Breathe Me - Chapter 16 (Harry/Louis)
Title: Breathe Me - Chapter Sixteen
Pairing: Harry/Louis
Summary: Neither Harry, nor Louis, knew what they were getting into when they boarded the Titanic that day. Nobody could have prepared them for what was about to happen to them, because nobody knew just how much their lives would change within the next few days.
AN: 1) Again, i'm sorry this has taken so long. Blame exams and real life. 2) This is short because I've planned out the rest of this story and it ended on chapter eighteen so I'm splitting chapters up to make it end on chapter 20 instead. 20 is a nice number, nicer than 18.
Neither Harry nor Louis know whether to be relieved or worried when corridor after corridor were revealed to be empty. On the one hand, it meant people were safe, that they weren't going to die without even being given the chance to try and change their fate, but on the other it made Louis question just how long they had before it was too late for Harry and him to get out of the maze that was the inner workings of the ship. And so they ran - a feat made difficult with the pressure of the water below their knees, the wet material of their clothes clinging to them, weighing them down - up past open doors and scratched walls with the lights flickering above them, battered briefcases left floating in the water, books and papers discarded, bobbing up and down as the ink began to smudge, words filtering into one another.
“Wait, wait - hold up.” Louis breathed, swallowing down air as he waded to the edge of the hallway. Harry frowned, confused and suddenly anxious as the warm heat that had been pressing against his palm only few seconds previous was now gone. He hadn't realised the effect Louis' presence had had on his nerves until then.
Louis stoops, picking something up before rising again and Harry's eyes dart to the life jacket in his hands. “Put this on.” he said, crossing back over to where Harry stood in the middle of the hallway.
“Lou, there's only one.” Harry swallowed, eyes focussing on Louis' own. He watches as Louis nods, lithe fingers pulling at the ties until they unravel. “I'm not wearing that unless you've got one, too.”
Louis arched an eyebrow before raising his arms, pulling the jacket down over Harry's head. “Don't be a martyr, love.”
“Dammit, Louis.” Harry huffed, shrugging it off. “I know you don't want to hear this, but you're not as strong as me. You would have been trapped underwater back there if it hadn't been for me and if we - when we make it out of here, I’m not going to be able to pull you up when this ship does down. The suction will be too strong. So please,” he said, voice cracking. “take it. Don't be self-sacrificial.”
Silently, Louis reached out to take the life jacket from Harry. His features were softer, as if faced with the true severity of the situation. Once it was on, he fumbled with the ties at his sides, fingers shaking, until Harry's hands covered his own. “Thanks,” he said softly, as Harry formed a tight knot on either side.
Harry smiled slightly, hands coming to rest on Louis' hips. “Now would probably be an inappropriate time to remind you that I love you, wouldn't it?”
Louis breathed out a laugh, biting at his lip. “Probably, yes. But I like hearing it anyway.”
Shaking his head, Harry linked his fingers with Louis' and squeezed. It was an act that reassured the both of them, let them know they were both really there and were, in that moment, alright. “Come on,” he said. “Let's find your friends.”
Louis let himself be guided, “Our,” he smiled. “Our friends.”
Harry ducked his head, warmth rising to his cheeks; he had never really had friends before. His father had never approved of the people he liked, and the ones his father did, Harry couldn't stand. He had resigned himself, eventually. Learned to accept that he had his sister to confide in and, when Denis was out, he had his mother. But then Louis had happened. Louis, with his bright personality and inner fire, shining like a beacon in a storm. Harry had never courted before, he had never had the occasion nor interest to; Phillipa had been assigned to him as some sort of trophy wife - an industrial benefit that their fathers had planned. He didn't know that when you loved a person they were not only your partner, but also your best friend. Harry hadn't known that Louis was his friend, that with Louis came Zayn, Lottie and, now, Niall. He didn't know, not until then.
Louis smiled at him, raising their joined hands to place a kiss on his knuckles. It was a sweet gesture, one that under any other circumstances would have had Harry leaning to kiss Louis properly, giggling against his lips as they pressed against each other, finding peace and comfort in each others' embrace. At that point in time, however, the relief didn't last for long.
The ship groaned again, shaking beneath their feet as the current of the water beneath them both picked up and rose higher, moving faster and almost breaking their stances. The sound of it was almost deafening, frighteningly so. Louis had always thought the sound of running water was peaceful, soothing; He'd spent so many nights under bridges or up against the bark of a willow tree, a lake nearby and the sound lulling him to sleep. He didn't think he'd be able to do that again, if he survived. Not without dreaming of this.
“Just so you know,” Louis said nervously, clenching his free hand into a fist. “I really love you, too.”
And with that, they ran. Harry knew they weren't too far from the next staircase, a minute or two at maximum, but he what he didn't know was if he and Louis would make it there before the water caught up to them.
The ship was tilting, the floor becoming gradually steeper. Louis had to let go of Harry's hand in order to move a bedside table out of their way, one that was bobbing up and down in the water and had more than likely come from the room ahead of them, door wide open and swaying under the pressure of the flow. When they passed it, he grabbed Harry's wrist, hand sliding down until he reached his fingers. Louis' hand was wet, now. Cold. Harry's lips quaked, a blue tint to the once sinfully pink flesh, and Louis briefly considered letting go so that he wouldn't have as much contact with the cold, but Harry's grip tightened under his own, a silent reassurance.
“That left, there, the one just ahead.” Harry stuttered, keeping pace with Louis. “That's the one.”
They made it to the staircase, climbing up without too much difficulty, though Louis' grip slipped from the banister. The water was shallower there, yet they both knew that it wouldn't stay that way for long. Harry felt as though his heart was beating in his throat, filling it up and making it next to impossible to breath easily. He tasted fire on his tongue and in his chest, the bruises left on his body from Denis' lesson slowly adding to the burn, but it was all a sharp contrast to the ice biting at the rest of his body.
The pain was a reminder, though. Harry didn't know if his father would have truly used the bullets, he didn't know if Denis felt any shred of hesitancy when he pulled the gun on he and Louis, and he didn't know if he ever felt sorry for beating his family. What Harry did know, however, was that he owed his life to that man. He knew he was the man that, at four years old, Harry addressed as Daddy and tried to imitate in his every move and action, he knew that Denis was the one to teach Harry politics, how to ride, to shoot and clean a rifle. He knew he hated him with most of his being, yet loved him with all. He knew that he hoped Denis was okay, that he had a way off, even if it was his fault that him and Louis were where they were then.
“We're nearly there, darlin'.” Louis breathed heavily, leaning back against the wall so that Harry could pass through the gateway in front of him, and he did, reaching back blindly to grab Louis' hand, tugging him forwards.
“As much as I appreciate it,” Harry said, gaze flickering between the far end off the hallway and the water level around them, “I don't think we have time for chivalry.”
“Damn,” Louis grinned, continuing in spite of the protest from his lungs. “How am I supposed to woo you off of your feet now?”
Harry chanced a glance over his shoulder, smile bright and cheeks pale. “You're just going to have to marry me.”
“Glad I’m not alone in thinking you'd look absolutely dashing in a dress. Maybe Lottie could design it for you.”
Louis was an idiot, Harry thought with a smile. They could die there and then, drowned in a ship that was never meant to sink, and he still had it in him to joke. Although, when he spared it some thought, Harry knew that if these were their last moments he wouldn't want to change them at all.