Louis was in good shape—he could run, and run fast. On top of that, he had endurance. Harry did not. But what the fuck good would that do him if he didn't know where Harry had gone? There were so many shops Harry could have ducked into- the nearby mall too, even the pasture where they'd escaped, alleyways, nooks and crannies every-fucking-where. Harry could be virtually anywhere.

Still, Louis ran, not even aware of the strange looks people gave him as he whizzed by. Which way should he turn? Right? Left? Or keep going straight? He could be running in the wrong direction altogether, as far as he knew.

After a few miles, he had to slow down. He'd almost tripped a few times while rubber-necking, with the unlikely hope of seeing Harry. He had pushed too hard instead of pacing himself. Now he was out of breath. He needed to get a grip and try to think rationally while he got his air back.

So he began hitting every business he came to, walking in and asking if anyone had seen a tall young man with long dark curly hair. All he got were more disdainful looks and negative answers. After asking dozens of people and not getting one shred of encouragement, not to mention any leads, the reserved Swedes making his endeavor to find Harry even more difficult, Louis started wondering if this was futile.

He must look a sight, his hair blown every which way, still damp from his shower. Kind of like that time 1D had gone on a roller coaster, having to answer a quiz while the thing was running, with cameras on them. If his hair looked anything like that, it was no wonder the already scornful Swedes were even more contemptuous and unwilling to help.

A few people recognized him, and that put him on edge, because if they recognized him, they would definitely recognize Harry. And that brought up the danger factor for Harry again. His mind ran in endless circles.

What if Harry was already back at the hotel, wondering where Louis was? What if he was already miles from here, having taken a taxi? Louis sure hoped he wouldn't be foolish enough to take a bus. Louis knew Harry had enough money to get by for a while, and that knowledge helped somewhat. That was, if he'd remembered his damn wallet. But the panic was nevertheless building steadily. Harry might even have a room in a hotel by now. Louis just hoped his lover practiced caution and vigilance. He didn't want him out, walking the streets!

Two more hours convinced Louis that Harry wasn't going to be easy to find. He decided to go back to the hotel, in hopes that Harry would be there.

He wasn't. Louis looked around as if he might be able to find something that would give him a clue to Harry's whereabouts. But of course that wouldn't happen, as he'd seen Harry split, and Curly had only taken time to grab a hoodie and hat. He picked up the pants Harry had worn yesterday and searched the pockets. No wallet. Good. At least Harry had had the good sense to take it. He must have transferred it to the pants he was wearing today when he'd gotten dressed. There was no evidence Harry had been back to the room since his departure either.

Shit! Louis' hand brushed against something in the shirt pocket Harry had worn yesterday. His cell phone! He'd left it behind! Now not only could Louis not call him, but Harry couldn't call him either, or call for help if he needed it. Louis' panic stepped up to a new level knowing Harry had no phone.

All he could do now was wait. Wait and hope Harry came back. In the next hour, Louis made no less than thirty trips out to the balcony to comb the streets with his blue eyes, looking for the one person in the world he wanted to see.

Louis wanted so badly to hit the streets again, but with no clue where to go, it would be fruitless. He thought about going to a pub, bar, or whatever they called them here, and have a couple of drinks to try to calm down. He thought about taking a Xanax. He didn't do either one, however. He wanted his senses as sharp as they could possibly be in case he needed to go to Harry's rescue.

He'd forced Harry into this without even meaning to! He'd pulled a stupid little stunt, and it had escalated to something sinister. And now Harry was running—just as he had done metaphorically for the last two years, only now it was literally. He knew Harry wasn't running from him though. It was just the fear that had overwhelmed the Cheshire lad. Mild mannered Harry didn't do confrontation well at all, and the thought of facing Simon had him spooked to the point that he had lost all reason.

He hadn't really let Harry have a say in all this. He'd just forged ahead and taken the reins. He had only been his take-charge self, but with a massive screw-up-he hadn't been mindful of what Harry might want. Harry wanted a forever with him, yeah. He didn't doubt that. But he hadn't really given Harry a choice about confronting Simon. God, he felt like such a dick-head.

Oh my God! What time is it? He hadn't even looked at his watch when they had gotten up. A glance at it now told him they'd slept a little later than he'd thought. But it was no wonder- they'd been up until it had gotten light outside. It was already fucking noon! They had to be at the airport in two hours!

Louis grabbed his cell phone, turned it on, and punched in Liam's number, cussing himself out that his phone hadn't been on, in case Harry had tried to call him in the event Harry had had access to a phone. Louis and Harry had had their phones turned mostly off for the duration they'd been here at the hotel. They'd turned them off when they made love, and sometimes forgot to turn them back on.

"Tommo! I was gonna call if I didn't hear from you in an hour," answered Liam.

"Liam, I have a problem. Harry's gone missing. Have you seen him?" Louis was almost as sure as he could be that Harry wasn't with the other lads, but he had to ask the question. Holding his breath, he waited.

"No, Lou. Haven't seen nor heard from him." Liam waited patiently for Louis to spill it.

"Well, it's a long story, but we had a . . . moment. Not a misunderstanding or anything, but Harry panicked and ran. I mean literally ran."

"From where? The hotel room?"

"Yeah. By the time I got me shoes on to go after him, I couldn't find him. He could be anywhere. I'm worried sick, Li."

"Yeah . . ." Liam's voice was full of sympathy. "I can only imagine. Think he'll be back in time to board the plane?"

"I honestly don't know."

"He was that upset?" Liam was really alarmed now.

"Yes. I'll explain it all later. Right now I have to find him. Any ideas?"

"Have you tried asking 'round?"

"Everywhere. Businesses, people walking on the street, stores . . ." Louis' voice was cracking. "I ran like a crazed person and covered all the streets 'round here for miles. No one seems to have seen him. He's not in disguise. He had a hat and hoodie—that's it. I'm afraid someone will recognize him."

"Yeah, by now you'd think he'd know what a hazard it is for him to be out there."

"Especially alone!"

"Yeah, easy prey."

"Liam!"

"Sorry, it slipped out. He's the most vulnerable though, you have to admit it. The one the girls go craziest over. And he's never even been in a fight that I know of . . ." Liam was thinking out loud, but all it did was serve to make Louis even more anxious.

"Has anyone said anything? Management?" Louis tried to get Liam off the subject of poor Harry so he could compose himself.

"No, they're very hush-hush. I don't even know if anyone's called Simon yet. I bet they haven't, hoping Harry'll show up . . . who knows?" Liam sounded pensive. "Want me to get security to go out and look for him?"

"No! Harry would never forgive me if word of this gets out."

"But if it's for his safety . . . how about me and Niall, at least, come and look until we have to be at the airport?"

"Liam, thanks from the bottom of me heart, but no. We don't need to attract any attention."

Liam didn't say it aloud, but he was reflecting on how the world would certainly find out that Louis and Harry had disappeared together in the first place. Almost without exception, news like this always leaked. It would be a major broadcast.

"Okay, gotta go. I keep lookin' from me balcony, hopin' I'll see him down there. I don't know what else to do, unless I go pound the pavement again."

"Louis, what if Harry's not back in time for the flight? Will you still be here?"

Louis didn't hesitate on this one. "Absolutely not. I'm not boardin' that plane without Harry."

Liam had already known what the answer would be. He'd seen how much the both of the lads had suffered these last couple of years. "Call me—don't hesitate to call me, Tommo. If you need any kind of help, anything. Please," implored Liam.

"Of course I will, Li. And it'll be either both of us or neither of us at the airport. Just so you know."

"Can I tell Niall? About Harry's disappearance, that is?"

"Yeah, of course. But please, no one else."

"That should already be understood," said Liam firmly. He was reinforcing their friendship and support for Louis, no matter what.

As he hung up, Louis wondered what he was going to do with his time. He felt helpless, impotent. He couldn't just sit here, he couldn't watch the telly, and he couldn't walk the streets for fear Harry would come back and find him not here.

A rep from management called on Harry's phone, startling Louis terribly. Seeing who it was on the display, Louis didn't answer. He then checked the voice mail.

The guy sounded rattled. Louis knew him, but not well, and he felt sorry for the guy, who clearly was not accustomed to stars running away like this. His message simply stated that he hoped Harry and Louis would be at the airport, because it had been decided the entire crew would be heading back to California with Liam and Niall. There was a quiet desperation in his voice as he appealed to them to please show up as soon as possible, because he wasn't sure what the consequences might be if they didn't. Louis scoffed and stuffed the phone back in Harry's shirt pocket, not the least bit perturbed. That was petty compared to the urgency of finding Harry, and knowing he was alright.

Two o'clock came too quickly. Liam called at five minutes after two.

"They're ridin' me pretty hard," he said. "They don't wanna have to answer to Simon. But I'm not opening me mouth. Looks like he isn't coming back, yeah?"

"Looks like it," Louis was past caring about the flight, now that he knew that he and Harry would be left behind in Sweden. His only concern now was Harry. "One of the reps called me a little while ago, on Harry's phone. I didn't answer. He left a message about consequences or some such."

"Harry doesn't have his phone?" Liam sounded incredulous.

"You got it. He didn't take it with him. Liam, I'm so sorry . . . that you have to take the brunt of this."

"Don't worry, Lou. I told 'em I don't know anything except you're safe, and I'll keep sayin' it. As far as they know, we've only spoken once."

"Will they go through your phone records?" Louis felt the anxiety peaking. "I mean, to find out we've talked more than once?"

"Not now . . . maybe later, I don't know. If Simon orders it, I suppose."

"Invasion of privacy," said Louis.

"You know how Simon can find ways around things," Liam was so right, and that was one thing Louis was the most afraid of—Simon's wrath.

They said their goodbyes, and agreed that if Harry made it to the airport before they boarded, Liam would call, and Louis would get on the next flight.

"Be careful, Boo Bear. We love ya. You know that," Liam said as they prepared to end the call. Tears threatened to spill, but Louis, the soldier that he was, bravely told Liam with an even voice that he loved them too.

"Give Niallinator me love too."

"Sure thing. Remember, you're Superman. You'll save the day, one way or another."

When he got off the phone, Louis left the hotel. After all, it wasn't dark here until after 10PM. He wasn't just going to sit here when he could use that time to search for Harry. Pointless as it was, he had to feel like he was doing something.

Harry ran out of steam pretty quickly, not being accustomed to running. He'd made a sharp turn between two buildings soon after he exited the hotel, and continued on, turning randomly here and there, hoping Louis wouldn't be able to track him down. Good thing this wasn't the old West. He'd be terrible at covering up his tracks. But with concrete streets, it was easy to get lost in the crowd, and the chances of Louis finding him, he knew, were slim.

He had no idea whatsoever what he was going to do. All he knew was he was knackered, hungry and didn't want to get on that plane. The only way to avoid that was to keep moving. He was afraid to stop even long enough to eat, knowing how fleet and clever Louis was. He could just see Louis getting lucky and finding him sitting in a café, taking out ten minutes to eat. So he grabbed something on the run, and ate as he wandered, wondering where he should go, what he should do.

The panic ebbed and flowed in waves. It would hit its pinnacle, and then lower a bit, but never went away entirely. Harry wasn't sure exactly when he'd decided not to go to the airport. He wasn't even sure he'd made a conscious decision at all. He'd looked at his watch at 1:40, but made no move to hail a taxi. So that was that.

He was pretty sure Louis wouldn't leave without him. But then, there was such a thing as pressure, and management would surely pour it on. No one, especially management, would want to face Simon after this.

Harry knew Louis would call Liam or Niall to find out if he was at the airport. Louis wouldn't be caught dead at the airport unless he planned to board the plane. He was too smart for that. Harry couldn't help wondering why Louis hadn't tried to call him. Then he patted his pocket, only to find his cell phone wasn't there! Oh shit.

When it was past three, Harry knew it was safe to go back to the hotel where Louis was. That was, if Louis was still there. Harry had no idea if everyone else would board the plane or not. Would they go on without him? Or stay, hoping to locate him? Would Louis be desperate enough to find Harry that he would tell them where the hotel was? Well, it didn't matter anyway. If someone were there, waiting for him, he'd go willingly, and face Simon and any repercussions.

His anxiety level was at an all-time high, and he couldn't shake it. He needed Louis. God, how he needed him! He had no choice but to go back to the hotel and tell Louis how sorry he was for bolting—that he hadn't been in his right mind.

The hoodie obscuring most of his face, he must look like someone who was up to no good, but he didn't, at all costs, want to be recognized. He'd had the presence of mind to remember Louis' warning. He crept along, like a thief in the night, even though it was light, hugging walls of buildings, trying to look like he was preoccupied and in a hurry—the kind of person who would tolerate no nonsense. Louis was good at that. Harry, not so much. But he'd nevertheless learned a lot from Louis.

His heart thudding wildly in his chest, he approached the hotel. Nothing looked different—no more cars than usual were parked in the lot and in front. No limos. Good. He glanced up at the balcony, half expecting to see Louis up there, scouring the street with those bright blue eyes. A stab of disappointment poked sharply at him when he saw no such thing.

He slipped his hand in his pocket and realized he didn't have a key to the room. Sighing, he went up the elevator and knocked on the hotel room door. No answer. No sound came from within either. The door was locked.

So he went down the elevator again, and to the front desk. He only had to think for a second to remember what Louis had registered under. Kevin Pigeon. Who could forget that? He told the guy his friend had gone shopping, and had the key, so he was unable to get in. The guy handed him a spare which Harry promised to return as soon as he got the door open. If Louis wasn't there, he'd return the key and get a room elsewhere. Louis must not have checked out, however, since the guy passed over the key without blinking an eye.

Harry knocked once more, just in case Louis really was inside, and then unlocked the door and stepped inside.

"Louis?" Silence. Everything looked pretty much as it had when he had fled this morning. Relief flooded Harry like a giant wave that almost knocked him over with its force. Louis hadn't gone to the airport!

There was evidence of him everywhere, and Harry almost burst out into a sob. Louis' clothes thrown carelessly here and there. It was comforting beyond words. The elation lifted Harry high.

And . . . there were Louis' red fuzzy slippers on the floor.

Harry wanted so badly to hug Louis, just hold him close, and the agony of him not being here was unbearable. So he picked up one of the slippers, holding it up to his face and rubbing its softness against his cheek. Louis' favorite color was red. The tears again threatened to run down his face.

The bathroom looked the same, nothing was missing there either, so Harry knew for certain that Louis had not left. Louis was simply out looking for him. Or . . . maybe getting drunk, thinking Harry wasn't ever coming back.

An hour crept by, and then another. Harry couldn't tolerate another second of this. All he had been doing was pacing and running his hand through his hair, over and over. Going out onto the balcony, imagining sometimes that he saw Louis, but when the person drew nearer, it never was. Louis could be very near by, in one of the bars. Or walking the streets. Harry couldn't bear that thought, so he left again, hoping to find him, even though he knew in his heart it was best to stay put, as Louis would be back sooner or later. In his distraction and haste, he forgot to look for his cell phone. He also forgot to return the key to the front desk.

Louis arrived back at the hotel only twenty minutes after Harry had left. His gaze swept the inside of the room, and the only thing he noted was that one of his slippers seemed to be further away from the other one than it had been before, or so he thought. Who knew—with as fast as he'd left the room this morning, he could have flung it without even noticing.

Just to be sure Harry hadn't been here, he checked Harry's shirt pocket again, and the cell phone was still there. Well, he had his answer. It looked like Harry wasn't coming back, or he would have shown up by now. Louis knew Harry- his habits, his routines, even his thoughts. He'd lived with the guy for almost six years. First the X-Factor house and then the house Simon had moved them all into. Well, there would be no more of that when they got home! If Harry came back, he and Harry would get their own place. He tried to calm his rising panic with those thoughts. But it only worked for a short while.

Even knowing it was a little on the dramatic side, he had to admit there was no guarantee he would ever see Harry again. The lad was not independent the way Louis was, not street savvy either. He'd come to X-Factor when he was only sixteen, never having lived away from home. He hadn't been on his own in all these years, the other lads practically being his family, and now here he was, in a foreign country, at the mercy of any thug who might come along and try to take advantage. If someone recognized him, they would know how rich he was, and . . . Louis couldn't even finish the thought in his mind.

Just then, the room phone rang. Louis almost jumped out of his skin. He picked it up, a heavy feeling in his chest almost choking him.

"Yeah?"

"Um, Mr. Pigeon?" asked the man at the desk.

Louis almost cracked a smile, but wasn't quite able to muster one.

"Yeah, speaking," he answered.

"I don't know which one of you it was, but one of you asked for a spare key—said the other one was out shopping and he couldn't get in. He promised to return the key, and he didn't. Was that you?"

Louis gasped. "Um . . . no, it was me friend." Thank God, Harry had been there!

"How long ago was this?" he asked.

"About half an hour ago. Do you have the key?"

Damn! Fucking hell!

Harry had just been here half an hour ago! And now, now he was on the streets again!

"No, no I don't have the extra. Me friend must've forgotten to return it. As soon as I see him, I will personally return it, straight away," he promised.

The man heaved a long suffering sigh, grumbled "Alright," and hung up.

At least now Harry knew Louis hadn't left on the plane. That was something.

I'm gettin' tired of this hotel room tag, Styles! I swear, I'm gonna beat your fuckin' ass when you get back here!