Zayn silently conveyed his support as they reached for the doorknob together.

“Welcome to the Payne’s house, guys.” As Liam welcomed the others to his family's house, his voice carried a mix of nostalgia and determination. Despite the sadness lurking in his brown eyes, his smile remained a resilient beacon, a testament to his strength.

Once inside, the house greeted them with a bittersweet embrace of familiarity and ruin. Memories adorned the walls in faded photographs, a reminder of happier times. Liam paused at a framed picture of his family, a pang of longing tugging at his heart as he traced the smiling faces captured in happier days.

"Alright," he exclaimed, clapping his hands. "We've got a generator stashed somewhere down in the basement, plenty of canned goods in the pantry, and a stash of blankets up in the attic."

Noticing Liam's hesitance, Zayn cleared his throat and took charge, aiming to lighten Liam's load.

"Niall, you tackle the generator. Harry, join him and see if you can sort out the water issue too. Bring up anything useful from downstairs. I'll handle the blankets with Luke, cleaning up the upper floors. Lou, Liam, tidy up this level. Agreed?

Everyone nodded in agreement, except for Niall, who grumbled and made a grab for some food before getting pushed towards the basement by Harry, who jokingly threatened to give him a little push down the stairs.

Louis found himself partnered with Liam, and in a hush, they got to work. Clearing tables and chairs, sweeping away shards of glass left by unsuccessful intruders, dusting off cobwebs, and everything in between. Louis hummed to himself, fully immersed in making the house spotless. Amidst the cleaning, he stumbled upon a chocolate bar and nearly sprinted to Liam, excitedly asking for permission to eat it. However, when he found Liam on his knees in the living room, tenderly cleaning a broken photo frame, he stopped and pocketed the chocolate bar for later, approaching slowly.

"Thank you for letting us crash here," he murmured, settling on the edge of the couch behind Liam.

He observed as the other boy shrugged, carefully placing the photo frame back on the small table. "We didn't really have many options. The roads to Sheffield are completely out. Our last leg has to be on foot—it's going to be tough."

"But it's still really kind of you," he insisted.

Liam rose, dusting off his knees. "My dad had stocked up on everything we might need to survive. I couldn't just let it all go to waste."

"So, did he know? Your dad?" Louis inquired.

"He was in the army. I guess, as a little kid, I just wanted to be like him," Liam explained.

"I get it, you know," Louis replied, raising a brow. "The lie bothered me more than the secret itself."

As sounds echoed from the basement, Liam glanced back before offering a smile to Louis. "I know."

The seven of them worked tirelessly, the echoes of laughter and shared camaraderie filling the once desolate home that had been left untouched for over a year during the pandemic. Dust hung thick in the air, cobwebs clung to corners, and a stale, musty odour permeated the rooms.

Within the span of a little less than two hours, they orchestrated a remarkable transformation. Armed with cleaning supplies and determination, they scrubbed, swept, and dusted every nook and cranny. Windows were thrown open to let in much-needed fresh air, while accumulated debris was bagged and removed. Their scavenging trips to towns and restaurants in the area yielded a precious collection of canned goods and supplies that were meticulously organised in the now spotless kitchen. The broken window, a stark vulnerability, was fortified by Luke with a sturdy wooden plank, offering a semblance of security against the elements.

Meanwhile, Liam ventured into the overgrown backyard, collecting weathered wood and fallen branches to revive the neglected fireplace. The idea of a crackling fire seemed like a small comfort amidst the uncertain times they found themselves in.

Amidst this revival, Harry and Niall worked tirelessly to resurrect the utilities. With determination, they manoeuvred through the dusty basement, navigating around forgotten relics of the past. Their efforts culminated in cheers of triumph as electricity hummed back to life and water flowed once more through the pipes.

When Niall emerged from the depths of the basement, a wide grin on his face, his joy was infectious. He practically bounced into the living room, Harry trailing behind with a much more bored expression.

"Beer! I found beer!" Niall exclaimed, nearly stumbling as he rushed toward the sofa where the boys were gathered, sipping tea and nibbling on crackers.

"Niall, come on, you can't drink that," Louis protested immediately.

Undeterred, Niall flashed a mischievous grin, teasingly replying, "Watch me," before deftly popping the cap off the bottle with his teeth to the amazement of the others.

The boys watched in fascination as Niall, head tilted back, eyes closed, and determination etched on his face, took a triumphant swig from the dusty bottle. In one seamless motion, he nearly emptied the entire thing, prompting Louis to watch, eyebrows reaching up to his hairline in disbelief.

When Niall finally lowered the bottle, he raised it victoriously in the air, his expression a mix of satisfaction and wincing. The room fell silent, everyone anticipating a reaction from Niall after consuming a beer that had likely been abandoned for who knows how long. But to their surprise, instead of an expected grimace or complaint about the stale taste, Niall let out an impressively loud and guttural burp that echoed through the room.

The thunderous sound startled Harry, who cringed and closed his eyes in disgust. Amidst the mixture of laughter and mild revulsion, Niall simply grinned mischievously, “Who wants more beer ?’’

The crackling flames danced in the fireplace, casting a warm glow across the room, where the seven of them gathered, settling comfortably in the living room. Some perched on the couch, others sprawled out on the floor with makeshift cushions, and a couple found solace in an armchair.

As conversation flowed, Harry and Louis unwittingly gravitated closer to each other, the gravitational pull and comfort gradually closing the gap between them. Their movements synchronised, almost as if drawn together by an invisible force, while the group engaged in stories, shared laughter, and the occasional teasing, Louis unconsciously ended up with a hand on Harry’s thigh while Harry had his fingers playing at the back of Louis’ hair.

Niall, now proudly displaying his acquired skill of mixing cocktails, took charge of the impromptu bartending. He shook up concoctions that pleasantly surprised the group, adding a touch of novelty to their evening of shared drinks and heartfelt conversations

The crackling fire seemed to serve as a catalyst for their musings about life in a survivor camp. They spoke of resilience, dreams, and hopes for a future beyond the uncertainties of their current predicament. Each contributed to the shared vision of what life could be once they reached safety, painting a vivid picture of community, support, and rebuilding.

Amidst sips of beer and sips of colourful cocktails, they shared anecdotes, swapping ideas about the skills they possessed and the ones they wished to learn. There were discussions about gardening, makeshift entertainment, and the camaraderie that would define their new beginning.

"Imagine having a garden," Oli mused, gazing into the flickering flames. "Growing our own food, creating something from scratch...

"And movie nights! We could set up a screen outside and have our own cinema under the stars," Zayn said with a smile playing on his lips.

Louis and Harry, drawn closer by the warmth of the fire and the comfort of the moment, found themselves engaged in a whispered conversation. Their words, though hushed, carried the weight of shared dreams and unspoken sentiments.

“I want to cut my hair.” Louis spoke out loud.

"Why?" Harry's brows furrowed in confusion, a hint of offence in his tone. "I think it looks great as it is."

"No, it's a mess," Louis chuckled softly, running his hand through his unruly locks.

"I think there might be scissors in the bathroom," Liam suggested.

"I could use a haircut myself," Luke chimed in.

"I could be the barber!" Zayn exclaimed, enthusiasm lacing his words.

With unanimous agreement, the impromptu decision turned into a makeshift salon session. Zayn took charge, armed with scissors and a clipper, eager to turn their living room into a grooming haven.

Oli, Luke, and Niall enthusiastically volunteered for the transformation, settling into chairs and makeshift seats as Zayn donned an imaginary barber's cape, ready to work his magic.

In the makeshift salon setting, Louis took his turn in the chair, guiding Zayn with subtle gestures on how he wanted his hair styled. As Zayn prepared to work his magic, Harry's playful protest resonated from where he sat on the floor.

"Don't cut them too short," Harry pouted, his gaze fixed on Louis.

Zayn, with a fond smile that betrayed his amusement at the dynamic between the two, glanced between Louis and Harry, waiting for their decision. Instead of opting for his usual skin fade style, the one he had when it all began, Louis simply requested a shorter cut that wouldn't reveal his scalp, aiming to honour Harry's preference.

Under the flickering firelight, amidst laughter and banter, Zayn deftly handled the scissors and clipper. The room filled with teasing protests and mock gasps as the hairstyles transformed. But when Zayn finished with Louis, the room fell momentarily silent, the boys gaping in awe as Louis shook his newly trimmed hair and ruffled his fingers through the shorter locks.

"Looking good, mate," Oli remarked, taking a sip of his beer.

Louis returned to Harry, settling down next to him on the floor, instinctively draping an arm around his shoulder. Their closeness felt natural, as if they had always sat this way. Louis glanced at Harry, a playful glint in his eye.

"Is it to your liking?" he inquired, a hint of mischief in his tone.

"You look like a hedgehog," Harry blurted out, unable to hide a cheeky grin. Yet, his eyes twinkled with affection as he gazed at Louis.

Zayn hesitated for a moment when Liam, with his long curly locks cascading down his chin, requested a buzz cut. The contrast between the requested style and Liam's usual curly mane seemed to give Zayn pause. Nonetheless, he took a deep breath and with a determined nod, he started to work on Liam's hair.

As the clippers hummed, the curls fell away, the sound echoing in the room. Liam's transformation was met with a mix of surprised gasps and murmurs of encouragement from the others. The cosy ambiance of the room held a distinct energy, a blend of anticipation and curiosity as the familiar curls diminished under Zayn's careful guidance.

Despite Zayn's initial reluctance, his deft hands worked skillfully, sculpting Liam's hair into the requested buzz cut. As the last of the curls fell, Liam glanced at his reflection, a grin slowly spreading across his face. The novelty of his new look brought a wave of self-assuredness, evident in the sparkle of his eyes and the newfound confidence in his demeanour.

"I feel like a new man!" Liam chuckled, admiring his fresh trim.

"This is amazing!" Luke grinned, running a hand through his newly styled hair.

Niall, sporting a trimmed look, nodded in approval, "I might just keep it this way."

“Can someone do mine now ?’’ Zayn asked. He chuckled at the boys' hesitance, waving the clipper in his hand as he teased, "Come on, I promise I won't bite."

The room fell silent until Harry, breaking the tension, volunteered, "I'll do it." He rose from the floor, confidently taking the clipper from Zayn's hand.

With a nod of gratitude, Zayn settled into the chair, his once long, thick, straight hair falling down his chin. As Harry carefully manoeuvred the clipper, the hum filled the room, marking the beginning of Zayn's transformation.

The familiar sensation of the buzzing clippers sent shivers down Zayn's spine, the weight of his hair fading away with each pass. The room was hushed, eyes fixed on the unfolding change. As locks of hair fell to the floor, the others couldn't help but exchange glances, anticipation hanging thick in the air. With each swipe of the clippers, Zayn's transformation was underway. His hair receded to reveal a surprising addition—a striking tattoo etched across his scalp. The buzz cut uncovered the intricate artwork, the design weaving across his head, a mesmerising sight that none of them had seen before.

As Harry finished the cut, Zayn ran a hand over his newly shorn hair, feeling the breeze on his scalp and the newfound lightness. With a grin, he turned to the mirror, admiring the buzz cut that now matched Liam's. The tattoo, a stunning masterpiece, stood out against his exposed scalp, adding a new layer of intrigue to his appearance.

“You look good.’’ Liam whispered from behind him as he let a kiss on his neck.

“It’s-’’ Niall stopped, watching them behind his beer. ‘’Weird and hot at the same time.”

As the others busied themselves with shaving their facial hair, Liam was the first to finish, heading upstairs to tidy up the living room after the impromptu salon session. Laughter and chatter echoed from upstairs as the remaining boys continued their grooming ritual. In the living room, Harry sifted through the dusty cabinet, stumbling upon a forgotten photo album amidst the books. His smile widened as he flipped through the pages, encountering pictures of him and Liam during their high school days, captured moments with Liam's parents, and then, unexpectedly, a recent picture of himself and his mom.

A pang of sadness gripped Harry's heart as he gazed at the image, a bittersweet reminder of the life he had left behind. The warmth of the fireplace couldn't chase away the sudden chill that enveloped him, his eyes fixed on the photo, lost in memories and longing.

Just then, Liam returned, breaking Harry's reverie. Startled, Harry hastily put the album aside, trying to mask his emotions. He got up abruptly, his face pale and his eyes wide and red, shuffling past Liam and walking for the main door.

"Harry, wait," Liam called out, hastily letting go of whatever was in his hands, following Harry to the door.

Still reeling from the unexpected surge of emotions, he struggled to compose himself. "I-I'm sorry, I just need some air," he stammered, his words faltering as he avoided Liam's gaze

Liam reached out, attempting to ease Harry's obvious distress. "Hey, it's okay. You don't have to go out alone," he urged softly.

But Harry, unable to articulate his feelings, offered only a shaky smile. "I'll be back soon," he muttered before slipping out the door, leaving Liam standing in the hallway with a sense of unease.

The bathroom was alive with the chatter and banter of the boys, resembling a high-spirited scene from their school days. Jokes were exchanged, mock fights ensued, and amid the chaos, each boy took turns shaving, leaving behind a trail of foam and laughter.

As the shaving sessions concluded, the bathroom gradually emptied until only Luke and Louis remained. The air shifted, the lighthearted ambiance giving way to a more intimate moment between the two childhood friends. Sensing Luke's struggle, Louis stepped in, offering to help shave down the area beneath Luke's chin. They leaned in close, a comfortable silence settling between them, interrupted only by the gentle scrape of the razor and the hum of their quiet conversation.

Their reminiscences drifted back to their shared past, recalling moments of mischief and camaraderie that bound them as childhood best friends. The nostalgia lingered in the room, weaving through their conversation as they relieved cherished memories.

As Louis finished shaving and straightened up, Luke's smile faltered, replaced by an intense gaze fixed on Louis. There was a palpable shift in the atmosphere, a tension hanging between them as they held each other's gaze.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, Luke made a move, leaning in as if to kiss Louis. Shocked and taken aback, Louis swiftly pulled away, his expression a mix of surprise and frustration. His eyes flashed with a hint of anger, a tumult of emotions clouding his features.

"Luke, what are you doing?" Louis' voice was firm, tinged with disappointment.

Luke's expression shifted, torn between regret and a deep longing. "I can't help it," he began, his voice tinged with desperation. "I can't stop thinking about you, Louis."

Louis's features contorted with a mix of frustration and hurt. "Luke…" he sighed.

"Harry doesn't understand you like I do," Luke persisted, his voice cracking with emotion. "We've always been there for each other. Can't you see?"

Louis shook his head, his frustration mounting. "This isn't right, Luke. You know it isn't," he said, his words tinged with a touch of betrayal. "You can’t say that."

Feeling a wave of anger and confusion, Louis swiftly left the bathroom, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Louis arrived downstairs and, before entering the kitchen, he took a moment to collect himself, rolling his shoulders and putting on a forced smile. As he joined the guys, they were busy in the kitchen, Niall offering him a beer.

"Thanks, mate," Louis replied with a smile, taking a seat next to Niall.

When Liam entered the kitchen, followed by Zayn with the faint smell of cigarettes clinging to him, Liam's steps faltered upon seeing Louis. Liam avoided his gaze, heading for the cupboard.

Louis frowned, glancing around. "Where's Harry?"

Liam froze mid-action, sighing. He turned toward Louis, nodding toward the window. "He... went out."

The kitchen fell into a sudden stillness. All eyes turned to Liam as Luke stepped in, his gaze sweeping the room.

"What do you mean he went out?" Louis's voice sharpened, his expression growing serious.

Liam sighed again, seeking refuge in Zayn's silence, before explaining, "He... he saw something, and then he just left."

Louis's features hardened. "And you let him go out alone?" He stood up, facing Liam. "Did he take anything with him? What did he see?"

Liam avoided eye contact, causing Louis's frustration to spike. "What did he see?" Louis demanded, his voice rising.

"A picture of his mom," Liam finally confessed.

Louis felt a pang of worry twist his insides. Without hesitation, he stormed toward the entryway console, grabbing a gun. He disregarded the need for warm clothing, unlocking the door and swinging it open with urgency.

"Lou! I'm coming with you," Luke hurried after him, grabbing a coat.

Louis turned sharply, stopping Luke in his tracks. "No," he stated firmly, locking eyes with Luke. "You stay here and mind your business. I've got a talkie. If I'm not back in an hour, come for me."

Without waiting for further discussion, Louis dashed out.

Louis stormed out of the house, the frigid air stinging his skin as he braved the cold in only a thin tank top. He scanned the deserted street, the silence amplifying the urgency of his search. Instinct guided him, and without a moment's hesitation, he headed left, a sense of determination pushing him forward in his quest to find Harry. As he ventured down the empty road, the fading sun cast an ethereal glow, illuminating the desolate surroundings. And there, at the end of the street, Louis spotted Harry, seated on the pavement, a bottle of vodka in his hand and a pack of cigarettes scattered nearby. Harry's gaze was fixed on the horizon, the vanishing sun mirroring the turmoil in his soul.

Relief washed over Louis at the sight of Harry, yet anger simmered within him at Harry's reckless behaviour. Despite his frustration, Louis closed the distance, settling down next to Harry without a word. He gently took the bottle from Harry's fingers, bringing it to his own lips, silently sharing in Harry's pain.

Harry remained fixated on the horizon, his silence speaking volumes. Louis felt a surge of conflicting emotions—concern, frustration, and an underlying sense of protectiveness. His gaze shifted from the fading sun to Harry, his heart aching for his friend's turmoil.

"It's funny, don't you think?" Harry began. "How we used to wake up, go to work, and come back home. Have a few drinks with friends. I'd wake up late on Sundays to missed calls from my mom and my sister's, always telling myself I'd call them back. I used to complain about traffic, weather, bills, and taxes. Now that everything is just... those big grey clouds, and every day just goes by the same, it feels like I wasted so much time."

Harry opened up, his words echoing with regret and longing. Louis listened intently, allowing Harry's emotions to flow freely without interruption.

"There's still so many things I didn't get to experience. I didn't go to university. I didn't buy a car, rent a flat. I didn't travel. I didn't make mistakes, play around, laugh enough. I... I did not love. Or got to be loved."

When Harry's voice cracked, Louis felt a pang in his chest. He gently placed the bottle aside, shifting to sit between Harry's legs, preventing him from wiping away his tears. Their eyes met, and in that moment, Louis realised the weight Harry carried—the burden, the fear, and the missed opportunities.

"It's not too late," Louis reassured, wiping Harry's tears away, his thumb brushing Harry's lower lip gently.

Harry's gaze held uncertainty. "How could we know?" he whispered, his voice trembling.

"What do you feel now?" Louis probed, his eyes searching Harry's, seeking his truth.

Harry took a moment, meeting Louis's gaze unwaveringly. "Warm," he confessed softly.

"You don't have to carry the world on your shoulders," Louis insisted tenderly, his touch soothing against Harry's cheek. "You don't have to shoulder all this responsibility, not for Liam, not for Niall, not for me. You're allowed to make mistakes, to feel. Not everything is your fault. My ankle wasn’t your fault. Zayn, or Niall wasn’t your fault. Simon-’’ When Harry's gaze flickered away at a certain name, Louis gently cupped his face, ensuring their eyes met, a silent understanding passing between them. “Simon was not your fault.”

Harry's hand found Louis's, their connection grounding him in the moment.

“You don’t need to take care of everyone. You don’t need to save everyone. You don’t need to make sure everyone drinks and eat before you do. You don’t need to let everyone use clean clothes and keep the dirty ones for you. You don’t need to pretend you are fine when you are hurting.” Harry confessed, his voice a vulnerable admission of a long-held fear.

Louis chuckled softly, his touch gentle as he traced Harry's face with his thumb, his eyes filled with fondness and tenderness. "It's not too late," he repeated, his voice carrying a reassuring tone.

Moving closer, Louis closed the distance until their noses touched, a tender moment of intimacy. With unspoken understanding, they finally leaned in, their lips meeting in a gentle, hesitant kiss.

As the night wore on, Harry and Louis returned to the quiet house, the rest of the occupants lost in slumber. Without a word, they found their way to the same bed, slipping under the covers as if by unspoken agreement. In the comfort of the familiar, Harry nestled himself into the curve of Louis's arm, their bodies fitting together as though they'd danced this routine countless times before.

When Louis sat up, still entangled in sleep's haze, he noticed Harry wasn't beside him. Wrapping himself in his blanket like a makeshift cape, Louis cautiously manoeuvred past Niall and Oli, asleep on makeshift beds on the floor, tiptoeing across the cold wooden floor of the house, in search.

Navigating the unfamiliar space, it took Louis some time before he found Harry. And when he did, he almost let the blanket slip from his shoulders.

There stood Harry in the kitchen, an unassuming figure with his long curls tied in a bun, shirtless, clad in low-slung grey joggers. He was attempting to coax the coffee machine into action, a small furrow etched between his brows as he focused on the task. Louis hadn't realised they had managed to restore electricity in the house, but at that moment, it hardly mattered.

Louis was about to break the silence, about to articulate his thoughts, but the faint sound of Harry's humming stopped him short. That's when he let the blanket fall to the floor.

"If I lay here..." Harry's soft humming filled the air, his fingers gently tapping the coffee machine before he leaned back, one hand resting casually on his hip, the other tugging lightly at his bottom lip.

The sound of the blanket's descent grabbed Harry's attention. He turned his head toward the noise, initially surprised but then gradually breaking into a smile. "Good sleep?" His question held genuine curiosity, unaware of the storm of emotions swirling in Louis' mind.

Louis found himself standing, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts that he couldn't seem to control. His gaze fixated on Harry, who moved around the kitchen, barefoot and searching through the high cupboards. Harry stretched, standing on tiptoes, his back expanding and shoulders rolling. Louis felt his throat tighten as Harry placed two mugs on the counter.

"Are you having this coffee now?" Louis asked, his morning voice still raspy from sleep, his eyes fixed on Harry, waiting for his response.

Turning to Louis with a puzzled expression, Harry finally noticed the blanket on the floor and Louis' wide black eyes. His own expression shifted, a slight gulp betraying his own nerves. "Um... No?"

"Yeah," Louis exhaled deeply, feeling his chest rise and fall with the intensity of the moment.

They stood there for a bit, staring at each other, the distance between them seeming both far and too close. Louis tempted a gaze outside, watching as the rain poured down in the garden, his eyes settling on the small garden shed at the far end of the garden.

When he brought back his eyes on Harry, he, on purpose, let his gaze roam down his body, licking his lips with lust and looking back for his eyes. Without speaking, he made his way for the glass door of the kitchen, pushing it open and turning in front of Harry.

"It's pouring out there.'' Harry called, his own voice lacking in intensity, turning around to follow Louis' path.

But Louis only gave him a small smirk, and stepped back an inch, letting the rain pour down on him as he grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and slowly raised it above his head, shaking his now damp hair.

"What are you-'' Harry stopped when Louis brought his hands on the waistband of his trousers, gulping again. He tempted a look toward the corridor, as if he could detect if anyone could see them.

When he looked back, Louis was out of his trousers, his whole body completely wet, slightly shivering. Louis took one step back, then another, and another, his eyes the only thing speaking to Harry, asking him to follow.

And blindly, Harry's hands fell from the counter he was leaning on, his feet leading him out without a second thought. Together, they ran under the rain, barefoot and half naked, laughing and giggling, Louis pushing Harry inside the small shed and slamming the door behind them.

As Liam stirred from his slumber, he shuffled into the kitchen, his tummy demanding attention. With one eye barely open, he stumbled over Louis's haphazardly discarded blanket. Startled, he glanced up to find Zayn perched on the counter, cradling a steaming cup of coffee, a smile illuminating his face as he observed Liam's endearing morning clumsiness.

"Easy there, babe," Zayn greeted, a soft chuckle accompanying his outstretched hand offering support to Liam.

Rubbing his eyes, Liam grinned sheepishly. "What happened here?"

Zayn's laughter serenaded the quiet morning air. "Looks like someone had a bit of fun," he quipped, nodding toward the glass door. Liam moved closer, planting a gentle kiss on Zayn's jaw before his gaze widened at the sight of scattered damp clothes in the garden.

"Whoa," he chuckled.

Zayn ran his fingers through Liam's short hair, nails racking at his skin while taking a sip from his cup. He then extended it toward Liam's lips, inviting him to share the coffee.

Nestling in closer, Liam wrapped an arm around Zayn's waist as he accepted the cup. "Mmm, coffee and you. Perfect wake-up combo."

Zayn placed a tender kiss on Liam's temple. "Couldn't agree more."

Liam's sigh echoed softly in the room, his forehead finding its place against Zayn's chest. "We need to plan today," he murmured, his voice tinged with a sense of responsibility.

Zayn remained silent for a moment, relishing the closeness, the comfort of the moment shared between them. His eyes closed, savouring the fleeting tenderness, selfishly wishing to prolong this moment of sanctuary within the safety of the house, cherishing the presence of Liam in his arms. "Yeah," he replied softly, acknowledging Liam's words with a weight of understanding.

"It's not going to be easy," Liam stated, his posture straightening with a sense of resolve. "It's a three-day journey on foot until we reach the camp, if we manage to find it. And... we don't know what's waiting for us out there."

"Nothing can stop us now."

Chapter 26: National Park

Chapter Text

In the embrace of a January or perhaps a February chill, the air clung with a biting cold, the dry mud underfoot whispering tales of their transient respite. These moments, however fleeting, failed to provide solace for the boys, knowing it marked their final reprieve before the inevitable return to camp.

A peculiar sensation loomed over each of them.

A year spent chasing the elusive hands of time, grappling with the constant dread of not waking or losing a friend had condensed into this singular pause. The promise of victory shimmered tantalisingly close—a reunion, a sanctuary from ceaseless flight and perpetual fear. Yet, within the contours of anticipation and closure, an overwhelming weight bore down upon them. They stood on the brink of an ultimate trial, veering away from urban sprawls and towering edifices towards untamed expanses—plains, forests, lakes—an uncharted canvas awaiting their fate.

The imperative to reach the camp, united and unbroken, was undisputed.

But certainty eluded them, for the imperative did not ensure their capability.

In the sanctuary of Liam's childhood home, the final vestige of safety they clung to, the group busied themselves with preparation. They meticulously gathered their gear, ensuring every tool and weapon was at the ready, embodying a collective determination tinged with nervous anticipation. Strategies were outlined and revised, a testament to their unity and resilience in the face of the impending challenge. Amidst the ruins, those three days unfolded as a brief respite—a rare interlude of rest, warmth, and sustenance. Within those precious hours, amidst shared meals and the comfort of hot showers, a subtle evolution coursed through the group.

As they trudged through the frost-laden paths, their breaths forming small clouds in the crisp air, the weight of uncertainty clung to their every step. The camaraderie that had seen them through the darkest of times now served as both their beacon of hope and their Achilles' heel. Their weary eyes scanned the unfamiliar landscape, trading the concrete jungle for untamed nature. Gone were the towering structures that once encapsulated their lives; now, open vistas and uncharted wilderness lay ahead, veiled in mystery.

The journey to the camp promised sanctuary, a respite from the chaos that had become their norm. Yet, as they pressed forward, the gnawing truth lingered. Survival wasn't just about physical endurance. It was about preserving the fragile unity that bound them together. The unspoken understanding among them hung heavy—a silent pact to weather this final trial united. Each step forward echoed with the unspoken fear that one misstep could sever the thread that held their destiny, their collective future.

In the wake of the military's drastic measure to dismantle the country's bridges, the boys faced an inevitable departure from Wolverhampton, leaving behind their vehicle in the desolate reaches of Hanley, Staffordshire's countryside. Dawn had marked their departure from Wolverhampton, the sky cloaked in obsidian hues, the air pregnant with a stillness that mirrored their uncertainty.

Amidst the quietude, they convened in the bed of their truck, breaking the morning's silence with homemade sandwiches, a humble sustenance that fortified them for the journey ahead. As they secured their boots, adjusted their coats, and slung their backpacks onto their shoulders, each one fastened a Talkie to their waist—a lifeline should unforeseen circumstances force them apart.

Their path to Sheffield threaded through the National Park, a passage that demanded four hours of trekking on foot. The looming expanse of the park beckoned, promising both hardship and possibility. Sleep would become a distant luxury as they forged ahead, their resolve tethered to the next city marked on their map.

Liam slammed the truck door shut, commanding the attention of the assembled boys. "We've got a four-hour hike through the Park," he declared, unfurling the map across the hood. His finger traced the park's expanse, an uncharted territory that loomed ahead. "We’ll have to be careful. We've no idea what's in there," he cautioned, his gaze fixated on the map.

A hush enveloped the group as they clustered around the map, a tangible aura of apprehension stifling any attempt at conversation. They sensed the gravity of the journey awaiting them—the most formidable challenge yet.

"Regardless of what comes our way, we stay together," Zayn asserted, slinging his bow over his shoulder and shrouding his face from the biting cold with his hood. "If anyone needs a breather, speak up."

Nods circulated among them, fingers checking equipment, and shoulders bracing for the arduous trek. Yet, Zayn's gaze lingered on Louis, his hazel eyes meeting Louis's expectant stare.

"Louis," Zayn called out firmly.

"Hmm?" Louis responded absentmindedly, lighting a cigarette, his brows furrowing against the numbing cold.

"If you need to stop, just say it," Harry interjected, completing Zayn's unfinished sentence.

The unresolved tension thickened the air as Louis offered no response to his friends' concern. Instead, smoke billowed from his lips, a cloud that rudely intruded on Harry's space, prompting him to wave a hand in front of his face to disperse the acrid scent.

"Let's move," Liam commanded, his grip tightening on his gun as he checked it one final time before setting off.

As the boys departed from Hanley, a quiet determination enveloped them, the cold mid-January air stinging their cheeks. The countryside sprawled before them, a patchwork of frosted fields and skeletal trees standing stark against the wintry backdrop. The sky, a canvas of muted greys, hinted at the possibility of sunlight veiled behind a shroud of clouds.

Their footfalls echoed in the stillness, the crunch of dry leaves and frost underfoot creating a cadence that synchronised with their resolute march. Barren branches reached upward like skeletal fingers, etching a haunting silhouette against the pale sky.

The landscape unfolded, revealing undulating hills and valleys dressed in muted tones of brown and faded green, a stark contrast to the vibrant tapestry of life that would emerge in the spring. Despite the desolation, a raw beauty lingered in the austerity of the scenery.

After enduring long hours of trekking, punctuated by Louis's colourful complaints about the weather, the muddy terrain, his aching muscles, and almost everything else imaginable, the boys finally arrived at the gates of the National Park.

Before them sprawled an expansive panorama of nature's splendour— greens, lakes, towering trees, and sprawling plains stretching endlessly. Louis, lagging behind the others, paused to survey the scene, his gaze tracing the vastness before him. Inhaling deeply, he welcomed the biting cold that nipped at his cheeks, finding solace in the quietude and the peculiar serenity that enveloped him.

Nature, in its relentless march, had begun to reclaim its sovereignty over the once-manicured landscapes. Trails and pathways, once meticulously maintained, now lay concealed beneath a tangle of overgrowth—twisting vines and unruly foliage creating an intricate web that obscured familiar routes. The absence of human footfalls had granted the wild free rein to flourish unchecked.

The park's amenities bore the unmistakable scars of abandonment. Weather-beaten wooden signposts stood sentinel, their once-vibrant paint now weathered and peeling under nature's unrelenting assault. Rest areas and idyllic picnic spots lay in disarray, engulfed by a shroud of wild growth that masked their erstwhile inviting appeal.

Tranquil lakes and ponds, once reflective mirrors of the sky, now wore a film of neglect and algae, disturbed only by sporadic gusts of wind. The usual symphony of wildlife—the melodious chirping of birds, the gentle rustle of creatures in the underbrush—had retreated into a disconcerting silence.

"It's so quiet," Niall whispered, jolting Louis from his contemplation.

Pressing onward into the park, the group's senses remained attuned, their eyes scanning the surroundings for any hint of unfamiliar movement, an air of anticipation hanging heavy in their cautious steps.

The forest within the National Park sprawled in a vast expanse of greens, a tapestry woven in hues of oranges and yellows as fallen leaves crunched beneath their boots. Winter-stripped branches reached upward, their slender silhouettes allowing the sun's rays to filter through, creating a stillness that painted the scene with an ethereal beauty.

Amidst this serene backdrop, Niall and Oli indulged in light banter, their laughter intertwining with the rustling of the trees. Their playful exchange added a lively melody to the tranquillity enveloping the woods. Meanwhile, Zayn and Liam walked in close proximity, their hushed whispers carrying a sense of shared understanding and purpose.

Louis, finding solace in the calmness of the moment, strolled at the back of the group. His hands buried deep within the pockets of his black bomber jacket, the hood of a red sweater peeking out, cocooning his ears against the chilly air. He observed the boys' camaraderie with a sense of belonging, cherishing the sunlight filtering through the wintry branches even amidst the cold.

Thoughts of the upcoming reunion at the camp warmed his heart—his mother's embrace, the laughter of his sisters—eliciting a genuine smile from him.

But then, Louis's gaze gravitated toward Harry, trailing the gentle movements of curls escaping from his bun, the fabric of a balaclava tied around his wrist swaying with his steps. Memories flickered through Louis's mind, from their initial encounter to the skirmishes and disagreements they had weathered together. A pang of gratitude pierced his chest as he pondered the integral role Harry had played in his life during this nightmarish journey.

His contemplation was interrupted as Harry, unexpectedly, halted in his tracks. The other boys continued, oblivious, while Harry turned, seemingly meeting Louis's gaze knowingly. With the familiar self-assured stride that was uniquely Harry's, he sauntered toward Louis, causing a sudden knot in Louis's chest and an inexplicable flurry in his heart. Louis swallowed hard, the proximity intensifying the erratic rhythm of his heartbeat, a sensation only Harry could evoke.

With Harry stepping closer, Louis halted, compelled to lift his gaze to meet his. They stood locked in a silent exchange, mere inches apart, the gap between them a small breath's distance. Yet, words eluded them.

Louis found himself entranced by the sight before him, his lips parting in realisation. The winter sun lent an ethereal glow to Harry's green eyes, a fusion of golden and brown flecks sparking within them. Delicate strands of hair framed his features, the stray curls adding an air of youthful innocence to his countenance. Louis felt the tempo of his heart escalate, his eyes unable to break their fixation on Harry's, a magnetic pull he couldn't resist.

"What?" Louis uttered, his voice sounding foreign even to his own ears.

In response, Harry's lips curved into a small, genuine smile, etched with dimples that bespoke a hidden tenderness. Stepping forward, Harry withdrew his hands from his pockets, extending them toward Louis' face. A rush surged through Louis as Harry's hands came to cup his cheeks.

"Nothing," Harry replied, barely audible, his touch exuding warmth that defied the cold air enveloping them.

Louis felt a sudden rush of heat spread from his cheeks to his entire being, a soothing comfort washing over him. Harry's thumbs started to trace gentle strokes along his cheekbones, coaxing a desire within him to close his eyes and savour the safety and solace Harry's touch offered. And as Louis was ready to ask, wanting to question the sudden affection, Harry brought his lips to his.

In a tender, delicate open mouth kiss, Harry took Louis’ lips between his plump ones, a barely there press of their mouth before he pulled away.

Louis felt a whirlwind of emotions swirl within him, each one like a whisper of realisation brushing against his soul. The delicate brush of Harry's lips against his own lingered as a soft imprint, a fleeting sensation that left an indelible mark on his heart.

As the forest enveloped them in its serene embrace, a quiet turmoil brewed within Louis. His mind swirled with thoughts, a cascade of feelings he struggled to decipher. His heartbeat, once a rhythmic melody, now echoed erratically in his chest, its tempo matching the unspoken turmoil within him.

Louis couldn't help but acknowledge the warmth that bloomed in his chest at the mere thought of Harry's affection. A realisation, soft and subtle, tiptoed through his mind, hinting at something deeper, something he hadn't fully explored or acknowledged before.

Lost in thought once again, he came back to his senses when he felt Harry withdraw his hands from his face. Hastily, he removed his hands from his pockets and brought one on Harry's elbow and one behind his neck. Rising up on tiptoes, he took Harry's lips between his, finally letting his eyes close.

He was instantly met with Harry's lips pressing back against his and his hands returning to his cheeks. Once again, scorching flashes tore through his body, causing his heart to race.

Their kisses had always been a tempest, a whirlwind that mirrored the stormy nature of their relationship. Softness and tenderness had been foreign in their passionate exchanges—those intimate moments were never about gentleness, but a convergence of raw emotion and unbridled fervour. They thrived on the ferocity of their embraces, devoid of tranquillity or gentle caresses. Their encounters crackled with a primal energy, an intensity that fueled their intertwined existence.

In their world, kisses were laden with purpose—they stemmed from emotions, desires, and at times, the chaotic clash of conflicting feelings. That's why this kiss felt so jarringly out of place for Louis. It stirred emotions he couldn't articulate, leaving him lost in the waves of unfamiliar sentiments within Harry's embrace. He found himself in uncharted territory, navigating emotions he couldn't articulate, sentiments that eluded the confines of his understanding.

The moment felt surreal, a deviation from the passionate tumult they had always shared. And yet, despite the unfamiliarity, Louis found an undeniable comfort in the warmth of Harry's embrace, in the gentle brush of their lips, in the tenderness that bloomed in the air between them.

This tender, unexpected kiss felt like a departure from their norm—a departure that left him grappling with unfamiliar sensations and unspoken desires. He savoured the moment, relishing the intimacy that enveloped them, and, in the recesses of his mind, he glimpsed a future where such moments might recur more often than he dared admit. It was a realisation that danced on the edge of his consciousness, one that he couldn't fully embrace but couldn't entirely dismiss either.

"Hey, lovers!" Niall's voice reverberated through the woods, startling both Harry and Louis, eliciting from them a chuckle laced with embarrassment.

"Give it a rest, Niall," Louis retorted, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips, secretly hoping his flushed cheeks were camouflaged by the wintry chill.

"Some people are trying to survive here!" Oli added, the laughter of the boys trailing after his comment.

Casting one more shared glance, Harry exchanged a subtle nod with Louis. Louis responded with a tentative smile before they silently and slowly made their way toward the group, each attempting to quell the racing beats of their hearts.

Niall chuckled, casting a playful glance at Zayn. "So, Zayn, any chance you can serenade us with a woodland melody?"

Zayn smirked. "Sure, if you want the squirrels to start a protest."

"Let's save the concert for when we're not in zombie territory, yeah?" Liam asked with a roll of his eyes.

Louis, scanning the trees, quipped, "I swear, if one of these trees turns out to be a zombie, I'm officially done with surprises."

"Hey, careful, mate. You might offend the zombie trees." Oli, teasingly, nudged Louis.

On the other side, Harry nudged him too. "I think I heard those zombie trees are big fans of sarcastic comments."

Amidst the banter, Zayn motioned to a dense thicket ahead. "Guys, quiet for a sec. I think I heard a squirrel mocking my singing skills."

Louis chuckled. "That's not a squirrel, mate. That's your self-esteem running away."

Niall's contagious laughter rippled through the air, echoing against the trees. The infectious sound reverberated through the woods, an unintended beacon in the serene setting. Their voices carried with abandon, filling the forest with their exuberance.

Suddenly, amidst the joviality, a change in the atmosphere jolted their carefree spirits. A haunting silence descended, the birds ceased their song, and the rustling leaves fell still. A collective unease settled upon the boys as a faint, distant rustling emerged from the depths of the forest. Zayn, attuned to the subtle nuances of the wilderness, paused abruptly, a faint, distinctive sound prickling his senses. Unsure at first, he hesitated to voice his concern.

A distinct rustling, the sound of footsteps on dried leaves, echoed in the silence, catching Zayn's attention more distinctly this time, but also Harry’s one, a furrow of concern etched on his face. "Guys, do you hear that?"

With a swift, commanding gesture, Zayn halted Liam and Louis in their tracks, his finger pressed against his lips, signalling for absolute silence. Slowly, methodically, he retrieved an arrow from the quiver on his back, nocking it on his bow with a practised ease.

The other boys, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, mirrored Zayn's caution, forming a protective circle on the forest path, their eyes darting to the thickets and shadows around them.

Tension hung heavy in the air, the silence broken only by the soft rustle of leaves and the collective hushed breaths of the group. Every nerve was on edge, anticipation gripping them as they strained to discern any signs of movement.

A chilling chorus rode the breeze, piercing the tranquillity that once enveloped the forest—the distinct moaning and grunting of the creatures. Long before venturing into the park or setting foot in this forest, they had anticipated the final leg of their journey to be the most arduous. But none among them had anticipated these monsters catching up so swiftly.

Before their eyes sprawled not a mere group but an overwhelming horde of infected—more than they'd ever encountered since the onset of this calamity. Grotesque and unrecognisable, a legion of a thousand abominations lurched and limped forward. Their haunting moans echoed through the once-peaceful forest, a cacophony of hunger that propelled them toward the group, jaws snapping hungrily in anticipation.

It wasn't just the cadaverous, rotting forms or the repugnant wounds etched on their faces that sent shivers down their spines. It was their sounds, an unearthly moan that cut through the air like a blade. The infected possessed a terrible hunger, a haunting wail that evoked painful moans as they hissed and snapped, driven by a relentless desire for their prey.

“Holy shit...” Niall's whispered words carried the weight of their collective dread.

Amid the tension and the desperate hope of remaining unseen, the boys moved backward cautiously, Zayn clutching his bow tautly while Niall steadied his sniper rifle

In a silent exchange of fear, Harry sensed a lurking presence and slowly turned, his widened eyes conveying terror, instinctively grasping Louis' hand in a vice-like grip. As Louis followed Harry's gaze and locked their fingers, his breath hitched, holding back a gasp.

There, too close for comfort and dangerously near to where Harry crouched in the foliage, an infected figure emerged. Its grotesque form stood eerily still, a twisted neck directing its wide, gaping mouth towards them. The creature, contorted and unnatural, tilted its head, an unsettling crack resonating through the air from its shifting bones as it emitted a piercing, eerie scream-like noise that pierced through the forest, an unmistakable call to its kind.

The haunting sound shattered the serenity, igniting the horde into a frenzy. The infected, drawn by the sudden cry, lunged forward with newfound ferocity, driven by the signal that prey awaited them.

Panic surged as they sprinted through the forest, their breaths jagged and hearts racing in unison with their frantic strides. Above, the dense canopy offered fleeting glimpses of sunlight, casting intermittent shadows over their path. Their urgent steps reverberated through the woods, yet amidst their frenzied run, unsettling visions of the undead emerged among the trees. Some of the zombies, surprisingly swift, kept pace, their ghastly forms weaving through the shadows.

"There’s too many !” Niall's voice pierced the chaos as he stole a glance behind them.

"Run faster!" Louis' urgent command cut through the pandemonium, an undercurrent of anxiety underscoring his words.

Branches whipped against their faces as they manoeuvred through the forest, the uneven terrain adding to the peril. The zombies, relentless in their pursuit, closed the gap, their guttural moans a haunting symphony behind the boys. With adrenaline-fueled determination, they scanned the surroundings for any semblance of shelter. The forest seemed sparse, leaving them exposed and vulnerable.

"Over there, a clearing!" Oli's voice rang out, a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos, pointing towards a distant open space.

The boys surged forward, their legs burning with exertion, hoping against hope for a respite.

In the heart of the forest, panic mounted. Their breaths came in desperate gasps, the urgency of their flight still throbbing in their veins. Louis' eyes darted frantically around, seeking any means of escape. A piercing scream of an infected nearby jolted him into action, prompting his urgent plea to the group

"Anyone got something that makes light? Or noise?" His voice, laced with urgency, carried a hint of desperation.

Niall furrowed his brow, rummaging through his bag. "Wait! I think I've got something!" He retrieved a red fumigates stick, puzzlement painting the faces of the other boys.

Louis squared his shoulders, his jaw tight as he made a decisive move. Dropping his bag with a resounding thud, he exchanged a tense glance with Harry, their chests heaving from exertion, a silent understanding passing between them.

When Louis began to stride away, objections rose from Liam, Zayn, and Luke, but Harry's raised hand halted their protest, fixated on Louis' determined figure.

"Lou, where are you going ?" Niall's voice carried a note of urgency and confusion.

‘’Harry, what the fuck ?!” Liam called.

Silent and resolute, Louis pressed on, reaching the clearing's entrance that led to a vast expanse of fields beyond. Closing his eyes, he clenched the smoke bomb tightly in his hand. As another wail pierced the air and the footsteps of the infected drew nearer, Louis opened his eyes, igniting the smoke bomb. A thick plume of red smoke billowed upwards, weaving through the trees.

"Come on, you bastards," Louis murmured to himself, his voice quivering with adrenaline, the tension in the air thickening as the boys watched in disbelief.

When the first wave of infected drew near, Louis bolted. He sprinted through the field, the red light trailing behind him like a fiery comet. His laughter mingled with screams, challenging the infected to follow, urging them on. The infected, drawn to the vivid red beacon and Louis' taunts, followed him fervently, diverting their attention away from the boys.

"I'm right here! Can't catch me?" His taunts echoed across the field, his laughter mingling with the chaos. The infected, drawn by the vivid crimson spectacle, pursued him with relentless fervour.

The boys stood transfixed, their breaths shallow, eyes wide with a mix of fear and awe. Louis raced ahead with a reckless abandon that left them breathless, his silhouette darting through the fields, the red glow trailing behind him like a fiery comet leading the horde astray.

Harry was rooted to the spot, his knuckles white from clenching his fists, torn between concern and a strange admiration for Louis' sheer audacity. The sight of him weaving through the fields, evading the infected with an almost reckless ease, stirred conflicting emotions within him.

In the tense moments within the clearing, Niall and Liam scrambled through their supplies, seeking a solution to halt the relentless pursuit of the horde behind Louis, striving to ensure the safety of the entire group. Amidst the chaos, Niall crouched down, grabbing Zayn's arrows, glass bottles, and other flammable materials—alcohol, a can, and various items from their bags.

Their eyes remained fixed on Louis, witnessing his fatigue becoming increasingly evident as his pace began to falter. Anxiety gripped the group, their nerves taut as they watched the leader of their pack growing weary.

"Niall, what are you doing?" Liam called out, his voice strained with urgency.

Niall barely glanced back, his focus locked on his makeshift arsenal. "Trying something, mate!’’ He sighed, fumbling. “Harry, Luke, we need wood and leaves for a fire !" he instructed, swiftly detailing his plan.

Without delay, Luke and Harry darted away, capitalising on the horde's fixation on Louis to quietly slip out of the clearing. They scurried into the forest, rapidly gathering branches and foliage, then dashed out into the field, strategically placing them a short distance away from their hiding spot.

"Louis, keep running, mate! Don't you dare stop! We're onto something here," Oli screamed into the talkie, the desperation and determination evident. "Lead them back to the entrance, we've got something planned. Keep at it!"

Louis, despite his exhaustion, his chest heaving and legs feeling heavy, pushed himself harder, a loud moan of exhaustion escaping his mouth as he pushed on his legs to keep running. He forced his tired muscles to comply, his feet pounding against the field floor, his breaths shallow and rapid. Oli's words echoed in his mind, spurring him on, a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos.

The clearing was in sight now, and Louis aimed to guide the horde back towards the agreed-upon spot, straining to maintain his speed and lead the infected as directed. His determination surged, a flicker of optimism amid the desperation, as he relentlessly lured the pursuers towards the designated location.

As Louis approached, closing the gap, Niall and Harry launched two molotovs at the heap of dry leaves, swiftly setting them ablaze. With a few seconds' delay to ensure Louis was safely distanced, Niall acted decisively, flinging a makeshift bomb onto the smouldering heap, nudging Zayn, signalling his cue. Zayn, poised and focused, drew a deep breath, releasing his arrow straight into the can-like bomb.

The makeshift explosive ignited instantly, sending half of the horde flying in the air

The earth trembled under the shockwave of the explosion, dust and debris swirling around the boys, forcing them to crouch and shield their faces from the smoke.

Harry rose first, his frantic gaze scanning through the swirling smoke, the pounding of his heart the only audible sound. The infected, like a pack of moths drawn to a flame, abandoned their pursuit and rushed headlong toward the fire, a mesmerising beacon leading them to their own destruction.

Harry noticed then, that the infected were oblivious to Louis, sprawled on the ground amidst the chaos. He dashed toward him, heedless of his dropped weapon and belongings, dismissing the ache of his old thigh wound. He skidded to his knees in the muddy ground, his trembling hands reaching for Louis

"Lou!?" Harry called, clearing the dark remnants of the fire from Louis' cheeks, his gaze fixated as Louis coughed.

"Let's go," Louis groaned, rising onto his elbow and allowing Harry to assist him up.

They swiftly rejoined the group, snatching their gear and weapons before resuming their desperate flight.

"The fire won't hold them for long!" Niall shouted, sprinting alongside Louis.

"It’s a fucking field man!!" Luke exclaimed, anxiety straining his voice. “There’s nowhere to hide!”

"We have to make it across! Run!" Liam's urgency echoed across the group as they hurtled forward.

The field was a treacherous maze, riddled with unseen pitfalls. Every step was a gamble—a hidden hole or a concealed dip could send them sprawling. The biting cold gnawed at their stamina, hindering their pace. The weight of their bags only compounded the strain, dragging them down as they pushed forward. Louis felt every muscle ache, his chest heaving for precious breath, yet the relentless pursuit of the infected amplified the urgency.

"They're gaining on us!" Oli's voice cut through the air, laced with panic.

They pressed on, groaning with the effort, each step an agonising struggle. The road lay just a few metres ahead, a glimmer of hope urging them to push harder. Legs quivering, lungs burning, they strained against their limits.

Suddenly, Niall faltered, his knee giving way, sending him crashing to the ground.

With their speed, it took them a few seconds before the boys registered Niall’s predicament.

But when they saw, even though the horror and worry, they hesitated, momentarily stunned. Louis, ahead of them, feeling something was amiss, pivoted and horror pierced his heart like an icy blade.

Niall was on the ground, clutching his knee, his pained moans punctuating the air. The infected were closing the gap, snarling hungrily and running straight for him

Without second thought, Louis acted. "What the hell are you all doing?!"

He bolted back towards Niall, his focus singular, every heartbeat screaming at the danger, a raw fear gripping him. He knew it was risky. He didn't know the extent of Niall's injury. The only thing he knew was that time was racing and that the infected were closing in fast. But the thought of abandoning his friend was inconceivable.

In a chain reaction spurred by Louis's brave dash toward Niall, the others responded with urgency.

Harry surged forth, racing to aid them, while Liam, Niall, Oli, and Luke readied their weapons, firing relentlessly at the encroaching horde. Each shot echoed through the tense air as they fought to keep the infected at bay. Zayn, his vision blurred by tears, steadied himself, focusing on his bow. His arrows flew true, each one aimed for the head of an oncoming monster, his heart heavy with the sight of the danger looming closer to Niall and Louis.

"Come on, lad!" Louis's voice, a mix of urgency and desperation, reached Niall's ears as he pulled him close, offering support and encouragement. "Come on, you can do it.

Harry swiftly joined them, lending his strength on the other side of Niall. The injured boy struggled, almost collapsing from the pain, his tears a testament to his agony.

"Let's go, Niall. You can do it," Harry cheered, urging Niall to take each faltering step, while Louis supported him from the other side.

Amid this struggle, as they inched forward while the others covered them with gunfire, a sudden force yanked Louis backward. His grip on Niall weakened, and he stumbled, his arms slipping away from Niall's waist. With Niall's injured knee unable to bear his weight, he collapsed, sending Harry tumbling down with him. The impact jarred Harry, knocking the wind out of him as they crashed to the ground together.

"LOUIS!" Zayn's anguished cry pierced the chaotic air.

Harry lifted his head from the ground, witnessing Louis fighting to break free from the infected's grip. He watched as he elbowed one in the face, trying to create a gap, but more creatures were closing in on him, fixated on Louis like he was their next meal.

Harry's ears rang with the intensity of the moment, and the following events blurred in his mind.

Oli and Luke rushed to aid Niall, trying to help him up from the ground where he had fallen. Liam continued firing at the encroaching infected, keeping them at bay, while Harry fought to free Louis from their grasp. With determination, he managed to grab Louis around the waist, hoisting him up against his chest, using his other hand to fire shots at the infected, taking down three of them before they sprinted away again.

The urgency was palpable as they ran, their breaths ragged, hearts pounding, and the infected giving relentless chase. The field seemed never-ending, the uneven ground causing them to stumble as they pushed through the fatigue, their spirits battered but not broken. They knew they had to keep running, keep moving, for any pause could be their downfall.

Zayn, fueled by adrenaline and fear, fumbled through Niall's bag, fingers searching desperately for one last molotov. His hands trembled as he grasped it, the bottle clinking against his sweaty palm. Juggling between running and attempting to light the molotov, he struggled to keep his focus amidst the chaos.

With a final surge of determination, he managed to ignite the wick. Without a moment's hesitation, he flung the makeshift explosive behind him, his breath catching as he heard the deafening explosion resonate through the air. The blast created a brief yet crucial diversion, providing the boys with the precious seconds they needed.

Their legs pumping with all their remaining strength, they surged forward, racing towards the road that promised a fleeting sanctuary. As their pounding footsteps echoed through the narrow alleys, the boys sprinted towards the beckoning safety of a nearby building, their singular focus on seeking refuge. The structure stood tall, a complex of flats or perhaps a hotel — a potential sanctuary in the midst of chaos.

In a breathless sprint, they stormed through the entrance, thundering up the stairs with unbridled urgency. Each flight climbed a stride closer to temporary safety. Their hearts raced, adrenaline surging as they ascended to the topmost floor.

With laboured breaths and trembling limbs, they rushed through the door. Liam slammed it shut behind them with a resounding thud, sealing off the outside world for a fleeting moment of respite. Oli and Luke gently lowered Niall to the ground, ensuring he was as comfortable as possible given the circumstances.

The room was a cacophony of heavy panting and ragged breaths, the sheer exhaustion etched on their faces. Zayn moved toward the window, drawing back the curtains to gaze out at the view, his eyes scanning the distance.

Through the glass, the last bridge stood in the distance.

On the other side awaited their family, their friends— the last step toward sanctuary.

For a brief moment, the boys allowed themselves to absorb the sight before them, the gravity of the bridge stretching out as a silent testament to their perseverance. It was an end to their tumultuous journey, and a beginning to the next chapter in their lives.

Harry felt a wave of dizziness envelop him. The lack of air had become suffocating. He staggered, his vision blurring, until everything around him turned into a haze of shapes and sounds. The bridge, the distant hope, dissolved into obscurity as Harry's world dimmed, and he collapsed to the ground.

Chapter 27: Nottingham

Chapter Text

As the clamour of their frenzied escape faded, the room filled with a frenetic urgency. Liam knelt beside Harry, his expression riddled with worry as he cradled Harry's head in his lap. He carefully pushed aside Harry's long curls, unzipping his jacket to help him breathe easier.

"Oli, grab Harry's bag—get the inhaler, hurry!" Liam's voice quivered with concern.

Oli darted across the room, frantically rummaging through Harry's bag. "Got it!"

"Pass it here!" Liam's hands were steady as he took the inhaler, immediately assisting Harry to use it, gently supporting his neck to help elevate him, guiding the inhaler to his lips. "Easy now, mate, slow breaths." He administered the inhaler again, watching as Harry slowly opened his eyes, trying to regain his breath, his face contorted in pain.

On the other side of the room, Zayn knelt beside a tearful and distressed Niall, who was desperately biting his fist to stifle his cries. Zayn carefully manoeuvred his knee, palpating it to check if the bone was dislocated again.

"Alright, Niall, you need to breathe," Zayn said, gently prying Niall's wrist away from his face. "Look at me, mate, you need to breathe." He pleaded, "We need water here!"

Luke hastily slung his bag around, yanking open the zipper to rummage through the supplies. He seized a small water bottle and hurried it to Zayn, his breaths coming fast and erratic. "Where the hell is Louis!?"

"I need water too," Liam interjected, his hand tenderly caressing Harry's cheeks, relieved as colour slowly returned to his friend's face.

Oli rushed to Liam's side, handing him the water bottle while patting Harry's thigh in reassurance

"Louis! Where are you!?" Zayn's voice echoed in the room.

From a room that had gone unnoticed in the chaos, Louis emerged, his complexion a shade paler than usual. "I'm here," he said, his voice soft and hoarse.

"You had us worried sick, mate. Where were you?"

"Sorry, just needed a moment," Louis muttered, attempting to regulate his breathing.

"Liam, come here, I need help carrying Niall to a bed," Zayn instructed.

As Oli and Luke gathered the bags into a pile and hurried to the main door to block it with a large wooden shoe dresser, Liam looked up at Louis.

"Hey, Louis," he called. "Can you...?" He gestured subtly toward Harry, still cradled in his lap.

"Oh," Louis awkwardly wiped his hands on his back pockets, "Yeah, sure," he said, uncertainly.

Liam furrowed his brows but chose not to say anything. He waited as Louis moved closer, settling on the ground, under the window, with his back to the wall. He gently placed Harry's head on his own thighs, watching as Liam then joined Zayn and Niall.

Harry's breaths were still hoarse and heavy, his hand clenched against his chest, gripping his sweater. Louis reached out, intertwining his fingers with Harry's and absentmindedly playing with them while his other hand rested in Harry's sweaty curls. Harry focused on the touch, attempting to regain composure despite the ache in his muscles and the trembling of his limbs from the adrenaline and fear.

Amidst the room filled with the boys' voices and worry, Louis and Harry gradually drifted off to sleep in their own quiet corner.

As Louis stirred awake, a numbness tingled through his legs from the weight of Harry's head resting on his thighs. He blinked away drowsiness, feeling the strain in his neck and the overall soreness that gripped his body. The room unfolded before him, bags scattered across the floor, clothing heaps mingling with medical supplies and weapons. Liam and Oli lay sprawled on a nearby sofa, slumbering in peaceful oblivion, while Zayn tenderly ran his fingers through Niall's hair, lost in his own reverie.

Louis’ gaze eventually settled on the sight of Harry, his expression serene in the depths of slumber, their fingers still interlocked. Slowly extracting his hand from the curls, Louis reached for a nearby water bottle, taking a long, satisfying sip to quench his thirst after waking.

The main room, where the boys congregated, had once been a hub of activity and welcoming luxury. A massive, antique wooden desk stood at one end, papers scattered across its surface, long forgotten by the past occupants. Plush armchairs, once inviting for guests, were now covered in dust, their rich upholstery barely visible beneath the grime. The walls, adorned with elaborate wallpaper, told stories of a bygone era, now faded and peeling at the edges.

Zayn’s concerned voice cut through the silence, drawing Louis' attention as he sat on the bed, his expression marked by a worried frown. "You okay?" he asked, his concern palpable. "You look pale.

Louis swallowed hard and shook his head, his fatigue evident. "Tired," he managed to reply.

The room's door creaked open, causing Louis to startle, and rousing Harry from his slumber with a groan. With a languid stretch, Harry slowly opened his eyes, blinking against the brightness. Luke entered, clad in a forgotten hoodie and a thin tank top, his cargo pants dirtied with mud

"It's safe," Luke reassured, shutting the door behind him. "It's a hotel. I didn’t see anyone; all the rooms are empty, some seem untouched." He used his hoodie to wipe his forehead, scanning the room. "But there’s no water, no electricity." His gaze settled on Louis, noticing his drained appearance. "You okay?"

Their voices stirred Liam and Oli, who shifted and sat up on the sofa. Liam straightened, rubbing his eyes with a palm, smoothing his buzz-cut hair. "How's Niall?" he inquired, his voice muffled behind his hand, stifling a yawn.

"He's still asleep," Zayn replied, taking a seat on the bed's edge. "His knee is swollen, but it's not broken. I think it was just too much running."

The boys' collective gaze turned toward Niall, a mix of worry and relief evident on their faces. Harry slowly extracted himself from the embrace of Louis' body, shuffling to sit against the wall beneath the window. He rubbed at his eyes with his knuckles.

"Feeling better now?" Liam directed the question toward Harry, receiving only a grunt and a hoarse sound in response.

"I think we should eat," Zayn suggested, moving toward the scattered bags and crouching down to retrieve the small rations they had brought with them.

Louis stirred in the unfamiliar bed, disoriented and fatigued. He blinked several times, trying to recall how he ended up in this room, alone. His body felt heavy, and an uncomfortable warmth and sweat clung to his skin, making it itch.

Summoning every ounce of strength, Louis managed to sit up, his limbs protesting against the effort. He peered around the room, the silence around him only amplifying his confusion. Slowly, he manoeuvred to the bathroom, anticipating the lack of water. He grabbed his own bottle and methodically removed his sweater and shirt, dampening a cloth with the little water he had, then gently wiped away the sweat and grime from his face and neck.

Staring at his reflection in the mirror, Louis furrowed his brow, his grip tightening on the sink's edge. He sighed, feeling both drained and restless.

After cleaning himself as best as he could, Louis changed into a fresh shirt, although he hesitated, feeling a chill despite the sweat clinging to his skin, and eventually, he pulled his sweater back on, seeking some comfort against the inexplicable coldness.

He felt a peculiar unease gnawing at him, an indescribable sensation dancing on the edge of his consciousness. He oscillated between a nervous tension and an unexpected calmness, an odd dichotomy playing within him. There was an itch beneath his skin, an inexplicable urge that remained unspoken and unnamed, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Louis cautiously exited his room, the distant sound of music and laughter teasing his ears. Step by step, the notes became clearer, weaving an inviting rhythm that drew him forward. As he approached the source, the crescendo of laughter intermingled with the melody.

The door ajar, Louis peered inside, only to be struck by a vivid scene

The boys were inside, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight that replaced the absent electricity. Each held an alcohol bottle, and the room echoed with their laughter and animated movements. Niall, adjusting the radio's antenna, was determined to enhance the music. The ambiance was infectious, but Louis found himself oddly unsettled by the atmosphere. The noise, the joy—it all felt jarring, a dissonance with what was stirring within him. He stood at the threshold, caught between wanting to join in and feeling out of place.

"Lou!" Luke's voice rang out, his face flushed with alcohol. He hurried over, planting a friendly kiss on Louis' forehead, an action that sent an unexpected wave of discomfort through Louis' body.

Louis felt the sudden urge to recoil, an inexplicable unease bubbling within him at the contact. His skin crawled with a sensation he couldn't quite articulate. "You alright?" Luke's concern was palpable, the half-drunk bottle of Gin in his hand glinting.

"Yeah…" Louis forced a weak smile, his shoulders tensing involuntarily. His body seemed to hum with a restlessness that didn't fit the joyous scene around him.

He dared a look toward Harry, but the vision was too much for him.

Harry dominated the centre of the room, his hair cascading freely, wild curls dancing around as he gyrated and spun with abandon. He bounced and twirled, beer in hand, a colossal grin etched across his face, adding an extra layer of youthful exuberance. A picture perfect of pure joy.

And as Louis diverted his eyes, he padded further in the room, watching as Zayn and Liam were swaying together, drinking from the same bottle as their eyes were shining with mutual understanding.

His movements carried a hint of hesitation, a subtle shift in behaviour noticed only by those who knew him well. Louis, typically vibrant and energetic, seemed slightly subdued, a faint shadow cast over his usual spark. His eyes darted around the room more frequently, as if seeking something yet unknown.

Louis's unease was palpable, his restless movements and fidgeting obvious to Zayn as he watched Louis traverse the room. Zayn's concern etched deeper with each anxious gesture from his friend. He approached Louis and offered a bottle of vodka, hoping it might help ease whatever was troubling him.

"Drink?" Zayn's voice was gentle, but Louis seemed lost in his thoughts, his nerves wreaking havoc on his composure. Louis accepted the bottle with hesitation, his hand betraying a noticeable tremor.

"You sure you're okay?" Zayn's concern was evident, but Louis remained silent for a moment, grappling with his emotions.

"Yeah, just..." Louis' voice trailed off, his hurried gulp of the alcohol a reflexive attempt to calm his inner turmoil. He winced at the burning sensation, his throat rebelling against the fiery liquid, but it provided a strange solace. “Yeah.’’

Their conversation was interrupted by laughter erupting from Niall's attempt to teach an Irish jig to Liam and Oli, their joyous antics momentarily drawing Louis's attention. His gaze lingered on Harry and Liam sharing a warm embrace in the background.

"It was nice what you did, you know," Zayn remarked, his eyes focused on Liam. "Going back for Niall like this.

"Yeah," Louis replied absentmindedly, his focus still fixed on Harry.

"It will be over soon," Zayn reassured him, laying a comforting hand on Louis's thigh. “Tomorrow, we’ll be at the camp. And everything will be behind us.’’

But the touch, while intended as a gesture of support, only added to Louis's disorientation, leaving him feeling dizzy and disconcerted. "Actually, can I speak to you?" Louis suddenly requested, catching Zayn off guard.

"Yeah?"

Louis signalled for a private conversation, and Zayn complied, rising from the sofa. Louis quietly whispered to Oli, and with a quizzical glance in Zayn's direction, Oli joined them as they exited the room, not escaping Harry's observant eyes.

Half an hour later, as Louis, Zayn, and Oli returned to the room after their private conversation, the air seemed a bit different. Harry's keen eye didn't miss the pallor on Zayn and Oli's faces, nor the redness in Oli's eyes. He furrowed his brows in concern, but the dizziness from the alcohol and the commotion around him made him let the thought pass.

Louis, on the other hand, appeared somewhat improved. Maybe it was the almost-empty vodka bottle he now held, the alcohol providing him with a sense of relief. He looked less restless, the fidgetiness subdued for the time being.

The atmosphere in the room had changed. Laughter filled the space, and the music played on, but there was an underlying tension, a subtle shift that Harry sensed but couldn't quite pinpoint. Niall staggered up behind Harry, shouting something, but Harry's attention was momentarily diverted elsewhere. Despite the chaos, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right. Yet, the alcohol coursing through his veins and the infectious energy of the group around him clouded his senses, blurring the edges of his concern.

As "I Will Survive" began to play, it was almost ironic how fitting the song was for their situation. The lyrics reverberated through the room, echoing the journey they'd all endured. The group raised their drinks and bottles high, a collective celebration of reaching the final threshold after a year of relentless survival.

Their faces lit up with joy and relief, dancing to the beat, swaying in unison as they sang along with the song. Within the cheerfulness and uproar, Harry was shouting the lyrics with abandon, his head tilted back, bellowing the words in a carefree, joyous manner. His infectious enthusiasm spread through the room, lifting everyone's spirits higher.

But Louis, leaning against the wall, observed Harry from a distance. His gaze lingered on him, not quite mirroring the exuberance of the others. There was a wistfulness in his eyes, a sense of reflection and contemplation as he watched Harry lost in the music and celebration. It was as if he saw something deeper in the moment, something poignant and bittersweet.

As Louis approached, Harry's infectious joy didn't wane. His radiant grin widened as Louis placed a hand on his hip, drawing attention and pausing his dance. Harry looked down, his smile turning cherubic, and in an instant, he swung an arm around Louis' neck, pulling him closer.

"Weren't you the one who tried to break me with goodbye?" Harry sang, swaying both of them with his contagious enthusiasm, prompting a laugh from Louis. "You think I'd crumble? You think I'd lay down and die? Go on now, go!" Harry screamed the lyrics once more, joined by Niall and Liam behind him.

The room was alive with laughter, dancing, and singing—an electric atmosphere charged with camaraderie and celebration. As the song's chorus echoed, Harry and Louis moved in sync, lost in the moment, sharing a connection that surpassed mere celebration.

Bringing his chin to rest on Harry's chest, Louis observed him intently, his eyes shining with an affection that went unnoticed by Harry, engrossed in the moment. Louis bit his lip, a fleeting gesture of hesitance, before he couldn't resist and joined in, starting to sing along.

"I've got all my love to give, and I'll survive! I will survive!" They harmonised together, Harry's laughter ringing out as he realised Louis was joining in.

''Hey! Hey!'' The group erupted, all of them shouting in unison.

As the festivities dimmed down and the group prepared to retire for the night, Louis decided it was time to call it a day. Drunk Harry, with his carefree smile, shadowed Louis as soon as he signalled his exit from the party. Louis led the way, finding solace in the silence they shared, an unspoken understanding guiding them to the room they'd share that night. As they arrived, Louis turned to Harry, who was leaning against the wall, swaying gently.

Harry followed closely behind, his steps unsteady, giggling and swaying as he tried to remove his trousers. "I'm havin' a bit of trouble here," he chuckled.

Louis nodded, quietly observing Harry's efforts, a mix of fondness and concern in his gaze. "Need a hand?"

"Nah, I got it!" Harry insisted, finally managing to remove his trousers but nearly losing his balance in the process.

With Harry's infectious laughter in the air, Louis stepped forward, reaching out to steady him. "C'mon, let me help you. Sit down."

Harry complied, plopping onto the edge of the bed with a lopsided grin. "You're good at takin' care of me, Lou," he mumbled appreciatively.

Louis chuckled softly. "Always." He pulled out some spare clothes for Harry, helping him change into more comfortable attire.

Once Harry was settled in bed, Louis quietly moved around the room, preparing for the night. He glanced over at Harry, who was already drifting off, a contented smile on his face. Louis couldn't help but smile too.

As Louis crawled in bed beside him, Harry let out an exasperated sigh and a groan, carelessly throwing a thigh and a leg over Louis. He nestled close, seeking refuge against Louis's shoulder, prompting Louis to manoeuvre his arm out from under the covers. He adjusted, allowing Harry to rest his head between his collarbone and jawline, feeling the warmth radiating from Harry's face, probably due to the alcohol.

Louis found it impossible to relax. Despite Harry's comforting warmth beside him, his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, making sleep elusive. Attempting to concentrate on Harry's steady breaths nearby, he found himself fixating on the sensation of Harry's breath against his neck. Restlessly, he shifted on the mattress, hoping for a more comfortable position, yet nothing seemed to alleviate his restlessness. Closing his eyes tightly only intensified the racing thoughts and the uncomfortable sensation under his skin.

In the quiet of the room, Harry's eyelids fluttered open as he sensed Louis's unease, his restlessness palpable even in the dimly lit room. Harry lifted his head slightly, catching a glimpse of Louis's troubled expression in the faint light filtering through the window.

"Hey," Harry murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He gently brushed his fingers along Louis's arm, attempting to offer comfort. "Can't sleep?"

Louis turned to face him, his eyes meeting Harry's with a mix of weariness and unrest. "It's nothing, really," Louis replied, trying to sound reassuring despite the tension in his voice.

Harry, however, could sense otherwise. He reached out, cupping Louis's cheek tenderly. "You know you can tell me, right?" His voice was gentle and warm.

Louis hesitated for a moment before sighing softly. "It's just… everything," he murmured, his voice barely audible.

Understanding Louis's turmoil, Harry leaned in closer, pressing a gentle kiss to Louis's forehead. "We've come this far, Lou. We'll get through this too, I promise." His thumb brushed lightly against Louis's cheek, trying to soothe him.

In the intimacy of the room, within the soft embrace of the sheets, Louis found himself caught in a whirlwind of emotions. His heart seemed to tighten, a flurry of butterflies dancing in his belly, yet a certain calmness gradually settled within him. He fixed his gaze on Harry, whose face bore a faint, dazed smile—perhaps remnants of the alcohol lingering in his mind. Louis couldn't help but smile fondly, his hand tenderly caressing Harry's cheek, a gesture met with Harry's immediate affection as he leaned into Louis' touch.

"Promise?" Louis asked, his voice heavy with emotion, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

Harry's smile faltered briefly, sensing the depth of Louis' plea. In that silent exchange, Harry's fingers brushed Louis' forehead, gently sweeping away stray locks of hair. "Promise," he whispered.

However at that point, as the feelings appeared too much for him to deal with, Louis moved, pushing Harry back on the bed until he comprehended, and sat himself against the extravagant yet dusty headboard. Louis straddled his thighs, bringing his hands on Harry's long hair, using his nails to scrape at his scalp, watching as Harry tilted his head and shut his eyes in appreciation.

Blindly, Harry went after the covers, draping them around Louis' frame, as though feeling the chills in his body. When he opened his eyes once more, Louis felt his heart miss a beat, and he let out a shaky breath.

"What ?" Harry asked, playing at his lower lip with his teeth.

''Nothing,'' Louis murmured, before he leaned in for a kiss.

With little hesitation, their mouths moulded together, their lashes brushing against one another, and Louis felt Harry's fingers tighten on his waist. Even so, it didn't seem enough. Louis had the urge to crawl nearer, crawl under Harry's skin, and hold him tightly. So he arched, wapping both arms around his neck and feeling Harry's heartbeat against his chest. Harry made a small sound from the back of his throat, causing Louis to pull back only an inch.

The way Harry was staring at him was too much for him to handle; everything seemed to be too much. Louis chose to pull Harry in an even tighter hug, pressing his face firmly against his while subtly smelling his hair and closing his eyes as yet another wave of emotions washed over him.

Though he was unable to see Harry's, he swore that he could visualise and feel his frown. Harry, however, gave him a hug in return, his long arms enveloping him.

"Hold me," Louis murmured, his voice about to shatter.

And Harry did. Right away. Without delay. Increasing his grip and adjusting his face to perfectly fit against Louis's heart.

"We'll be alright," Harry whispered.

Chapter 28: Sheffield

Chapter Text

The sun began to peek through the window, casting a soft glow into the room as the boys stirred from their sleep, anticipation tingling in the air. Liam was already hunched over the map, nibbling on salty crackers while sipping from a shared bottle of apple juice. Zayn stood by the window, brushing his teeth with a bottle of water nearby to rinse his mouth. The others gathered around Liam, going through their plan for the day.

"So, we need to find a car to take us to Sheffield," Liam began, pointing at the map. "Then, we cross the bridge and wait for the truck to pick us up and take us to the camp."

“Are we sure the truck will be there ?” Zayn asked as he closed the window.

“Yeah, we need to contact Gemma through the Talkie as soon as we are in Sheffield.’’

"We just need to be more careful," Luke added, his eyes scanning the map. "The infected have been thicker around that area.

Niall, while tying his shoelaces, nodded in agreement. "If I trip this time, let me behind."

Zayn smacked him behind the head with his empty plastic bottle, shooting him a teasing glare.

Harry, still rubbing sleep from his eyes, chimed in, "We're almost there, right?"

Liam, folding back the map, nodded resolutely. "It's finally happening. We're almost there, guys."

Zayn and Oli exchanged a look, Oli quickly turning away to busy himself with his backpack. Harry stretched in his chair, letting out a loud yawn as he rubbed his head.

“Why did anyone let me drink that much?” he complained.

“Your dance moves are top-notch when you're tipsy,” Liam joked.

“Has anyone seen Louis?” Luke suddenly asked.

The conversation halted abruptly, Oli freezing in front of his bag, and Zayn shooting a quick, concerned glance in his direction before continuing with his tasks. Harry frowned, scanning the room.

“We'll need to head out soon,” Liam stated, preparing to go search for Louis.

Zayn, however, swiftly turned around, a hint of worry in his eyes. "Maybe let him rest a bit longer. He's been through a lot."

As Louis stirred awake, the light creeping through the curtains felt harsh against his eyes. His head throbbed with a relentless ache, and a sheen of sweat coated his clammy skin. He felt an inexplicable itchiness under his skin, an unsettling sensation that made him shift uncomfortably in the bed. His breaths came in shallow gasps, as if the air around him had thickened.

His thoughts felt scattered, like puzzle pieces lost in a fog, making it hard to focus on the simplest of tasks. He ran his fingers through his dishevelled hair, frustration knitting his brows at his own inability to shake off the lingering drowsiness.

Louis rubbed at his temples, attempting to dispel the persistent headache, but it only seemed to intensify. He blamed it on the whole bottle of vodka he had downed. And despite feeling weak and irritable, he tried to push through, unwilling to let the others know how off-kilter he truly felt.

As Louis put weight on his foot, a sharp pang shot through his body, prompting an involuntary groan of discomfort. Every muscle ached, and fatigue weighed heavily upon him. Blinking against the dizziness that clouded his vision, he steadied himself, determined not to show any weakness.

When he heard footsteps nearing the door, panic surged within him, and he hastily grabbed his bag, retreating to the bathroom and turning the sink on for cover.

"Lou?" Harry's voice echoed from outside the room, followed by his approaching steps.

Inside the bathroom, Louis tensed, locking the door and hoping Harry wouldn't attempt to enter. He breathed a sigh of relief as the door remained shut. His eyes met the mirror's reflection, revealing the weariness etched on his face.

"Yeah, I'm changing," Louis called out, attempting to sound composed despite the tremor in his voice.

"Okay... We left you some crackers. And water. Liam said we need to leave in fifteen."

With trembling hands, Louis splashed cold water onto his face, trying to alleviate the heat crawling under his skin. He discarded his shirt, soaking it in the running water before using it to wipe away the clammy sweat clinging to his body.

“You sure you’re okay?” Harry's voice startled Louis; he hadn't realised Harry was still nearby.

Louis cleared his throat, taking a drink from the sink. He gasped as he finished, rolling his neck to ease the tension. "Yeah, I think it was just too much running yesterday. And the cold... might be getting sick."

Rummaging in his bag, he pulled out his last clean black henley, sliding it on and adjusting the sleeves. Then, he reached for his red sweater, zipping it all the way up. He glanced in the mirror, fixing his still-damp hair and wiping his face to erase the paleness.

After a deep breath, Louis unlocked the door and stepped out. As anticipated, Harry was already there, poised and put together, leaning casually against the wall beside the door. Louis was greeted with Harry’s smile, and he made an effort to return it. However, he noticed the swift change in Harry’s demeanour—the smile faltered, his arms uncrossed, and he straightened up immediately.

"You’re sick?" Harry asked, worry tainting his voice.

“Um,” Louis stepped back, shaking his head. “No, I told you. It’s just the cold.”

“You look... pale.”

“Jesus, thanks, Harold. You look good too,” Louis teased, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. “Now, I was promised delicious expired crackers and plain water.”

Harry chuckled and playfully ushered Louis out of the room, leading him back to the main room to join the others.

The boys gathered their belongings, the excitement palpable in the air as they prepared to depart from the hotel. With the world outside still cloaked in morning mist, they hustled to the streets, a fresh determination propelling their steps.

Niall, with his knack for tinkering, skillfully manoeuvred wires and gadgets, managing to open a car parked nearby. The engine roared to life under his deft touch, earning a round of impressed cheers from the group. Their escape vehicle secured, they piled in, ready for their last trip. The car sped along the empty roads, Niall navigating with precision, eliciting excited cheers from the boys. They egged him on, urging for more speed, their laughter echoing through the car. However, within the joyous atmosphere, Louis remained somewhat withdrawn, his gaze fixed on the passing landscape. Resting his chin on his hand, he stared out the window, lost in contemplation as the fields blurred past him.

As they zoomed through the city streets toward Sheffield, Harry impatiently fiddled with the Talkie, eagerly attempting to connect with Gemma. His excitement was palpable, his eyes glued to the device, fervently waiting for even a snippet of a response.

“Come on, Gemma, pick up,” Harry muttered under his breath, his fingers dancing over the Talkie's buttons as he tried to reach her.

Niall skillfully parked the car on the outskirts of Sheffield, the boys looking around with a mix of excitement and anticipation. Harry, fiddling eagerly with the talkie, finally established contact with Gemma.

"Gemma, it's Harry! We've reached Sheffield!" Harry exclaimed, a burst of excitement evident in his voice.

Static crackled through the talkie before Gemma's voice cut through, "Harry! Oh, thank goodness. Listen carefully. You need to head to Glossop. We'll send a truck to meet you there. Wait on the bridge—don't move until you see them."

"Glossop, bridge. Got it!" Harry relayed swiftly, turning to share the directions with the others.

Niall, already turning the car around, nodded eagerly. "Let's go, lads!"

As the group strolled through the quiet, seemingly untouched town of Glossop, a sense of relief and excitement enveloped them. The streets were empty, devoid of any infected, giving an air of calmness to the atmosphere. The cobblestone paths led to a quaint town square, where Niall skillfully parked the car.

The boys chatted animatedly, relishing the peacefulness of the surroundings. However, amidst their joyous banter, Louis found himself lagging behind, struggling to keep up. He felt an overwhelming warmth building within him, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. His vision blurred, making it harder to focus on the path ahead.

Despite his efforts, Louis couldn't match the others' pace. His steps became slower and more laboured, until he finally came to a standstill, watching as they continued walking, gradually distancing themselves from him.

Observing the camaraderie among his friends, he noticed Oli and Niall, arms linked, playfully nudging Luke with laughter. His gaze shifted to Zayn, his hand casually in Liam's back pocket, the two of them moving in harmony. On the side, the other boys played, their soft smiles portraying a moment of joy. And there was Harry, leading the way, clutching the talkie with an anticipation that suggested he could already see his sister through it, a wide, juvenile smile adorning his face.

A heavy swallow marked Louis's realisation, and he made his decision.

In a matter of minutes, Harry caught sight of the renowned bridge signalling their path to freedom. Overwhelmed with excitement akin to a child, he spun around with a beaming smile to share the moment with the others.

"Guys! Guys! Look! We made it!" His voice echoed with joy.

The group's joyfull cheers filled the air as they reached the bridge, an emblem of their anticipated freedom. Laughter echoed, punctuated by high-fives and heartfelt embraces. Liam, consumed by the overwhelming joy, hoisted Harry into his arms for a celebratory lift. However, as they rejoiced, Harry's radiant grin dimmed, his face growing ashen. The Talkie slipped from his grip, crashing, as he landed back on the ground.

“Where's Louis?” Harry's voice wavered, barely audible, his gaze fixed behind them.

Worry etched deep lines on the faces of the group as they spun around, frantically scanning the surroundings. A sudden realisation seized them, sending panic coursing through the group like wildfire.

"Where'd he go?" Liam's voice shook with worry as he scanned the area, his eyes darting in all directions.

"He was just here!" Niall's voice trembled with concern.

"We can't just leave him. Louis wouldn't just disappear," Luke exclaimed, his tone tinged with rising distress. “Louis ?!”

"He wasn't feeling well," Harry interjected, his voice quivering with worry. "I could tell. Something was off."

Luke, Niall, and Liam immediately dispersed, retracing their steps and calling out Louis's name in a frantic search. Urgency pierced the air, their voices reverberating through the quiet streets, desperately hoping to find him before time slipped away for their scheduled truck pickup.

"We have to find him," Harry insisted, glancing anxiously at his watch. "We can't miss that truck."

Oli and Zayn exchanged anxious glances, their worry palpable. Oli's eyes flickered towards the main square, recalling the last glimpse of Louis behind him. Zayn stepped closer to Harry, attempting to offer solace, but the touch seemed to jolt Harry into action. Suddenly, he bolted back, his voice echoing through the streets as he shouted Louis’ name.

Harry dashed through the narrow alleys branching out from the main square, his heart pounding against his chest as he shouted Louis' name at the top of his lungs. Panic clutched at his throat, rendering each call more desperate than the last.

"Louis! Where are you?" His voice was raw with emotion, echoing off the walls as he darted down one alley after another, his eyes wide with fear.

Every corner he turned revealed empty spaces, every shout returned only eerie silence. His frantic eyes scanned every nook and cranny, his breaths coming in short, sharp gasps as the panic in his chest surged. His face was contorted with anguish, his brow furrowed with worry lines etched deep. Each moment of not finding Louis only intensified his desperation. His voice grew hoarse from screaming, his throat burning, but he couldn't stop.

"Louis! Please, answer me!" Harry's calls grew louder, more frantic, his eyes darting everywhere, searching desperately for any sign of his friend.

His hands trembled, and his legs felt weak, but he refused to give up. Every inch of the alleys echoed with his frantic cries, the distress in his voice echoing through the desolate streets as he scoured every inch, unwilling to accept the possibility of losing Louis.

He ran past a small house, catching a glimpse of something in his peripheral vision. Instinct guided him, and as he doubled back, he found Louis standing in front of the fountain at the main square, his back turned to Harry, his gaze fixed on the bridge.

"Louis, where were you?! What happened?" Harry's voice was strained, marked with worry and confusion, but he received no response from Louis.

"You need to go," Louis finally replied, his voice sounding more strained and hoarse than before.

A knot formed in Harry's stomach, a sense of unease creeping in. "What?" His voice trembled with disbelief, trying to make sense of Louis's unusual behaviour.

Approaching Louis cautiously, Harry reached out to touch his shoulder. When Louis still didn't turn, Harry circled around until he stood face to face with him.

The sight before him shattered his world.

Louis's once vibrant blue eyes were now clouded and distant, almost grey. The skin beneath his eyes had taken on a bluish tinge, veins visible like faint cracks under his skin. His complexion was pallid, white and damp with sweat, his lips purple and cracked. Louis shivered uncontrollably, his whole body trembling with the effort to stay upright. Each movement was a struggle, every breath a painful effort.

"Louis?” Harry's voice wavered with anguish, his eyes wide with disbelief and sorrow. The realisation hit him like a sledgehammer - the signs were unmistakable.

Louis tried to speak, but his voice came out hoarse and weak. "You need to go."

"No... no, Louis, this can't be happening." Harry's voice cracked, his eyes brimming with tears. He couldn't comprehend the horror unfolding before him.

The weight of impending loss crashed down on Harry. He felt powerless, overwhelmed with a devastating mix of emotions - disbelief, fear, and a deep, wrenching grief that clawed at his heart. The reality sunk in like an anchor in his chest; he knew what this meant. There was no cure, no reversing this fate.

"I can't," Harry choked out, his voice