"This fluttering love will not stay much longer in my chest. Soon it will fly like a falcon to its master..." —Rumi, Cry Out Your Grief
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The Millards were posh. Sitting in the cold plastic chairs and hands clasped on their laps. Mr. Millard was wearing a fitting grey and blue checkered suit, his tie perfectly centred and glasses on the tip of his pointy nose. Mrs. Millard sat with her back straight and in a deep blue dress with frills on the hem of the sleeves, and a shiny silver necklace dangled from her neck.

The tension was thick, and Liam was left to hastily check his watch and the door of the station for Harry.

"Are we going to start this interview soon?" Mrs. Millard asks, voice with no emotion at all. "My husband and I have an early dinner reservation."

Liam clears his throat, silently begging for Harry to pop up out of thin air. "My colleague is running late, I can assure you that you will both make your reservation." He promises curtly.

It was Mr. Millard's turn to speak. "I hope so. We are meeting with lawyers."

That strikes Liam's interest and his attention is drawn from the front door. "Why are you meeting with your lawyers?"

The two adults stare at him, their cold brown eyes making goosebumps rise on his skin. "When this interview is proven to be completely useless, we can't have this little mishap getting to the press, can we?" Mrs. Millard smiles and it's anything but sincere.

"Of course." Liam agrees, only to get himself loose of their gazes. At that moment, Harry rushes into the station, snow on his hat and on his shoulders. After him, trips in Louis, equally covered in snow and with thermos and take-out container in his hands. Liam turns to the Millards, a relieved smile taking over his features. "Officer Styles just arrived."

Half a second later, Harry walks into Liam's cubical and greets the man and woman. "Mr. and Mrs. Millard, nice to see you." He shakes both their hands politely. Once he sits in the chair next to Liam, he dusts the last bit of snow off his uniform.

"Where's Louis?" Liam lost sight of the London boy.

"With Niall," Harry answers before taking the papers from the table, he reads off it. "Thank you for coming in on such short notice." His words are directed to the Millards.

"Well, we didn't really have a choice when it was a call from the police station." Mr. Millard's throat rumbles when he chuckles.

Liam coughs into his elbow, the air turning cold again. "Let's get to business, shall we?" He reads off his computer screen. "On Thursday, December 30th, a couple who chose to remain anonymous brought in a man after they found him knocking on their door at their house by Peektoe lake. The man they brought in had traces of gamma-hydroxybutyrate in his system and was diagnosed with a minor case of PTSD."

"This doesn't sound like it concerns us nor our son, Officer Payne." Mr. Millard furrows his bushy brows. His lips in a scowl.

Harry speaks up this time. "The man claimed to be an escaped victim from your estate by Peektoe lake. He told us he was taken on December 24th and that his kidnapper's name was Jackson. We fit the pieces together." He clasps his hands. "I myself went over to your estate by the lake and got a warrant to search the place." He takes photos from a beige folder and faces them toward the Millards. "My team and I found this in the basement."

It was a picture of an old dark room, completely clean, except for an unmistakable outline of where was once a bed, dresser, and desk. The next photo was of a clean white room, with a doctor office-like lounge chair and a neat cabinet of different drugs.

"That basement hasn't been touched in years. I'm not surprised by the suspicion it may have." Mrs. Millard says dismissively. "And that room is for our son's medical training."

"A whole room?"

"He needs practice." Mrs. Millard states.

"Do you know where your son was on the night of December 24th?" Liam asks.

Mrs. Millard shoots her husband a confused glance. "I told you over the phone that our son has been in medical school in London." Her earrings glimmering in the dull station light.

Liam blinks. "And the victim brought in is originally from London. We checked your son's purchases from the night before and on the list was syringes."

"Our son is in medical school, it's in the curriculum to buy such things." Mrs. Millard's voice lowers.

"If I'm not mistaken, your son is only in his second year, yes?"

"Correct."

"And has he ever done something along the lines of illegal before?"

"Well—"

Mr. Millard glares. "I'm sorry, Officer Styles but are you insinuating that our son kidnaped this man from England and brought him all the way here, to Jasper?"

"Look, Mr. Millard, the evidence is clear." Liam cuts in. "And we have enough of it to bring your son to court."

The Millards remain rigid. "What is the couple's name?" Mr. Millard asks.

"I'm afraid I can't disclose that information." Liam collects the papers and slips them back into the folder.

Mrs. Millard grabs his wrist, stopping him from collecting the last sheet. "Officer Payne, we are very well-known people. That couple may have it out for it us and are lying and wasting all of our time." Her red lips in a thin line.

Harry swipes up the last sheet and takes the folder, keeping it close to him. He distracts himself with a blue pen, he truly wishes he were deaf so he wouldn't have to hear Mr. and Mrs. Millard desperately try to save their guilty son. The anger is almost unstoppable as it rises to the very peak.

"I can confirm that the couple is absolutely innocent in this, Mrs. Millard."

"What about the boy, hm?" She asks. "He may be wanting to get some publicity, maybe some money."

"You know Mrs. Millard, the evidence is right in front of you but you are choosing to look past it. You are choosing to be blind to the fact that your son drugged and kidnapped an innocent man—

"Harry."

"—You can't see that your son is a sick bastard—"

"Harry," Liam booms sharply, shutting his friend up. He faces the Millards', their faces a mixture of shock and offend. "If you tell us where your son is, we can be done with this case."

"By done, you mean arresting him?" Mrs. Millard scoffs.

"Yes."

"Unfortunately, we have no clue about our son's whereabouts." Mr. Millard gathers his coat and helps Mrs. Millard stand. He holds her hand and huffs in anger. "Our lawyers will contact you shortly." With that, the man and woman are out of the cubical and walking toward the station door.

Louis is in the middle of playing tic-tac-toe with Niall when Harry appears once again, and the man looks exhausted.

"Did they tell you were Jackson is?" Niall asks, saving Louis the effort.

"No, and they're getting their lawyers involved." Harry breathes out, glancing at Louis carefully.

"They don't believe me." Louis comments, with a shrug, trying to mask his hurt. He'd much rather not cry in front of everyone in the station. The weight was so heavy, it was just like a waterfall. Never ending, always going and never giving him a break. How the Millards could refuse to believe that their son is a monster is beyond him. His one chance at closure, and it's gone before he could even ghost his fingertips on it.

"Louis," Niall tries but the London boy stands and bolts to the washroom, his face buried in his hands.

Louis' been crying the bathroom for a few moments. He felt so helpless and like he had lost all his senses. The tears are streaming down his face when he hears the door open.

"Why would I lie?" Louis asks miserably from his spot on the cold tiles. His face in between his knees as he sobs into his hands, he feels so small like one drop of water could drown him. "You believe me, don't you?"

He hears the person step closer, the door shut and feels their hands grasp his elbows gently. Their fingers gracing his cold skin.

"No," Louis squirms. He gets hysterical, sobs coming out like chokes of air. "Leave me here. I deserve to just sit here," he hiccups, "and just—" Die.

It's the truth, all chances of Louis gaining any part of himself was ripped away. He felt like he wanted to die when he was with Jackson, now Louis feels like death isn't enough, he needs to be completely erased and forgotten. He feels like that already. His thoughts were so poisonous.

"Louis," Harry's voice was like caramel, the complete opposite of the ice cold rain it was when he first arrived in Jasper. "Stand up."

"No," Louis whimpers when his hands are torn from his face. The mess of snot and tears now visible. He stares into Harry's green eyes, "I want to die, Harry." He confesses nothing but pain and hurt dripping from his words.

A part of Harry cracks, it was the shell of his utter distrust to Louis. The London boy was so enchanting and so sad, so enchantingly sad. He runs a hand through Louis' hair, carefully so. "Shh," he murmurs. He pushes aside the reason for his hatred to Louis and hides it deep in the corner of his brain. He tries to forget what Louis did to him, and he almost has but it will always be there—reminding him that the world is so unfair. So beautiful and so unfair.

Note: not fully satisfied with this but hey, it needed to be written. Hope u all liked it Xx

New update on April 8th at 9:00 pm EST.