They Don’t Really Love You

"Don't you care about us? We're your children!"

"Unfortunately!"

Harry shut his mouth and blinked a few times, not expecting that to leave Des' mouth. He took a small step back and glanced to the door briefly before looking back at Des who was shaking in anger.

He looked like he was dying.

His eyes were red around the rim, he had a terribly untamed scruff around his mouth and down to his neck, scattered like ashes. He was a mess and it was far too late for Harry to help him out of whatever loop he was circulating in.

"You don't...you don't mean that," Harry whispered in disbelief, "you can't possibly mean that!" Des rolled his eyes.

"You just bitch and moan all day about me. 'Des, get a job, Des, stop drinking'. Fuck, I wish someone would have told me not to have any fucking kids," Des snickered bitterly and shook his head slowly. His eyes never shone anymore and Harry missed that. He missed his dad.

He had been acting strange for a month and a half and it was only getting worse. He just knew it had to be the drugs he was taking. He's been so distant and cold, abusive to Harry more than he ever had been when he was drunk. He used to push him or call him names, but now he's so much more physical.

And he never even remembered it once he sobered up.

"Des."

"Oh, piss off, Harry."

"All we want is for you to stop using and asking for our savings. We have fantasies and dreams, too," Harry exasperated, throwing down a bunch of opened envelopes on the coffee table. "We have bills to pay! You already cost us our last house, now we can barely afford to live in this shit hole! You need to stop!" Des glared at him with his glazed over eyes and Harry knew there was no getting through to him.

"I'm your dad, don't you want to help me?! Instead, I have to worry about the fucking bills?!" Des' eyes were big and he took a wide step forward, leaning towards Harry who tried his best to not look away.

"We've been trying to help. You don't let us and that's your problem!" Harry yelled. "We can't keep going through the same shit over and over again! You either need to go get help or leave. You aren't doing any good by staying here—"

"—I'm not doing any good? What good have you done for me, huh? You money eating little shit!"

"Des, are you serious?" Harry wiped the side of his face and heavily sighed, speaking up before Des could. "Everything we do is for you and mum, you just don't appreciate it. Gemma has to work the night shift on top of her normal job because you keep taking our money."

"She works night shift cos she-she's a whore," Des scoffed and Harry gasped. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"What? How the fuck could you say that?! She's your daughter!" Harry's head was spinning. Was this really happening? Was he really arguing with his dad? It was like talking to a brick wall.

"She's a shit daughter. And you're worse. Good for nothing, I got so much shit done when I was your age and look at you. You're mentally ten years old, always skipping and joking about because you can't deal that your dad's a crackhead, innit?" Des' tone was malicious and he was doing everything he could to make Harry upset.

Harry's blood was boiling, but he didn't know how much more of this fighting he could take. He hated confrontation. His hands were shaking and he was scared. But he didn't want to back down from this man anymore. He can't stand having an true fight with anyone, but he couldn't just let his father diminish everything he's worked so hard for. He won't let him treat him this way.

"I'm working nearly everyday to help pay for this house and school, I'm going to school to be a surgeon, and I help take care of you because you're so plastered most of the time that you can barely stand. How could you say I'm good for nothing? You had help from your parents. My dad is the one trying to take everything I've worked so hard for and burn it to the ground!" Harry yelled, his anger diminishing to fear when Des raised his beer bottle, his hand clenched tightly around the neck. "Just get a job," Harry sighed, trying to keep his fear at bay. "That's all we ask of you."

"My job is to do whatever the hell I want, so don't you start on that!" Des threw the bottle at Harry, just barely missing his head. Harry watched as the bottle shattered when it hit the wall and he felt his throat tighten. And as usual, Des walked out of the living room.

The second he left, Harry's knees buckled and he fell to the floor. He looked back at the shattered bottle and he began to breathe heavily. He felt like his inside were being crushed by his tightening rib cage. His brain felt fuzzy and he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. He hated it. He hated how his dad treated him and how it all shows that Des just doesn't give a shit anymore.

And that scared Harry because he's always dreamed of being in a perfect family but Des was ruining that chance.

Harry sighed, feeling a heavy knot in his throat and slowly glanced up at the time. He had to go to work now. He doesn't know if he'll be able to keep up with the customers and other responsibilities during his shift, but he left for work anyway.

He didn't have the luxury to take time off.

******

Harry wasn't surprised his feeling was right. He couldn't concentrate which led him to not being able to keep up with orders and the ones he did do, he screwed them up.

Finally, the rush the café normally got around this time had subsided and he was able to get his groove back. He prepared drinks and desserts and watched with longing as the few customers laughed amongst each other. They were so clueless.

Harry knew that everyone had their own problems even if they were grinning wide but he couldn't help feel a twang of jealousy when he saw smiles on their faces when his was stuck in a frown.

Around his break shift, he left the café and walked on the cobblestone steps behind the café. He sat near the alleyway which held rubbish carts and huge recycling bins. He stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets and stretched his dangly legs out in front of him.

A slight breeze swept his hair away from his face and nipped at his nose. He gently tucked his chin deeper into his zipped up jacket so only half his face was showing. He willed himself not to cry.

This wasn't the first time he fought with his dad, but it hurt still. They were always worsening and he hated arguing. Harry hated getting angry and talking back in a way that people would think was rude of him.

"Hey," a sudden whisper interrupted his thoughts. Harry abruptly looked up and saw Louis standing tall behind him.

"Hi," Harry replied quietly and opened his zip a little bit to sound clearer. He didn't really want to talk to Louis. Louis always made him laugh and he didn't want that. He wanted to wallow in sadness because his life seemed to be getting worse the more he tried to change it around.

He didn't feel like being happy.

"You not feeling well?" Louis gently sat down next to Harry, hardly making any noise which bothered Harry.

"Not really..."

"Yeah, the tea didn't taste nice as it usually does." Louis smiled at Harry sympathetically. Harry looked up at him with uninterested eyes, looking ahead of him a second later.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled.

"Don't be. So, what's wrong?" Louis thought that Harry looked extremely adorable when he was sad, even though Louis disliked the fact that he was sad in the first place.

"Family," Harry said and shrugged.

"Hm." Louis knew it was his dad that was the problem. It had to be. "Wanna talk about it?"

"I feel like...everything is going to shit. Like. I don't know." Harry looked away from Louis and pouted, biting his top lip.

He's so sad, he can't even speak properly. And that angered Louis.

"Do you want to go somewhere when your shift is over?"

"I don't know..." Harry hesitated. "I just want to sleep."

"I can help you sleep." Harry frowned at his words but didn't glance at Louis just yet. "I mean, I'll take you somewhere nice and you can sleep there if you want. It'll calm your mind, you deserve to be looked after."

"Where?"

"I'll think of a place whilst you finish and then I'll let you know. Is that fine?" Louis raised an eyebrow and Harry nodded numbly, hardly thinking of anything. He didn't want to think.

"Yeah."

"Look, I wish you would see the masterpiece that you are. I hate that you're not being treated with love and care and respect. If no one gives you that, Harry, leave them. I'll cherish you." Harry felt like crying.

He was so overwhelmed by Louis' words and so fed up with the way he was treated. He was so done with this shit world and everything inside it. He just wanted to curl up in a ball, be tucked under the duvet in a dark room with the curtains pulled and his hot mug of tea on the bedside table as the sweet sounds of Fleetwood Mac echoed in the room from his playlist. He just wanted time to himself.

Louis hugged Harry. He put his arm around his shoulders and smiled when Harry easily tucked himself against Louis' chest and clutched onto his black suit with shaking fingers.

******

When his shift finished, Harry pulled his jacket on and didn't bother covering up entirely. He said bye to no one in particular over his shoulder and shut the door behind him. He had been thinking hard throughout his shift and decided that it was best for him to just head home and hope that Louis forgot about his promise to take him somewhere nice.

Unfortunately, Louis was standing in front of a shiny black Mercedes-Benz G-Class. Harry was impressed at the jeep's clean state but didn't bother showing it. He slowly walked to the parked car that was definitely better up close.

"You ready to go?" Louis opened a door and Harry found it weird that Louis wanted him to sit in the back rather than the front beside.

"Um...yeah," Harry whispered unsurely. "Why am I sitting in the back?" He asked cautiously, his heart racing a bit. Something didn't feel right.

"Well, I'm going to be your chauffeur today, make you feel like the royalty you truly are." Louis pressed a kiss to Harry's cheek comfortingly and ushered him. He shut the door jogged to the driver's side and sat in the car.

"Louis, could you actually just take me home, please?" Harry watched as Louis tensed in the driver's seat, his body staying still.

"Home?" Louis' body moved as he started the car but he was still incredibly tense. His biceps were bulging and Harry could see how tight he was gripping the steering wheel.

He frowned at Harry through the rearview mirror. Harry's pained eyes met his and he slowly nodded.

"I'm not feeling well. I'd rather be at home. I want to talk to Gemma and my parents," Harry said slowly. He felt a flood of sudden yearning to be with his family fill his heart. Maybe to even be with Des.

"With him? Your scum of a father?" Louis spat. Harry felt like he misheard him. He had to have, there's no reason they would have ever met.

"You know my dad?"

"Everyone knows the crackhead." Louis shrugged seemingly uninterested, but the disgust in his voice showed his true feelings."He doesn't deserve you. Don't go back to him." Harry knew something was wrong. His heart started racing as his adrenaline kicked in. The look in Louis' eyes terrified him.

"I don't care, I want to go home. They're my family and even though Des can be heartless at times, he's still my father and I love him. I love all of them. I can't just abandon them when things get hard." Harry unbuckled his seatbelt as he heard Louis sigh.

"I can't, Harry, I don't want you to be upset because of him," Louis pleaded.

"Easier said than done. Look, Louis, I know you're looking out for me and I really appreciate it but I just, I'm so tired. I just want to sleep and be in my room." Harry maintained eye contact with Louis through the mirror and watched as Louis looked to his window before back at Harry.

That was when Harry heard the doors lock.

"Louis, what are you doing?" Harry questioned, his voice shaking the slightest bit.

"I'm taking you home," he answered, watching how Harry's face paled.

"But why did you lock the doors?" Harry asked frantically.

Then, for the first time, he looked around the car and felt uneasy as he saw what occupied the front seat. A cloth, a knife and a bottle with a small print label.

Louis watched Harry's eyes and smirked when he noticed the chloroform.

"I won't use them if you cooperate." Tears spring to Harry's eyes as he desperately tried to get out of the car.

"Let me out," Harry demanded, unable to take his eyes off the weapon. "Let me out now, Louis!"

"Harry, I just want you to be safe. I want you to be happy—"

"Then let me go home!"

"I am taking you home. To your new home."

"Shut up and let me out! I want to walk home by myself!"

"But you don't know how to get there," Harry started banging his hands on the window, trying to break the glass.

"Somebody help me!" He screamed desperately.

Something inside Louis snapped as twisted his body to glare at Harry who gulped nervously. Harry took his phone out of his pocket and started dialing 999.

Louis reached to the other seat and lunged for the knife.

"Hello, emergency. What service do you require?"

"I'm being kidnap—" Harry flinched when Louis reached back and grabbed the phone, ending the call.

"I really wish you wouldn't have done that." Harry trembled as Louis turned to his front seat with anger written all over his face.

"Louis, Louis, please—"

"Just relax, Harry, I won't hurt you. Ever. Not like he did to you." Louis picked up the chloroform and cloth and climbed into the backseat. He pinned Harry's struggling body down as he pour the liquid onto the cloth. He wished he picked something stronger than chloroform so Harry would be asleep faster. All he wanted was to sleep.

Harry was shaking, he could do nothing but struggle and try to push him away. His throat was tightening and he felt his stomach convulse as it threatened to empty out the contents in fear.

He mumbled helplessly for the older man to get off him when he pressed the cloth to his face. His nose and mouth were covered by a thick, creamy cloth that made it harder for him to breathe through. He felt his mouth run dry and his nostrils stung as air slipped in laboriously.

Soon, his mind went fuzzy and his vision blurred. He couldn't focus on one thing before his eyes blinked slowly.

Until they eventually stayed shut.

Louis listened to Harry's slowed breathing in the back seat. He was laid him down across the seats and gently took the boy's boots off. He took the phone threw it out of the window, hearing a crunch as his tires drove over it.

"They don't know how to look after a fragile China doll but don't worry, Harry, I've got you."