Loss was something Louis had felt all through his life, even as short as it had been.

The first time he felt loss was when his parents had dropped him at the footsteps of the academy with not even a backward glance. He was six, or seven, he wasn't really sure now, could barely even recall what they had looked liked.

What he did remember were those frowns, those eyes devoid of any feeling, the dread seeping through him as he tried to run back to them but was pushed to the hard ground by his father, the cold chilling his arms, the sting on his leg where he had cut himself. It was his right leg, he knew, the scarring had left behind a pale mark just below his knee. He used to pick at it in the beginning, making it bleed over and over again to feel something other than dread.

When it had finally healed, he had been confused to see the pale mark, he had wanted to pick at it but had failed. It had been agonising.

The second time he felt loss was in the minutes following the first event, being dragged into the unknown place by a man he had never seen in his life. A woman directing him to a cold, white room and examining him like he was a foreign specie rather than a child. It was worrisome how vividly he remembered that experience. He had forgotten the faces of the people who had given birth to him, but he still knew that woman's face like the back of his hand; her dark hair, her cold voice, the disgust in her brown eyes, the upturn of her nose as she looked down at him.

He remembered the slap, it had rung in his ears, had made his mouth wobble and his eyes tear up. He had refused to take his clothes off and that had resulted in that harsh slap, the woman's ring had left a mark that lasted for mere hours. It hadn't even bled, but somehow it was worse than the stinging in his leg.

He had lost his freedom then, and his childhood, unaware that it was only the beginning of the hill he was tumbling down from.

The third time he had felt loss, he was fourteen years old. Louis had only had a single friend in that cold, dark place. It wasn't necessarily cold, or dark, but in his memories it had always occurred so. Maybe because he associated that place with something unpleasant, something harsh, something so vile and opposite to what he had now.

He had lost his only friend, never knowing who had taken him away, who had bought him and taken away the only person who had made him feel safe in a long time. Sebastian. He was kind and helping, he had kept Louis safe from punishments, had held him when he cried, had calmed him down when he was angry.

Louis wondered where he was now. If he hadn't been so selfish, he would have found out. Louis was a bad friend, and a bad submissive. He wondered if there would ever be something he would be good at. Thinking back, people around him had somehow always left him, it wouldn't be a surprise if history repeated itself.

The fourth time he had felt loss was when he vowed to never get attached, he had lost his personality then. He had become someone who would never give his trust easily, who would never let anyone take him like they took his friend. And so he became a notorious submissive, he was labelled ill mannered, when in reality, he was only trying to preserve the pieces of himself that were left.

The fifth time he had felt loss was when he was bought out of the academy, his only chance at freedom had slipped away from his fingers. He had tried everything he could to prevent that from happening and still fate had played its game and denied him his freedom.

In retrospect, he didn't hate the fifth loss, he had gained so much out of that loss. It had given him love... love was something he bad been depraved of his whole life. His parents had failed to love him. Why bring him into this world if only to abandon him?

It had given him a home, not only as a place but as a person, too. It had given him his laughter, something he thought he had lost forever. It had made him realise he could love and be loved in return, that he could be more than someone the academy had told him to be.

Louis had not realised how many of his own demons he had buried and locked away, keeping those memories far, far away from himself. He had pretended as if all that hurt and pain had been a nightmare, one worse than ghosts, or even death.

It was all catching up to him, and he was finding it difficult to bury it down again.

He had been abandoned.

He had been hurt and humiliated.

He had lost his only friend.

He had been cast aside for asking to be human.

But then he was saved, and loved, and cherished. He was allowed to be whatever he wanted to be. He was heard and respected. He was allowed to be human again.

He would be unable to bear another loss. He would break if he lost Harry. He would crumble and fall, shatter into a million pieces, and if Harry would not be there to put him back again, then he would never be whole again.

So, he had to be strong, for time being. He had to hold his own pieces together, so that he could glue Harry back.

He had to let Harry heal at his own time, so that he could heal himself, too.

They were both broken, and they needed each other to be complete.

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