Your touch, your skin, where do I begin?
No words can explain, the way I'm missing you
—Sam Smith, Lay Me Down
____________________________

Harry loved his job. He loved being an enforcer of the law and going to sleep with the satisfaction that he can protect his family. Though, now he feels defenseless.

"Listen, Harry." Liam's says, startling Harry. "I need to talk to you."

"Sure." Harry closes his folder and straightens his posture. "Is it about Mrs. Millard?"

Liam purses his lips. "Well, her lawyer is coming in later in the week, along with Mr. Millard. That's not what I came to talk about." He slowly sits in the chair across from Harry's desk, folding his hands on his lap and fiddling with the hem of his blue button-up. "I'm your friend, Harry, trust me, you're one of the closest ones I have in this tiny town but I've been letting this go on for as long as I can because you're one of the best goddamn officers in this joint. But you're too close to the case." His voice goes low.

"You're taking me off the case?" Is Harry's reply, the bewilderment evident in his voice.

"Not only that." Liam pauses. "Boss thinks you need a break." Liam was putting it lightly, saying Harry was fired but not fully-fired. He still had a chance, he didn't know how big that chance was.

Three beats pass, and Liam could see the gears turning in Harry's head. "I was reported, wasn't I?"

Liam's silence was enough.

Harry gulps. It was Micheal, Harry remembers two nights ago. The rage flowing through his veins. He was possessive of Louis, of someone who wasn't his. Louis hasn't been his for years, and for Harry to act as if they were together and assault Micheal was far out of line. He only wonders why it took Micheal so long to report him.

"When can I come back?" Harry's voice cracks and he wants to take his vulnerabilities from the air and hide them in his pocket. Instead, he stands and tries to keep his pride as he unpins his badge and his name-tag placing in it Liam's awaiting palm and lays everything on his belt on the table. His gun, his radio, everything.

"When you get yourself in order, and once you do," Liam breathes, "your things, your badge will be waiting for you."

Harry leaves after that. He takes his folder and hides his face in his parka as he walks passed all his colleagues and only makes eye contact with Niall for a moment. He slouches in his truck and puts his face in his hands. Harry wants to be calm, he wants to understand where Liam was coming from but he only got angrier. That was how he's always been; impulsive, melodramatic and straight-forward. Harry hated himself for being the way he was, he wishes he could clear the slate and create a whole other person with morally weighed values and balanced life.

Harry drives home without a second look at the police station, with the manila folder in his lap. The ride home is a blur, his mind clouded with the fact he has no job at the moment.

Ten minutes later, Harry arrives home. He slowly opens his truck door to step out, the snow crushing beneath his boots. The air is fresh against his flaming cheeks, and he welcomes it with open arms. With the manila folder in his hand, he walks up to his porch steps and unlocks his door. If he were a stranger, he would've thought the house was empty. It was dead silent, Harry could only hear his own soft breaths. He doesn't bother calling out for the hidden boy and instead slips off his boots before walking to his kitchen. He takes a tall bottle of wine and a glass from the cabinet then takes a seat at the dining table.

Harry sits there in his uniform and reads over the papers in the folder while sipping on his wine.

It's almost eleven in the morning when Louis patters down the stairs. He appears at the doorway, all beady-eyed and hair a mess. His blue eyes widen when he sees Harry, still in his uniform, sitting at the dining table.

"Good morning." Harry clears his throat, gaze falling on Louis' short figure in his plaid pants and white cotton long sleeve. "Are you hungry?"

Louis simply nods his head, steadily and cautiously as if Harry will lunge at him. He hasn't seen him properly for two days. After the incident, Harry's mother came and helped Louis to bed. And, Harry stood outside his bedroom door, only getting a glimpse of his form on the bed wrapped in covers. Harry went to work the day after, and the day after that. He's been a coward, not wanting to address what's eating him alive and here he was, feeling empty with the added bonus of the fact that he has no job to go to tomorrow.

Harry stands, his knees cracking and steps to the kitchen. He takes Louis' breakfast from off the counter and rips off the plastic wrap. He pops it into the microwave and awkwardly leans against the counter, Louis is still standing at the doorway.

"How are you feeling?" Harry asks, trying to break the tension. It was clogging up his lungs.

Seconds go by, and they stand just staring at one another. "What's that?" Louis shoots back, pointing at the opened manila folder on the table.

Harry stiffens and almost jumps when the microwave beeps. He takes the plate and sets it on the table, next to utensils and a napkin. "How did you sleep?" He avoids eye contact and shuts the folder before moving it across the table, away from Louis' wandering eyes.

"What are you hiding?"

That question strikes Harry off guard. Surely he was hiding a lot of things. His true feelings toward Louis was one of them, and Micheal Loughty's printed background check was another. Harry simply plays it cool and sips his wine, averting his eyes to his hands clasped on the table.

Moments turn into minutes and Louis is a quarter done with his breakfast when he can't take it anymore, he surges from his seat and swipes the folder toward himself but a much larger hand with a cross tattoo holds his captive. He's in a daze, watching Harry link their fingers in a warm grip. "Louis," He starts, trying to read Louis' facial expression. It's been so long since they've had physical contact, something so minor yet intimate as holding hands. "I need to talk to you."

Louis' chair squeaks when he sits down again, forcing himself not to pull away from Harry's familiar touch. Louis would say he's foolish to be craving the touch of Harry. But he was desperate and needed grounding, and at the moment, Harry was the only one to keep him from floating away.

"Micheal isn't the man you think he is."

That wasn't what Louis was expecting. He stays seated, his face twisting in confusion. He shakes his head slowly, Micheal was one of the few sweet reliefs in Jasper right now.

"He is unstable." Harry tries to simplify it. "He's been in and out of rehab, he's been a patient of Dr. Constantines for three years." He sees the look on Louis' face. "You don't even know this guy." He emphasizes.

"But you do?" Louis retorts, cheeks turning a light cherry colour. "You are invading his privacy—"

"I'm doing my job."

Louis raises both his eyebrows, yanking away his hand. "Micheal isn't a suspect, Micheal isn't bad, he's..." Louis' voice trails off, he's trying to find the right words. "He's lonely." Just like me.

"He's been into hard drugs since he was legal. He is bad news." Harry's tone turned ragged. "Paper doesn't lie, Louis," Harry exclaims. "You will get hurt with him."

"I'm going to get hurt whether or not I see Micheal." Louis huffs, he was all too tired to cry. "You have hurt me too. You have no say in how to keep me safe."

Each word punctured a knife into Harry's broken heart. But, Louis was right. He was always right and Harry was always impulsive. Harry can only beg, "Please don't say that."

Harry is left stunned as Louis stands from his seat and marches up the stairs, leaving Harry to absorb his words. Deep inside, Harry knew Louis was wrong. If Louis was telling the truth, and he firmly believed Harry was only leaving him vulnerable, he would be relentless in trying to get away from him. Louis wouldn't be staying under Harry's roof if he believed Harry couldn't keep him safe. Though now, Louis' words still tore at Harry's fresh wounds and even Harry was doubting if he could protect Louis.

He was continuously trying to climb a wall that kept growing, to row a boat up a waterfall. He was trying to keep Louis safe, and the defenseless side of Harry believes it is him that is the threat. He can't keep Louis safe if he's one to cause him harm. Life didn't work that way. But Harry wanted it to. He just wanted things to go right for once, for the world to be kind to him and to Louis. He couldn't stand back and watch their non-existent relationship fall into the depths of the ocean, he couldn't leave things without sealing it tight.

Harry did truly care for Louis, he always has.

"Louis," Harry knocks lightly on the door. "Can we talk, please?"

He receives no reply and leans closer to the door. A muffled sob has Harry hesitantly pushing the door open and meets with a tiny figure in the very corner of the room. Louis is curled with his face between his knees, hands in fists. His form is on a pile of blankets and pillows, and Harry sees that the guest mattress is bare.

"Louis," Harry steps into the room, Louis' room. The London boy's presence was everywhere, washing over the walls with his signature aura. "We need to talk." Again, no answer. "Louis, I care about you. It kills me that you think I don't. I'm trying, Louis. I'm still trying, but it's the hardest thing I've ever had to do." He tiptoes closer to the boy, feeling the air get thicker. "I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry that I mistreated you, I'm sorry that ignored you, I'm sorry that I left you, I'm sorry that I get jealous, I'm sorry that I'm stupid." Harry melts, falling to his knees, arms reach from Louis.

Louis looks up, eyes red and nose even redder. Heartache is visible on his face. He stands wordlessly and moves across the room, standing by the bedroom door. Harry just hopes he doesn't make a run to leave again. Harry rushes, "I'm sorry that I was gone—"

"That day, I was scared, I was alone." Louis' voice is smooth and wreaked, a velvet silk. "But most of all, I needed you."

Harry looks up from his hands, chest heavy when he sees how distraught the London boy is. "You needed me?"

"I did." His tone is sharp. "You have no clue what I told Dr. Constantine, you have no idea how much I have to relive every time he asks me to think about that monster." The tears continue to stream down, and he digs his nails into his palms. "Making me relive nightmares I forced myself to forget."

Harry sees Louis' eyes glaze over. "Blue."

The London boy is in a trance, blue eyes foggy and mouth parted. "The things Jackson did to me," his voice shakes. "His hands, his touch," Harry acts fast, Louis' knees buckle and he shoots up from his position. Louis' bones are stiff when Harry tugs him close before lowering them both to the floor. The boy's lips are forming one word, "fire."

Harry wraps his arms around Louis to keep him from shivering. Louis is still trembling, sitting between Harry's thighs, fingernails forced from his palms. Harry moves one of Louis' erratic hands to his face, making Louis look at him. "Stay with me, Louis." He drawls him from his spell. "Look at me."

Harry holds Louis' hand to his cheek, wincing when he feels one of his sharp nails. "Eyes up here, Blue," The man says louder this time. He moves one of Louis' hands to his own face, holding it gently. "You're here, Louis. Right here."

Louis breaks down when he meets Harry's eyes, letting out a choked sob. "Harry." He whimpers.

"I'm here too, Blue." Harry can feel Louis' muscles relax though, his chest is still rising and falling rapidly. Harry's eyes cascade down Louis' face. Over the distressed furrow between his high arched brows, and down the redness of his cheeks streamed with hot tears. To his pink lips, the saddest cries coming from his pretty pink lips. Harry's eyes trail down his neck, the smooth tan skin, and down the collar of the sweater. That's when Harry sees it. Small circular scars protruding from Louis' prominent collarbones. The divine skin marred and damaged from a cigarette. The place where Harry used to pepper kisses on, where Harry marked up with love-bites, now vandalized with immoral evidence of Jackson.

Anger erupts from Harry, and he wants to jump up and hunt Jackson down, but when he meets Louis' eyes again. He's captive under the weight of the pure misery swimming in the blue. "Is that what he did?" His voice has never been so soft.

Louis' next words awake the heightened anguish inside Harry. "Not only that."

There was still so much between them. Unspoken words, actions with missed opportunities but so many things were hidden. Louis' past was even hidden from himself, he kept it locked away and is only letting Harry see sliver by sliver.

Harry takes a shaky breath, not noticing he was crying until now. He feels the tears run down his face and to the corner of his mouth. "I'm sorry, Blue." Harry drags his hands down Louis' arms, gently squeezing the tender flesh. "I'm so sorry."

Louis' lips quiver, and he hiccups. "He hurt me."

Harry nods once, moving his hands to Louis' heated tear-stained cheeks. He leans close and feels Louis' irregular breath fan over his face. "I'm sorry." Is all he can say.

"You hurt me."

Harry pulls Louis closer until their foreheads touch and he bows their heads. Closing his eyes, wanting nothing but to rewind time and do things differently, do things right. "I'm so sorry."

Louis closes his eyes too, sniffling and he swallows the lump in his throat. "We hurt each other."

The green-eyed man makes a quiet noise of sorrow. "I know."

Louis' breath falls in place with Harry's, his tiny hands shakily reaching for the man's neck. He feels the warmth radiating from Harry's skin, the spotless skin. When his fingertips make contact with Harry's neck, he instantly feels the latter lean into his touch. Louis takes a firm grip, feeling Harry's hands move to the base of his neck.

Harry opens his eyes, seeing Louis already staring at him. "Blue." His gaze drops to Louis' lips, all pink and raw from his crying.

"Sun."

Harry feels comfort fly over his head, lifting the heavy weight off his shoulders. He couldn't believe Louis still remembered. Small images of their younger years spent in Louis' backyard in the comfort of his treehouse where they kissed and played cards. They spent hours talking about their extravagant plans for the future, unknowing of what fate had in store. Louis would ramble on about his hopes to be a famous race car driver, never growing out of his young boy dreams. You'll never be good enough to win the cup, Harry would tease. And you'll never be good the cool teacher all the kid's love, they're going to put a frog in your lunch bag and spread rumours about your weird pigeon feet, Louis would reply, knowing well about Harry's hopes of becoming a teacher, his caring nature one of his best qualities. Low blow, Blue, Harry would tackle Louis to the creaky wooden ground of the treehouse. Louis would burst into giggles, oh Sun, you know I adore your pigeon feet. Harry would be inches from his face, holding his arms above his head, Sun? Louis would hum, you're the sun. Harry would laugh in delight because life was good and Louis had his heart, he would lean closer and brush his lips along Louis', whatever you say, Blue.

Harry let's out a frustrated sob because times were so simple, and now everything is full of dread and what if's.

Louis pulls Harry close, desperate. "Kiss me." His voice cracks.

Harry starts crying all over again, his vision goes blurry and his heart yearns for Louis to repeat those words. "I can't."

"Kiss me." Louis tries again.

Harry shakes his head, crying harder because he knows Louis' brain is foggy and he needs reassurance. Louis in his right mindset would not want Harry to kiss him, much less hold him like he is. "Blue, I can't."

Louis' hands tighten their grip. "Harry, I want you to kiss me." His eyes search for Harry's unwavering nervous gaze.

"I can't." It pains Harry to deny Louis like this.

"Please." Louis is begging now, he bites his lip. "Please."

"I'm sorry." Harry murmurs. He knows if he fulfills Louis' wish to kiss him, to press his lips on his lips, he won't stop. Truth is, he misses Louis, but he just can't kiss him. He missed Louis' energy, his touch and the softness of his skin. He missed Louis' bright blue eyes and he missed the way Louis would touch him. He missed his kiss. He missed Louis.

Louis takes his hands and cradles Harry's face. He inches closer, lips parting to beg once more. "Kiss me, Sun."

There it is. That familiar desire filling Harry's veins. "I'm so sorry, Blue." He shakes his head again, running from Louis' open arms into his tower high above the clouds. He can't kiss him, not when he's like this, unstable and vulnerable. Harry is the same. He's forced to say no because if he does, he is setting himself up for Louis to break him down again. He doesn't want that. Harry grows weak, moving his head to bury in the warm crook of Louis' neck. He breathes deeply, smelling faint lavender from the body wash in Louis bathroom. He tightens his arms, bringing them both to the carpeted ground as Louis continues to beg for Harry to kiss him.

Harry lays them down, on the carpet by the door and cries harder every time Louis begs for his lips and sobbing when Louis calls him Sun.

NOTE: it's been so long. I'm sorry. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I promise that next week I will be more active so keep an eye out for another update.