Wake Me Up

People are selfish, whether they want to admit it or not. They take things for granted and don't realize what they have until it's gone, disappearing into nothingness. They take their freedom, their life, their relationship, everything, because they're selfish even if they don't mean to be.

There's a difference between being selfish with yourself, taking your own freedom for granted, and taking someone else's freedom.

Louis didn't see the difference. He didn't realize he was selfish and taking someone's life from them. He didn't see it as taking something so precious, that should be valued and treasured and taken care of, away from someone.

Harry wanted to make the most of his life. He had aspirations and desires and wants and maybe he didn't have a bucket list, but that was because he didn't think he'd be kicking the bucket anytime soon.

Then again he probably didn't expect to be kidnapped, either.

Louis drove his car down the highway and he let out a content sigh as bright street lamps passed by the window. He watched as they all blurred due to the fast speed. In the backseat Harry laid limply with his head resting against the window, completely knocked out.

There was something about Harry looking so vulnerable, so soft. So delicate and sweet, that made Louis feel this flutter in his stomach. He didn't know if it was the ringlets framing his beautiful face, or his plump lips that involuntarily parted when he passed out, or the paleness of his porcelain skin. But Louis felt something. Lust. Want. Need.

What he was going to do with the boy was unknown. He didn't want to hurt him—not badly anyway—but something told him Harry wouldn't be that cooperative.

From what he'd learned about Harry he figured out he was sweet and kind and he cared a lot about others. However, he was defensive and could be snappy if he wanted to be.

Louis didn't like non-cooperative people.

He did like Harry though, a lot.

He liked Harry a little too much it seemed.

Louis didn't know what line he had to cross for his infatuation to become an obsession. What line he had to cross before it became too strong, too overwhelming. And who drew the line? Was it him? Or was it Harry?

If it was Harry, he's sure he already crossed it.

The drive to his house was a long one, as he lived far away from the city. The only reason he traveled that far every day was to see Harry, but now he didn't have a reason to. And when he crossed the large gates to his house opened, he felt a sense of relief fill his body.

He wouldn't have to worry about Harry's safety anymore. The gates were monitored 24/7 and only his and Zayn's cars were allowed in without authorization.

It was good place to keep someone that wasn't meant to be found...

At first, he was unsure where he should put Harry because he didn't know how much longer the boy would be out. He eventually decided the basement was a good idea.

It was a bit strange (usually) to have a basement in London, due to them being an American asset rather than a British one, but this was Louis' house. He built it so he was allowed a basement. And in his defense, the basement was actually quite nice. The cement flooring was level and there wasn't a crack to be seen. There were a few chairs, a rug, and if he chose to, he could turn on the heating.

However, he never chose to.

But his favorite feature would be where Harry would be spending his time if he didn't behave. It was hidden under the rug and it unless you know it's there, it can't be seen.

As Louis struggled to carry Harry down the creaky steps, he immediately felt a cold chill hit his skin. Regrettably, he didn't call Zayn for backup, because it took him quite some time to tie Harry up when he sat him down on the chair.

The handcuffs he had were metal and rattled loudly; it honestly surprised him Harry didn't wake up during the whole process.

And after finishing what should've been an easy task, Louis took a step back to admire his work.

All he saw a doll. Porcelain skin so smooth and contrasting with the dark clothing he was wearing. A long and slim body covering the whole chair. Though, he was slouched and unconscious, he looked delicate when he was limp. Dolls would envy him: envy his skin; envy his hair; envy his legs; envy his lips and most importantly they'd envy his owner, who'd try and take care of him.

Louis knew Harry wasn't a puppet but as he stared at the boy, lifeless and looking like the only possible way to make him move was by pulling a few strings.

He felt like a puppeteer.

With shaky breaths, Louis walked up the stairs to his room. As soon as he entered he fumbled around in his drawers, opening and slamming them shut frantically until he found what he was looking for.

It used to be his Dad's camera and Louis was always infatuated with it as it printed pictures immediately after he took them. There wasn't a flash on it, from what he could remember, but that didn't matter because the picture of Harry came out perfect.

Once again, where was the line? Who drew the line?

Louis had a feeling he'd already passed it.

******

"So you kidnapped him," Zayn repeated Louis' earlier words. It was late in the night and Harry still wasn't awake. He would've assumed he was dead if it weren't for the sight of his chest slowly moving up and down with each delicate breath he took.

Louis nodded as the two stared at the young boy.

"I just want to protect him, Zayn. I want him. I wanted him so I just took him," Louis explained.

"That's not how the normal world works, Louis. He's not a stray cat, he's a person and normally I'd be a little more cool about this but he's done nothing wrong. He isn't like us, he won't survive in our world," Zayn sighed like a parent who had to reprimand his child for doing something stupid.

"You have to help me, though," Louis pleaded, "I need him to not be mad at me."

"He's going to be mad, it's inevitable," Zayn said, making Louis groan in frustration.

"I know," he mumbled.

"Manipulate the anger." Zayn shrugged, watching Louis' face contort in confusion and curiosity. Realizing he'd have to elaborate, Zayn let out a huff as he looked at Harry's passed out figure. He grimaced. "He's going to be mad, just make him—make him mad at something else and not at you. Redirect the anger at something else, like that shit of a father you always talk about."

"Would he believe it?" Louis questioned.

Once again, his friend shrugged which he did more often than not.

"Sell it, Louis. Make him trust you. Make him so emotionally distraught, that all he has left is you." 

******

It was hours later that it happened. The basement was still freezing, the cold air surrounding Louis, suffocating him but not killing him. Nothing could kill him.

It was hours later that the boy's green eyes fluttered open, his vision blurred partially due to the bright light that had suddenly hit him. The pounding in his head began when he tried to think and remember where he was.

However, for some reason he couldn't. There was a part of his memory gone and he knew he wasn't in his home because it didn't feel like it. He didn't even realize he was tied up until several moments after he woke up, that's when he started to freak out.

And then all of a sudden he remembered everything.