The Price of Peace

The tension in the room was suffocating, pressing down on everyone like a heavy fog. When the knock at the door came, it reverberated through the air like a gunshot. Louis flinched violently, his entire body jerking as if struck. His hands, trembling, latched onto Harry's shirt with a desperation that startled even Harry, whose arms immediately wrapped protectively around him. Harry's touch was steady, his hand moving in slow, deliberate circles across Louis's back, but the panic coursing through Louis was too fierce, too raw to be calmed so easily.

Niall's usual warmth was absent, his face pale and drawn as he stood rigid by the window, hands fidgeting with the hem of his sweatshirt. His eyes darted toward the door, then back to Louis, his stomach twisting at the sight of his friend—his anchor—so unraveled. Louis, who had always been the one to keep them grounded in chaos, who could defuse any tension with a cheeky grin and a well-placed quip, was now a shadow of himself. It was wrong. It was terrifying.

Zayn, perched on the edge of the armchair, exuded a quiet intensity, though his jaw was clenched so tightly it ached. He leaned forward, his forearms resting on his thighs, his dark eyes locked on Louis with a mix of helplessness and disbelief. Out of all of them, Louis had always been the unshakable one—the one who thrived in the limelight, who navigated the madness of fans and fame with an ease that had always impressed Zayn. Seeing Louis this broken, this terrified, made Zayn's chest ache with an unfamiliar kind of anger—directed at whoever or whatever had reduced him to this state.

"They're still here," Louis whispered, his voice cracking, each syllable a struggle. His eyes were wide, glassy with unshed tears, darting nervously toward the door as if expecting it to burst open. "They're not going to stop."

"Lou," Harry murmured, his voice soft and steady as he tilted his head to catch Louis's gaze. "It's okay. It's not them."

Louis's panicked eyes searched Harry's, looking for answers, for reassurance. His voice was barely a breath when he asked, "How do you know?"

"Because the security out there is Niall's and Zayn's," Harry said, his tone patient but firm. "If they've let someone through, it's because it's safe. I promise."

The words hung in the air, fragile and uncertain. Louis's breathing remained uneven, his grip on Harry's shirt unrelenting, but he gave the barest nod, a flicker of trust amid the storm.

Niall looked down, his hands curling into fists at his sides as he swallowed against the lump in his throat. He wanted to do something, to say something, but words felt inadequate. Louis, the one who had always been their rock, was now the one crumbling, and Niall hated how powerless it made him feel.

Zayn, his fingers tapping anxiously against his knee, glanced toward Niall, their shared helplessness unspoken but mutual. "This isn't him," Zayn muttered under his breath, his voice low and strained. "This isn't Louis."

Niall nodded wordlessly, his lips pressed into a thin line. No, this wasn't Louis. Louis was the one who made them laugh when things got too serious. And now, the sight of him trembling in Harry's arms, overwhelmed by fear, left a hollow ache in Niall's chest.

Niall moved toward the door, his shoulders tense as he cracked it open just enough to see who was on the other side. His posture eased slightly as recognition dawned. "It's them," he said, stepping back to allow the men to enter.

Paul Higgins was the first through the door, his broad frame filling the doorway like a shield. His face, usually calm and authoritative, was shadowed by an uncharacteristic mix of worry and hesitation. The years had etched lines of responsibility and care into his features, but this was different. This was personal. Behind him followed Ben, Louis's personal security guard, his sharp, methodical gaze sweeping the room. Last came Paddy, Harry's steady and ever-reliable bodyguard, his quiet presence adding a subtle reassurance to the charged atmosphere.

"Louis," Paul began, his voice soft but carrying the weight of his affection and concern. He stepped forward instinctively, his arms beginning to rise, as though preparing to pull Louis into the kind of embrace only someone who truly cared could offer. "Mate, are you—"

"No," Harry interrupted sharply, his voice firm, cutting through the thick tension like a blade. His hand pressed protectively against Louis's shoulder, holding him close. "Don't."

Paul halted mid-step, his arms faltering in the air before dropping back to his sides. His brows furrowed in confusion as he looked at Harry, then to Louis, whose small frame was curled against Harry's side. Before Paul could try again, Niall and Zayn moved swiftly, each gripping one of his arms, their movements resolute and deliberate.

"Don't touch him," Zayn said, his voice low but unyielding, like steel cloaked in velvet.

Paul blinked, his gaze darting between them and then back to Louis. For a moment, he didn't understand—couldn't understand—why they were stopping him. But then his eyes truly took in the young man in front of him. Louis sat hunched, his body trembling, hands clutching at Harry's shirt as though it were the only thing keeping him tethered to the room. His face was pale and hollow, the spark that had always defined him extinguished. This wasn't the Louis Paul remembered—the one who had filled every space with cheeky smiles and relentless confidence, who had weathered fame and chaos with a kind of reckless grace.

The sight hit Paul like a punch to the gut, and his breath caught as understanding dawned. He'd known Louis had been through hell, but seeing it—seeing what it had done to him—was something else entirely. The boy he thought of as his own, the boy he had watched grow into a man, was now a shell of himself. His heart clenched as he thought of Liam, another son he'd lost, and the weight of it all threatened to overwhelm him.

"I didn't realize…" Paul's voice cracked, and he trailed off, his words faltering under the weight of his emotions. His arms hung limply at his sides, as though the very act of moving forward had become impossible.

Louis's voice broke the silence, barely more than a whisper, shaky and fragile. "Please don't… don't come closer."

Paul's chest tightened, and he nodded immediately, taking a careful step back. His eyes never left Louis, the sorrow in them so deep it was almost unbearable. "I'm sorry, Louis," he said, his voice thick, each word labored. "I didn't mean to—" He stopped, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat, unable to finish the thought.

For a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of Louis's uneven breaths. Paul's hands clenched and unclenched at his sides as he tried to steady himself, but the image of Louis—so vulnerable, so utterly unlike the boy he had loved like a son—was burned into his mind. The memory of Liam's funeral crept into his thoughts, unbidden and cruel, and he felt the unbearable weight of failure settle on his shoulders.

Paul finally tore his gaze away, his voice a broken whisper. "I'm so sorry, son."

Ben cleared his throat, stepping forward with a subtle hesitance. His voice, usually steady and self-assured, now carried a tremor of emotion. "We've brought in additional security," he explained, his words professional but the concern beneath them unmistakable. "There are more personnel stationed around the hospital. The police are dispersing the crowd outside, and a lot of fans have already left. But the paparazzi…" He hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line. "They're not going anywhere."

Louis's grip on Harry tightened like a vice, his face buried against Harry's chest. His voice, muffled but trembling with panic, escaped in a whisper that broke everyone's hearts. "I can't stay here. I can't."

Paddy, standing tall but emanating quiet calm, stepped forward slightly. "Louis," he began, his tone measured and even. "Right now, this is the safest place for you. Moving you would put you at risk—not just physically, but your privacy too. The streets of London… they aren't an option right now."

Louis's head snapped up at that, his blue eyes blazing with frustration that bordered on despair. "So what?" he demanded, his voice sharp and rising. "I just stay here? Locked in this room like some caged animal while they circle outside, waiting for their chance?"

"It's not forever," Ben interjected, his tone softer now. He took a small step closer, his hands open at his sides, as if trying to reassure Louis through his posture alone. "The crowd will die down. They always do. Things will go back to normal" He stopped himself, angry at the word that slipped out. "Things will settle. But for now, this is the best option we have."

Louis let out a laugh, brittle and bitter, as if the very idea of "normal" was a cruel joke. "Normal?" he repeated, the word dripping with sarcasm. "That's a good one. Nothing about this is normal."

Ben's jaw tightened, his fingers flexing at his sides. He wanted to say something, to promise that it would all be okay, but the words felt empty. And worse, they felt hypocritical. Guilt churned in his chest as he thought about that night—the night Louis had gone out didn't he call me?he thought for the hundredth time.I would've gone with him. I would've walked with him, bought the stupid weed, and gotten him home safe. Why didn't he just call?But the blame was useless now, a hollow ache that did nothing to change what had happened. So instead, he swallowed his guilt and said, "We're here now, Louis. And we're not going anywhere."

Zayn, standing a little to the side, broke the heavy silence that followed. His voice was quiet but resolute, each word carefully measured. "We're not saying it's fair, Lou. It's not. None of this is. But we're doing everything we can to keep you safe."

"Safe," Louis muttered, his voice sharp with sarcasm. "You mean trapped."

"Lou," Harry murmured softly, his hand lifting to cup Louis's cheek. His touch was gentle, grounding, the way only Harry's could be. "They're just trying to help."

Louis's gaze flicked to Harry's, and for a moment, the fire in his eyes dulled to something softer, something more fragile. He exhaled shakily, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know," he said, the fight momentarily leaving him. "I just… I don't know how much more of this I can take."

Paddy, watching the exchange in silence, shifted his weight subtly. He had seen this before—this kind of desperation, this kind of love. Over the years, he had pieced it together: no matter where Harry went, no matter what he did, there had always been Louis. Even when they weren't together, there was no mistaking it. And now, seeing Harry so protective, so deeply entwined in Louis's pain, Paddy's heart sank. He couldn't imagine what this was doing to Harry—to see the person he loved more than anything like this.

The room was tense, the weight of Louis's words still lingering heavily in the air. Louis's grip on Harry was firm, his fingers clutching Harry's shirt as if letting go might cause him to vanish altogether. He shifted slightly, his eyes darting toward the door, and then back to Harry with a look of quiet panic.

Paddy cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Harry, can we have a word? Outside?"

Harry hesitated, his gaze immediately dropping to Louis. "I'll just be a minute," he said softly, but Louis shook his head, his grip tightening.

"No," Louis whispered, his voice laced with unease. "There are people out there. It's not safe."

Harry crouched slightly, so they were at eye level, his tone gentle but firm. "I'm not going alone, Lou. Ben, Paddy, and Paul will be with me. Nothing will happen."

Louis didn't answer right away, his lips pressing into a thin line. He exhaled sharply, his voice barely audible as he said, "It's not even about you being safe, Harry. It's…" He trailed off, his cheeks flushing as he cast his gaze downward. "It's me. I'm not safe without you here."

The admission hung in the air, raw and vulnerable. Louis let out a shaky, self-deprecating laugh, a crooked grin pulling at his lips. "God, I know how pathetic that sounds."

Harry's eyes softened, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "It's not pathetic, Lou," he murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from Louis's face. His fingers lingered, gentle and reassuring.

From across the room, Niall let out a quiet chuckle, his expression both amused and understanding. "You're a stubborn bastard, Lou," he said lightly, though there was no malice in his tone. "But I get it."

Louis gave Harry one last searching look, his fingers loosening but not fully letting go. "Don't take too long," he murmured, his voice tinged with reluctant resignation.

"I won't," Harry promised, pressing a lingering kiss to Louis's forehead before finally prying himself free. As he moved toward the door, he felt Louis's gaze follow him, a silent plea in his eyes that made leaving even for a moment feel like a betrayal.

Out in the hallway, Paddy pulled out a notepad, flipping it open to a page filled with scribbled notes. "We've been discussing security logistics for the next week," he began, his voice calm but deliberate. "Right now, we're operating with a ten-person team, supported by the guards Niall and Zayn brought in. That's enough for this shift, but once it's over, we're out of options."

Harry nodded, his expression tense. "So what are you proposing?"

Paddy glanced at Ben before continuing. "Option one is thirty guards, split into three shifts. That gives us round-the-clock coverage, but it's tight. Option two is forty-eight guards, which would provide full coverage, emergency flexibility, and better overall safety."

Harry's brows furrowed. "And the cost?"

Ben stepped in, his voice steady but cautious. "For thirty guards, it's about £250,000 for the week. For forty-eight, closer to £400,000. Those numbers are high because we need them immediately, so we're paying a premium for top agencies."

Harry exhaled slowly, the weight of the situation settling on his shoulders. "Fine. Go with the forty-eight. Do whatever you need to."

Ben froze for a moment, his professional demeanor hiding a flicker of confusion. "Sorry, just to clarify—are we splitting the cost between you and Louis?"

Harry blinked, caught off guard. "Split?"

Ben hesitated, his chest tightening. The word hit him like a sharp jab, and his mind ? Does he mean Louis should cover it all?He bit the inside of his cheek, keeping his expression neutral, though a wave of disappointment rippled through him. Harry's tone wasn't what he had expected, not fromhim.

Ben had always admired Harry in the background—his gestures of kindness, the way he carried himself. And now, here he was, implying that Louis might have to shoulder the entire financial burden for his own safety.I must have misjudged him,Ben thought bitterly, even as he forced himself to stay professional. "If Louis is expected to pay for everything, I'd need to discuss this with him first. It's only fair he has a say, especially if we're recommending the more expensive option."

Harry's brows drew together, confusion clouding his features. "Why would Louis need to pay for all of it?" he asked, his tone sharp. "What are you talking about?"

Ben hesitated, caught between frustration and professionalism. "Well, you said 'split' like that wasn't an option. I assumed…" He trailed off, his throat did I assume? That Harry doesn't care? That he'd leave Louis to figure it out alone?The thought stung, and yet, he had to push forward. "If Louis is paying, he deserves to decide which option works best for him. Sending him a £400,000 invoice without warning—it's not right."

Harry's eyes widened in sudden understanding, the pieces falling into place. "Wait." His voice softened, though his words were firm. "You think I'm expecting Louis to pay? All of it?"

Ben's silence was answer enough.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, frustration and regret flickering across his face. "No, that's not what I meant. Not at all. This was always on me."

Ben blinked, startled by the vehemence in Harry's voice. "But—"

"I was photographed in the café," Harry interrupted, his voice tight with guilt. "That's why they know where he is. This whole mess is my fault, and I'm not about to make Louis deal with it—especially not financially." His jaw clenched as his frustration bubbled to the surface. "Yes, it's a lot of money, but it's not like I'll be living off instant noodles because of it. I'll pay the bill. All of it."

He paused, his gaze hardening as he met Ben's eyes. "And Louis doesn't need to know. He barely sleeps, and when he does, it's probably with one eye open. The last thing he needs is to worry about who's paying for his safety or how much it costs. He just needs to know he's safe."

"Harry," Ben began cautiously, "you don't have to take this on alone."

Harry's gaze was steady. "Yes, I do. And I will."

Ben nodded slowly, his earlier misjudgment of Harry weighing heavily on his mind. "All right," he said quietly. "We'll handle the logistics and bill you directly."

Paddy glanced between them, his expression thoughtful. "Understood. We'll move forward with the forty-eight guards."

As the group prepared to disperse, Ben lingered, his voice softer now. "For what it's worth… I misread you. I'm sorry for that."

Harry shook his head, offering a faint smile, this one tinged with sincerity rather than self-deprecation. "No need to apologize. You're a good guy, Ben. I see how much you care about Louis, and I'm glad he has someone like you looking out for him. I don't take that for granted."

Ben blinked, caught off guard by the compliment. A small smile crept onto his face despite himself. "Thank you, Harry. That means a lot."

Harry patted him on the shoulder. "It's the truth. And I mean it—if there's ever anything you need to keep him safe, you come to me, no hesitation."

Ben nodded again, the respect he now felt for Harry solidifying into something 's not just doing this because he feels guilty. He genuinely cares.

As Harry turned and walked back toward Louis's room, Ben watched him go, feeling strangely 's the real deal,Ben is lucky to have him.

When Harry returned to the room, the door clicking shut behind him, Louis's head shot up. His blue eyes, still shadowed by exhaustion, flickered with relief the moment he saw him.

"Well, look who finally decided to grace us with his presence," Louis quipped, his tone sharp but not biting. It was sass for the sake of control, a thin veneer masking the storm beneath. He leaned back on the bed, crossing his arms dramatically, though his posture betrayed his nervous energy.

Zayn raised an eyebrow from his seat by the window, where he was casually scrolling through his phone. "Wow, Lou, didn't realize Harry's your personal emotional support animal," he teased with a grin.

"Apparently, we're chopped liver," Niall added from the armchair, a mock pout on his face. "Guess you don't trust us to keep you company, mate."

Louis gave them a pointed look, his lips quirking into a half-smile. "Oh, please. You two are about as comforting as a wet sock." His words had bite, but his delivery lacked weight, and both Zayn and Niall saw through it immediately.

"Sure, sure," Zayn said, exchanging a knowing glance with Niall. "Call us when Harry needs a break. We'll be your backup wet socks."

Louis rolled his eyes but said nothing, his gaze flickering back to Harry. Despite his banter, the tension in his body was palpable. He wasn't fooling anyone—not Zayn, not Niall, and especially not Harry.

Harry smiled softly, crossing the room in a few strides and sitting down beside the bed. "All right, you two, stop tormenting him," he said gently. He reached for Louis's hand, his touch grounding and deliberate. Louis didn't hesitate; his fingers curled around Harry's like a lifeline, his sass melting into something raw and unguarded.

"I told you not to take long," Louis muttered, his voice quieter now. "And for once, you actually listened. Wonders never cease."

Harry chuckled, shifting closer until their shoulders touched. "I always listen, Lou. You're just too stubborn to notice."

Louis's lips twitched into the faintest smile, though his grip on Harry's hand tightened. He let out a shaky breath, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. "It's madness out there," he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. "Fans, paps… they're everywhere. I feel like I can't even breathe."

Zayn and Niall exchanged another glance but said nothing, respecting the moment. They knew Louis was only this honest because Harry was here. Without him, Louis would've kept up the facade, playing it cool until he cracked.

"You don't have to hold it together right now," Harry said softly, his thumb brushing over Louis's knuckles. "Not with me. Not with them."

Louis hesitated, then nodded, his head dropping slightly as the weight of his fear surfaced. "It's just… a lot. Too much."

The morning sun filtered through the blinds, casting soft, golden rays across the hospital room. Despite the warmth of the light, the atmosphere felt fragile, like glass stretched too thin. Outside, the chaos of fans and paparazzi had dulled to a faint murmur, broken only by the occasional click of a camera or the low hum of voices.

Louis lay curled on the hospital bed, his body tense, the blanket clutched tightly in his hands. His eyes were closed, his lashes brushing pale cheeks, but it was clear he wasn't asleep. The rigidity in his posture, the way his fingers twitched against the fabric—everything about him screamed exhaustion and unease. It looked like he was trying to will himself into calm, into rest, but failing.

Harry sat beside the bed, his chair pulled close. He didn't touch Louis, though his every movement radiated concern. His hands rested on his knees, fingers curled into loose fists as if resisting the urge to reach out. His gaze shifted between Louis's face and the door, watchful and protective, bracing for any sign of trouble.

Zayn and Niall lingered in the corner of the room, their presence unobtrusive but steady. They exchanged a quiet look, reading the room as only old friends could. Zayn raised an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly toward the door. Niall gave a barely perceptible nod in agreement.

"We'll give you two some time," Zayn said softly, his voice pitched low, careful not to disturb the tenuous calm.

Niall stepped closer to the bed, a gentle smile on his face. "We're just outside," he murmured, his tone kind and reassuring. He reached out to pat Louis's foot lightly through the blanket, his touch as careful as his words.

Louis's lashes fluttered, his eyes opening briefly to meet Niall's. There was a flicker of gratitude in his gaze, though it was fleeting. His throat worked as if he wanted to say something, but no words came. Instead, he gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod before letting his eyes drift shut again.

Harry glanced up at Zayn and Niall, his expression a mixture of gratitude and weariness. He mouthed,Thanks,and Zayn gave him a brief nod in return. Without another word, the two slipped out of the room, the door clicking shut behind them.

The stillness that followed was comforting at first, a fragile sense of peace settling over the room. But it didn't last. Louis shifted uncomfortably on the bed, his fingers gripping the blanket as his chest rose and fell with uneven breaths.

Harry noticed the tension immediately, leaning forward slightly. "Lou," he murmured, his voice soft, "what's going on?"

Louis hesitated, his eyes darting to the door as if expecting it to burst open at any moment. His lips parted, but no sound came out. Then, all at once, the dam broke.

"I don't feel safe," Louis whispered, his voice trembling as the words tumbled out. His shoulders hunched, his grip on the blanket tightening further. "I know they're out there. Watching, waiting. And I… I don't know what to do. I hate this, Harry. I hate all of it."

Harry's heart ached at the sight of him, so vulnerable and shaken. He scooted his chair closer, his voice steady and reassuring. "Hey, listen to me," he said firmly, his green eyes locking onto Louis's. "Youaresafe. Paul, Paddy, and Ben—they've got everything covered. They walked me through the entire plan earlier. The guards are positioned everywhere they need to be. No one's getting through them."

Louis's gaze flicked to Harry's face, searching for reassurance. "You're sure?" he asked, his voice small, almost childlike.

Harry nodded, leaning in closer. "Positive. I wouldn't let anything happen to you. Not ever. You can trust them, Lou. You can trust me."

For a moment, Louis didn't respond, his breathing still shaky. But then he let out a slow exhale, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. He nodded faintly, though his grip on the blanket didn't loosen entirely. "Okay," he whispered, more to himself than to Harry. "Okay."

Before the fragile quiet could settle again, a soft knock at the door startled them both. Louis's head snapped up, his body instinctively curling in on itself.

"It's okay," Harry said immediately, his voice soothing. He moved to the edge of the bed, his posture protective. "It's just Tina."

The door creaked open, and Tina stepped inside with her usual warm smile, carrying a breakfast tray. Her presence was calm, unthreatening, but her sharp eyes quickly took in the scene—the strain etched into Louis's face, the faint sheen of sweat on his brow, and Harry's tense, watchful stance.

"Good morning, Louis. Harry," Tina greeted gently, her tone as bright as it was unassuming. She moved closer to the bed, setting the tray down on the bedside table with deliberate care. "How are we feeling this morning?"

Louis's gaze dropped to the tray, his stomach churning at the sight of the food. His throat tightened, and a wave of nausea rolled through him. He shook his head slightly, his expression twisting with discomfort.

Tina crouched slightly, her kind eyes meeting Louis's. "Not hungry?" she asked knowingly, her voice gentle but firm. "That's alright. But I'd like you to try—just a little. You need your strength."

"I can't," Louis whispered, his voice breaking. He shook his head again, his grip on the blanket tightening as his face crumpled. "I'm sorry, I just… I can't."

Tina's warm smile faltered, replaced by soft concern. She straightened, her hands clasping in front of her. "That's okay," she said softly. "But I'll need to let Dr. Lopes know. She'll want to talk with you about this."

Louis gave a small, reluctant nod, his jaw tightening as he kept his gaze fixed anywhere but on her. Harry, sitting close beside him, felt the tension radiating from Louis's body. He tightened his grip on Louis's hand, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles over his knuckles—a silent reminder that he was there. Louis leaned into the touch slightly, like a lifeline, though his hands continued to tremble faintly.

Tina noticed. Her gaze flicked down, catching the subtle shake in Louis's fingers and the way his shoulders remained hunched, his entire body wound tight like a coiled spring. She softened her tone even more, crouching slightly so she could meet his downturned eyes. "You're trembling," she said quietly, her voice filled with gentle concern. "Would you like something to help calm your nerves? Just for now?"

"No," Louis said immediately, his voice sharp with conviction, though the slight waver in it betrayed his inner turmoil. He shook his head, his grip on the blanket tightening further. "I need to stay alert. There are still people out there."

Tina tilted her head slightly, her brows knitting together in sympathy. She hesitated, clearly weighing her response carefully. "Louis," she said, her voice steady and kind, "you're safe here. You know that, don't you?"

Louis didn't answer. His eyes flickered toward the window, his expression clouded with doubt. The faint sounds of murmurs and distant clicks from outside only seemed to deepen the tension in his frame.

Harry spoke up, his tone low but reassuring. "He knows," Harry said, though his gaze was on Louis as he spoke, his green eyes searching Louis's face for any sign of agreement. His hand never stopped its calming rhythm over Louis's knuckles. "It's just… hard to feel it right now."

Tina sighed softly, her understanding smile returning, though it didn't reach her eyes. She could see the weight Louis was carrying, the walls he was desperately trying to hold up. "Alright," she said gently, "but if you change your mind, just let me know. Dr. Lopes will be by soon. You can talk to her about everything, okay? We'll also check your wounds and change your bandages when she's here."

Louis gave another nod, but it was slight, almost imperceptible. His jaw remained tight, the tension in his body refusing to ease. The light in his eyes was dim, clouded by fear and exhaustion. Harry's hand stilled for a moment before moving to gently squeeze Louis's fingers, offering him the kind of silent reassurance that only Harry could.

Tina stood, hesitating for a brief moment before patting Louis's blanketed shoulder lightly. "I'll give you some time to rest before she comes by," she said softly, her voice warm with understanding. Her eyes flicked briefly to Harry, a silent exchange of concern and support passing between them. Then, with a quiet click, the door closed behind her.

Louis let out a shaky exhale, his shoulders slumping as he sank back into the pillows. His fingers fidgeted restlessly with the edge of the blanket, twisting the fabric as if trying to ground himself. "Great," he muttered, his tone steeped in sarcasm. "Another thing to look forward to."

Harry shifted closer, the bed dipping slightly under his weight. With a practiced tenderness, he ran his hand through Louis's hair, his fingers threading gently through the soft strands. "It's Ana," he reminded him, his voice quiet but steady. "You like her. She's always been on your side, Lou."

Louis glanced up, his blue eyes clouded with a mixture of anxiety and exhaustion. The faint morning light filtering through the blinds seemed to highlight just how tired he looked—dark shadows beneath his eyes, his usual spark dulled. "I know," he said softly, almost to himself. "But… what if she thinks I'm weak? I can't even eat. I can't…" His voice broke off, and his gaze fell to his lap, his hands curling into trembling fists atop the blanket.

Harry's hand slipped from Louis's hair to his cheek, tilting his face gently so their eyes met. His touch was firm but filled with care, his thumb brushing lightly over Louis's cheekbone. "She's not going to think that," Harry said, his voice unwavering. "She's here to help you, not judge you. And she'll be proud of you, Lou. Proud of how honest you're being about everything you're going through."

Louis's throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his breathing uneven. His voice, when it came, was barely above a whisper. "I want to tell her," he admitted, his words fragile and vulnerable, as though speaking them might shatter something inside him. "About… everything. But it's so much, Haz. And now, with all this chaos…" He trailed off, his fingers tightening their grip on the blanket as if it might hold him together.

Harry leaned in closer, his forehead nearly touching Louis's, their breaths mingling in the quiet space between them. "You'll get through it," Harry said, his voice filled with conviction. There was no hesitation, no doubt—only a steady, unyielding belief. "One step at a time. And I'll be with you the whole way."

For a moment, Louis let himself lean into Harry's touch, his eyes drifting shut as he took in the warmth and steadiness of the person who had always been his safe place. The faintest flicker of a smile ghosted across his lips, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "You always say the right thing, don't you?" he murmured, his voice laced with a bittersweet humor. "I wish I could believe it."

Harry's hand moved back to the nape of Louis's neck, pulling him closer into an embrace. "You don't have to believe it right now," he said softly, his lips brushing against Louis's temple. "That's okay. I'll believe it enough for both of us."

Louis exhaled again, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. He wanted to believe Harry, wanted to feel the safety Harry promised was there. But the weight of his fear was still too heavy, pressing down on him with a relentless force. Still, somewhere deep within that fear, a faint ember of hope glimmered. Maybe, just maybe, Harry was right.

For now, Louis let himself cling to that small, fragile possibility—and to Harry.

The hospital room was quiet, save for the faint murmurs of life beyond the door and the soft hum of the fluorescent lights. Harry lay beside Louis on the narrow hospital bed, his body curled protectively around him. His arm was draped over Louis's waist, his hand resting lightly against Louis's stomach, offering warmth and silent reassurance.

Louis lay tense under the blankets, his small frame trembling faintly against Harry's chest. His eyes were shut, but Harry could feel the restless panic that lingered in every uneven breath and subtle shudder.

Harry tightened his hold slightly, pulling Louis closer as he pressed his lips to the crown of his head. "You're safe, Lou," he murmured softly, his breath warm against Louis's hair. "I've got you."

Louis let out a shaky exhale, the sound more a whimper than a sigh. He turned slightly, burrowing his face against Harry's chest as though trying to block out the world. His trembling didn't stop, but it eased just enough for Harry to feel the difference.

"I know it's hard," Harry continued, his voice low and steady. "But you don't have to carry this alone. I'm here. I'll always be here."

The room remained still, the quiet only broken by Louis's uneven breathing and the soft rhythm of Harry's reassurances. Harry's fingers moved slowly through Louis's hair, the touch featherlight but constant. His own exhaustion pulled at him, but he refused to let it win—not when Louis needed him like this.

Minutes stretched into what felt like hours, the air heavy with unspoken words and shared pain. When the door creaked open, the sound was enough to make both of them flinch slightly. Harry's head turned toward the sound, his green eyes sharp but softening when he saw Dr. Ana Lopes step inside, her presence calm and composed.

Tina followed close behind, her clipboard tucked neatly under one arm, a warm, reassuring smile on her face. "Good morning, Louis," Ana greeted gently, her gaze flicking briefly to Harry before returning to Louis. "How are you feeling today?"

Louis didn't answer right away, his fingers twitching against the edge of the blanket. He shifted slightly in Harry's arms, drawing in a deep, shaky breath before speaking. "I've been better," he admitted, his voice low and strained. "A lot better."

Ana nodded, her expression thoughtful but understanding. "I can imagine. It's been a difficult couple of days." She pulled the chair closer to his bedside and sat down, her posture open and non-threatening. "I heard things were a bit chaotic last night. Do you want to talk about it?"

Louis glanced at Harry, who gave him a small, encouraging nod. Turning back to Ana, Louis let out a shaky exhale. "It wasn't supposed to be like this," he began, his voice cracking slightly. "The announcement… about us. It wasn't supposed to cause this kind of mess."

Ana's brows lifted slightly. "The announcement?" she repeated. "You mean about your relationship?"

Louis nodded, his gaze fixed on his hands as he twisted the fabric of the blanket nervously. "Yeah. We've been together for years—on and off. But we've never been… public about it. Not like this."

Ana leaned back slightly, her lips curving into a faint smile. "I see," she said softly. "To be honest, I thought it was already public knowledge."

Louis's head shot up, his blue eyes wide with surprise. "What? Why would you think that?"

Ana chuckled lightly, her tone warm and teasing. "Because of how you two interact. The way you look at each other, how you're so attuned to one another—it's impossible to miss. I just assumed the world had already figured it out."

Louis blinked, his jaw dropping slightly. "But… we were careful," he said, his voice laced with disbelief. "We never said anything."

Ana gave him a knowing look, shaking her head gently. "You don't need to say anything for it to be obvious," she replied kindly. "It's not about what people see when you're sitting close or holding hands. It's the way you treat each other. That speaks louder than any words could."

Louis frowned slightly, still processing her words. "But it's not like we…" He trailed off, his cheeks flushing faintly. "Okay, maybe we cuddled a little in here. And kissed. But that's the only reason you noticed, right?"

Ana smiled, her gaze kind but firm. "No, Louis. I would have noticed even without that. It's in the way you lean into him without realizing it. The way he watches over you like you're his whole world. It's obvious that you trust each other deeply."

Louis glanced at Harry, his face a mix of embarrassment and something softer—something like hope. "We denied it, though," he said weakly, almost as if trying to convince himself.

"Denials don't mean much when the truth is written all over you," Ana said with a gentle smile. "And that's not a bad thing, Louis. It's a testament to how real and strong your bond is."

Harry, who had been quiet until now, smiled softly. "See, Lou? Told you we couldn't hide it, not completely."

Ana's expression softened further. "When you first came here, I wasn't sure you'd let anyone near you—not after what you've been through. But the way you reacted to Harry, the way your body seemed to instinctively know he was safe… it was clear to me that you trusted him completely. That kind of trust is rare."

Louis swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. His hands tightened around the blanket, and his voice came out in a whisper. "I do trust him. More than anyone."

Ana nodded, her eyes warm. "And that trust is everything, Louis. It's the foundation of healing. You've been through so much, but seeing the way you and Harry support each other? It gives me hope for your recovery. You're allowing yourself to lean on him, even when it's hard."

Louis glanced at Harry, his blue eyes glistening with emotion. "I don't know what I'd do without him," he admitted quietly, his voice barely audible.

Harry leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Louis's head. "You won't have to find out," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm not going anywhere."

For a moment, the room was filled with a tender silence, the weight of Ana's words settling over them. Louis let out a shaky breath, his tension easing slightly as he leaned further into Harry's touch.

"Thank you," Louis said finally, his voice barely audible. "For saying that."

Ana smiled warmly. "It's just the truth, Louis. And the fact that you're sitting here, admitting how you feel, facing all of this—it shows how strong you are. Don't lose sight of that."

Louis nodded, his gaze falling to his hands, but for the first time, the weight on his chest felt just a little lighter.

Ana's calm voice broke the gentle stillness that had settled over the room after their emotional conversation. "Louis," she began softly, her tone gentle yet purposeful, her warm gaze resting on him. "Before we proceed, would you prefer to start with a general health assessment or address the wound care first? It's entirely your choice."

Louis hesitated, his fingers curling slightly around the edge of the blanket. He didn't answer immediately, his mind seeming to weigh the options as his gaze flicked toward Harry. Harry offered him a small, reassuring nod, his green eyes steady and filled with quiet encouragement. Drawing in a shallow breath, Louis turned back to Ana, his voice low and tinged with apprehension. "Let's just… get the wound care over with," he murmured. "Better to deal with it first."

Ana nodded, her professionalism as unwavering as ever, though her demeanor remained soothing and empathetic. "Alright," she said, her voice carrying a steady reassurance. "Thank you for deciding, Louis. It's important that you feel in control of how we proceed."

Louis's lips twitched, forming a faint, fleeting smile of gratitude. The corners of his mouth lifted just enough to show he appreciated the effort to include him in the process. Slowly, he shifted in the bed, his movements deliberate and cautious, as if testing the boundaries of what his body could manage.

Harry stayed close, his hand never leaving Louis's. His thumb traced soft, repetitive patterns over Louis's knuckles, grounding him in the present. "I'm right here," Harry murmured quietly, his Harry's voice was quiet, meant only for Louis. "You're doing great."

Louis's blue eyes, though shadowed with anxiety, flickered with something softer—perhaps trust, or simply the comfort of Harry's unwavering presence. He nodded faintly, his tense shoulders relaxing just a fraction as he clung to the familiar grounding of Harry's hand.

As Tina gathered the necessary supplies, Ana's gaze shifted to Louis's T-shirt. It was crisp and unmistakably Burberry—an olive-green polo with a subtly luxurious design, the signature Burberry check running along the button placket, while the rest remained unadorned and understated. Her lips curved into a small, teasing smirk. "Fancy wardrobe for a hospital stay," she quipped lightly, her tone warm. "Trying to set a new trend?"

Louis raised a brow, a flicker of his usual cheekiness surfacing. "I've got a reputation to maintain," he replied with feigned seriousness, his voice soft but steadier than before. "Can't have anyone thinking I've completely let myself go."

Harry chuckled beside him, his thumb still tracing gentle circles on the back of Louis's hand. "As if anyone could ever think that, Lou."

Ana smiled at the banter, the lightness in their exchange a welcome break from the tension that had otherwise dominated the room. "Well, it's a good look," she admitted with a nod toward the shirt. "But I'm afraid we'll have to part with it for now."

Louis sighed dramatically, the faintest hint of amusement glimmering in his tired eyes. "Fine," he said, drawing out the word. "But only because I like you, Ana." His lips twitched into a ghost of a smirk before he added, glancing at Harry, "And because it's one of Harry's presents. He got it for me yesterday—this, and the matching joggers. Hospital gift, apparently. Very posh."

Harry grinned, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "You deserve something nice," he murmured, brushing a hand gently over Louis's hair. "Figured you'd appreciate a little luxury."

Louis let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly, though the affection in his expression was unmistakable. "Well, you weren't wrong."

Ana, watching the interaction, couldn't help but smile. "It's a thoughtful gift," she said kindly. "But we'll have to get it off for now so we can take care of everything."

Louis's expression shifted, the humor dimming slightly as the reality of the situation set in. With his broken right arm and the dislocated left shoulder—still tender and bruised—the process was going to be far from pleasant. He glanced at Harry, his voice quieter now. "This is going to hurt, isn't it?"

Harry nodded, his hand tightening around Louis's in reassurance. "We'll take it slow, Lou. I'll help you. You're not doing this alone."

With Harry's help, Louis carefully lifted his arms, wincing immediately as the movement tugged at his injuries. His face contorted in pain, a sharp inhale escaping through clenched teeth. "Bloody hell," he muttered under his breath, his voice strained. "I feel like I'm ninety."

Harry kept his touch gentle but steady, supporting Louis as he carefully peeled the shirt away. The fabric caught slightly against the sling on Louis's right arm, and Louis let out another soft hiss of pain, his body trembling with the effort to stay still.

"You're doing so well," Harry murmured, his voice low and soothing as he worked. "Just a bit more, Lou. Almost there."

When the shirt finally came off, Louis exhaled shakily, his body sinking back into the pillows. He looked down at himself briefly, his ribs still bandaged, his bruises stark against his pale skin. His left shoulder was swollen, a reminder of the trauma he was still fighting to process.

Ana's expression shifted subtly as she took in his frame—his collarbones were more pronounced, his shoulders sharper than they should have been. He looked fragile in a way that tugged at her chest. She kept her concern to herself for now, determined to focus on the immediate task at hand.

"You're a trooper," Ana said softly, reaching for the supplies Tina had laid out. Her voice was steady but kind, a quiet reassurance. "Thank you for trusting us, Louis."

Louis gave a faint nod, his breathing still uneven as he leaned into Harry's side. His voice, barely above a whisper, carried a vulnerability that tugged at Harry's chest. "I'm only doing it because he's here."

Harry's arm tightened slightly around Louis, his presence a silent but constant reassurance.

Tina moved closer, her expression calm yet focused as she began removing the bandages from Louis's torso. Her touch was deliberate and careful, though the adhesive tugged at his skin, making Louis wince. A sharp hiss escaped through his teeth as his fingers gripped the blanket tighter.

"Sorry," Tina murmured, her tone apologetic but steady. "Almost done with this one."

As the final layer of bandage was peeled away, Ana leaned in to examine the wounds on Louis's chest and abdomen. Her sharp, trained eyes moved over the cuts with precision. The smaller injuries were healing well, scabbed over neatly, the redness fading. But the deeper wounds still looked raw and tender, requiring careful cleaning and redressing.

"These are healing well," Ana said encouragingly, glancing at Louis with a small, approving nod. "You're doing a great job keeping everything clean."

Louis managed a weak smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "That's all the nurses," he said, tilting his head toward Tina. "She's annoyingly thorough."

Tina grinned, her hands busy but her tone light. "You're welcome," she teased, the playful warmth in her voice cutting through the sterile tension.

Ana's gaze softened, her next words spoken with quiet care. "I know it's still painful, Louis, but this is a good sign. We'll clean and redress everything to keep it that way. You're healing, even if it doesn't feel like it yet."

Tina resumed her work, wiping each wound with an antiseptic solution. The sting was immediate, and Louis flinched, his jaw tightening as he fought to stay still. Harry's hand slipped over Louis's, squeezing gently as his thumb rubbed small, soothing circles.

"You're doing great," Harry murmured, his voice low and steady.

Louis exhaled slowly, his grip on the blanket easing slightly as he focused on Harry's voice, grounding himself in the moment.

After cleaning the wounds, Tina stepped aside as Ana applied a soothing cream to the areas showing signs of irritation. The coolness of the cream brought a brief relief, and Louis's shoulders relaxed just a fraction. "Almost there," Ana said softly, her tone encouraging as she smoothed the cream over the deeper wounds. "You're handling this really well."

Once the wounds on his upper body were tended to, Ana straightened, her gaze meeting Louis's. "Next step: the lower body," she said, her voice gentle but matter-of-fact. "Are you ready?"

Louis hesitated, his fingers curling into the blanket once more. The apprehension flickered across his face, but he swallowed hard, gathering his resolve. He glanced briefly at Harry, who gave him a small, reassuring nod.

Taking a steadying breath, Louis nodded, though his voice was barely above a whisper. "Yeah," he said, his words carrying a quiet determination that masked the fear churning inside. "Let's just… get it done."

Harry leaned closer, his voice low and soothing in Louis's ear. "I'm right here, Lou. You're not doing this alone."

Tina approached with practiced care, her movements deliberate as she eased Louis's joggers down, taking extra care not to jostle his legs. The fabric slipped away to reveal the bruises and cuts along his thighs and calves. Though still visible, the swelling had subsided, and many of the wounds were already closed, their raw edges softened by days of healing.

Ana crouched slightly, her sharp, attentive gaze scanning each area with precision. She touched the skin gently with gloved hands, ensuring no signs of infection or unusual tenderness. "These are looking good," she remarked, her tone both clinical and reassuring. "A few more days, and some of these might not even need bandages anymore."

Louis nodded faintly, his lips pressed into a thin line. Though Ana's words were meant to comfort, his body remained rigid, his grip tightening on the blanket as they moved lower. His anxiety was palpable, a silent storm building beneath his carefully composed exterior.

Finally, Ana paused, her warm eyes meeting his. Her tone softened, but it carried a seriousness that conveyed respect for the sensitivity of what came next. "Louis," she said gently, "we need to check the wounds in your intimate areas. Are you okay with that?"

Louis's breathing hitched, and he bit down hard on his bottom lip, his gaze darting momentarily toward Harry before returning to Ana. For a long moment, he seemed to be fighting an internal battle, his jaw clenching and unclenching. Then, with a sharp inhale, he gave a single, curt nod. "Go ahead," he forced out, his voice strained and barely audible.

Ana's heart ached at the visible strain on his face, the way his body seemed to fold in on itself despite his effort to remain composed. "Thank you for trusting us," she said softly, her tone laced with understanding. She gave him a moment to prepare, nodding to Tina, who quietly handed her the necessary supplies.

Harry's hand never left Louis's shoulder, his thumb moving in small, grounding circles. His voice, steady and calm, broke through the thick tension. "I'm right here," he murmured, leaning closer. "You're doing so well, Lou."

Louis didn't respond verbally, but his body shifted slightly toward Harry, as if drawn instinctively to the safety he provided. Tina carefully folded the waistband of Louis's boxers down just enough to expose the areas that needed care, her movements unhurried and considerate.

Ana worked with a steady efficiency, cleaning the wounds with antiseptic solution. Her hands were gentle, her touch as soft as possible, but the antiseptic's sting made Louis wince. His breathing grew uneven, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as he fought to keep himself composed. His teeth gritted, and his knuckles turned white as he gripped the blanket like it was his lifeline.

"You're doing great, Louis," Ana said softly, her voice a calming presence. "Just a little longer."

Louis nodded tersely, his body stiff and trembling slightly under her touch. The vulnerability of the moment pressed heavily on him, but Harry's hand on his shoulder anchored him, keeping him from spiraling.

When Ana inspected the area around the deeper wounds, Louis flinched, his body going rigid. He let out a sharp exhale, his face contorting briefly with discomfort. "Almost done," Ana reassured him, her tone unwavering. "No signs of infection—this is healing well. You're doing incredibly."

Finally, Ana straightened, adjusting Louis's boxers back into place with careful hands before stepping back and removing her gloves. She met Louis's eyes, her voice soft and kind. "That's it. We're all done, Louis. You did really well."

The room was heavy with tension as Tina and Ana prepared for the next stage of the examination. Louis lay on his side, but as Ana explained what needed to be done, her voice calm but firm, he knew there was no avoiding it. Reluctantly, with Harry's help, Louis was eased onto his stomach. His body was stiff with resistance, his hands gripping the sheets beneath him as though they might anchor him through the ordeal.

Tina carefully adjusted the pillows under Louis to ensure he was as comfortable as possible, but his face was already twisted in a mixture of pain and dread. "We'll start by checking your back," Ana said gently, her tone reassuring but professional. "There are some abrasions and bruises that need attention."

Tina began cleaning the wounds along Louis's shoulder blades and lower back, her touch steady but gentle. Louis flinched occasionally, his breath catching in his throat. Ana leaned closer, examining the bruises and cuts with meticulous care. "These are healing well," she remarked, her tone encouraging. "No signs of infection here, which is a good sign."

Louis gritted his teeth, his knuckles white against the blanket. "Great," he muttered, his voice muffled by the pillow. "Can we be done now?"

Ana paused and exchanged a glance with Tina before speaking again, her voice soft but serious. "Louis," she began, "we need to examine the injuries around your anal area more closely. I'd like to use a camera to ensure there are no internal issues or hidden signs of infection."

Louis's body immediately stiffened, his muscles locking as though bracing for impact. "No," he said flatly, his voice sharp and definitive. He didn't even lift his head to look at her. "That's not happening."

Ana wasn't surprised by his reaction and kept her tone measured. "I understand why this is difficult for you, Louis. But infections in that area can be extremely dangerous. If there's internal damage we can't see, it could lead to complications."

Louis's response was immediate and resolute. "I said no."

Harry, who had been sitting quietly beside him, tightened his grip on Louis's arm, his voice gentle but firm. "Lou, maybe we should think about this."

Louis turned his head sharply, glaring at Harry with fire in his eyes. "Think about what, Harry? Letting someone shove a camera into me after everything I've already been through? Are you serious right now?"

"Louis," Ana interjected gently, trying to calm the rising tension. "I wouldn't suggest this if it weren't important. You've been through so much already, and I want to make sure we're doing everything we can to keep you safe."

Louis shook his head vehemently, his hands clutching the sheets tighter. "No one gets it. None of you. Ican'tdo this."

Harry leaned closer, his voice thick with emotion. "Lou, please listen to her. She's saying it could be dangerous if something is missed. I know this is terrifying, but we're here. I'm here. You're not alone in this."

Louis's jaw tightened, his expression hard and stubborn. "You don't understand, Harry," he snapped, his voice trembling. "You don't know what it's like to feel like you're just a… a body. A thing for someone else to use. That's what this feels like."

Harry's breath hitched at the raw pain in Louis's voice, his own eyes filling with tears. He swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words. "I can't pretend to understand what you're feeling," he said softly, his voice cracking. "But I know I can't lose you. Lou, I've seen what happens when infections get out of control. Please, don't let that happen to you."

Louis turned away, burying his face in the pillow. His muffled voice came out low but firm. "I said no. I can't do it."

The desperation in Harry's voice was palpable as he leaned closer, his tears spilling freely now. "Lou, I have nightmares about the morning after the attack," he confessed, his voice trembling. "About not knowing if you were even alive. I wake up every night seeing those images, imagining losing you all over again. I can't go through that. Ican't. Please, let them do this."

Louis froze, his body going still at Harry's words. Slowly, he turned his head, his tear-filled blue eyes meeting Harry's. "You dream about that?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Harry nodded, his face etched with pain. "Every night," he admitted, his voice breaking. "And every time, it's worse. You're gone, Lou. And there's nothing I can do to bring you back."

Louis's chest heaved as he tried to process Harry's confession, his own tears spilling over. "I didn't know," he murmured, his voice shaking. "I didn't realize…"

Harry cupped Louis's cheek gently, his thumb brushing away a tear. "You're not the only one who's scared, Lou," he said softly. "I need you to fight for yourself, the way I'm fighting for you."

Louis closed his eyes tightly, his lips trembling. The silence that followed felt heavy, stretching endlessly, before he finally nodded, his voice so soft it was almost lost. "Okay," he whispered. "I'll do it. But… I'm scared, Haz."

"I know," Harry replied, his own tears falling freely now. "I know, Lou. But we'll get through this together."

Louis turned his face back into the pillow, his body trembling as he tried to steel himself for what was to come. Every muscle in his body was taut with dread, but Harry's hand holding his grounded him, a lifeline in the storm of his fear. For the first time, he felt the faintest flicker of strength—a strength borrowed from the man who refused to let go of him.

Ana stepped forward carefully, her movements deliberate, her voice steady yet gentle. "Thank you, Louis," she said softly, her tone warm with understanding. "We'll take this slow. If at any point you want us to stop, just say so, and we will. I promise, I'll be as careful as I can."

The preparation was precise, every detail explained as Tina and Ana worked to help Louis shift into a more comfortable position. Harry remained at his side, his hand never leaving Louis's. The air was heavy with tension, Louis's shallow breathing filling the silence as he braced himself.

Ana began the examination, inserting the camera slowly and carefully, her voice calm as she explained each step. "You're doing really well, Louis," she said soothingly. "Just take it one breath at a time."

But Louis's body rebelled against the intrusion, his muscles clenching involuntarily. He sucked in a sharp breath, his grip on Harry's hand tightening painfully. His breathing quickened, each gasp sharper than the last, and his body trembled under the strain.

"Stop," Louis gasped suddenly, his voice cracking with panic. "Stop, I can't—I can't—"

Ana immediately pulled back, her expression one of deep concern. "It's okay, Louis," she said firmly, her voice steady but kind. "We're stopping. You're too tense right now, and it's causing unnecessary pain. Let's pause."

Louis buried his face in the crook of his arm, his body wracked with tremors as he tried to suppress the sobs threatening to break free. Tears spilled onto the pillow, silent but relentless. Harry leaned over him, his own heart aching at the sight of Louis's pain. He pressed a lingering kiss to Louis's temple, his lips brushing softly against his damp skin.

"It's okay, Lou," Harry murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "You're doing so well. I'm so proud of you. We'll figure this out. I promise."

Ana hesitated, her brow furrowed in thought before she spoke again. "Louis," she said gently, her tone soft and non-threatening, "we can make this easier. I can give you a mild sedative—just enough to relax your muscles. It won't knock you out, but it will help ease the tension and make this less painful. Would you be okay with that?"

Louis didn't lift his head, his face still buried in his arm, but his body trembled with every uneven breath. For a long moment, he didn't respond, the silence stretching as Harry continued to stroke his hair in soft, repetitive motions.

Finally, his voice broke through the quiet, barely above a whisper. "Fine," he said, the word laced with exhaustion and defeat. "Do it."

Harry's hand tightened around Louis's, his grip firm yet comforting as he leaned closer, his forehead gently resting against the back of Louis's head. "You're so brave, Lou," he whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. "We'll get through this. Together."

Ana nodded, her tone calm but filled with compassion. "Thank you, Louis. This will help ease things. I'll explain every step so you feel in control."

She moved to prepare the medication while Tina stayed close, her voice low and soothing as she reassured Louis. The sedative was administered through an IV with practiced care. As the medication began to take effect, Louis's rigid posture gradually softened. His breathing slowed, the sharp edge of panic in his expression dulling slightly, though his grip on Harry's hand remained firm.

Ana crouched slightly to meet Louis's gaze, her voice steady. "We'll try again now. Remember, if you need us to stop, just say the word. You're in control."

Louis nodded weakly, his eyes heavy but resolute. His fingers tightened briefly around Harry's hand, grounding himself in the connection. Harry's free hand moved in slow, steady strokes across Louis's back, his touch a constant reminder that he wasn't alone.

This time, as Ana carefully reinserted the camera, Louis's body responded differently. Though his muscles tensed slightly, the sedative worked to keep him pliant. The discomfort was still there—raw and undeniable—but the sharp pain that had paralyzed him earlier was significantly dulled. His breaths came unevenly, but he stayed still, his face turned toward Harry, who continued murmuring soft, reassuring words.

"You're doing so well, Lou," Harry said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm right here. Just a bit longer."

The procedure stretched on, each second dragging into what felt like an eternity. Louis's fingers twitched against Harry's, his body occasionally shuddering as the discomfort pushed against his fragile calm. But he didn't pull away, his trust in Harry and the medical team holding him steady.

Finally, Ana withdrew the camera and stood, a small smile of relief softening her features. "No signs of infection," she said warmly. "Everything looks like it's healing as it should."

Louis let out a shaky breath, his chest rising and falling with the weight of his relief. His body slumped against the bed, exhaustion washing over him in waves. "Good," he whispered, his voice hoarse and barely audible. "That's… good."

Ana and Tina worked swiftly to clean and bandage the area, their movements efficient and gentle. Once finished, they helped ease Louis back into a more comfortable position, supporting him carefully as he settled into the pillows. His eyes fluttered closed almost instantly, the toll of the day evident in every line of his face.

Harry leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Louis's damp forehead, his lips lingering as he whispered, "You were so brave, Lou. I'm so proud of you."

For a moment, Louis didn't respond, his body too drained to muster words. But after a long pause, his fingers curled weakly around Harry's, the subtle movement speaking volumes. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "For… everything."

Harry's tears spilled freely, a mix of love, pride, and relief coursing through him. He smiled through the emotion, his heart aching with the depth of his admiration for Louis. "Always, Lou," he said softly, his voice steady despite the tears. "Always."

Ana sat back slightly, her pen poised over her clipboard as she regarded Louis with a warm, encouraging smile. "Alright, Louis," she began gently. "We've checked your wounds, and now I'd like to move on to a general health assessment. But it's entirely up to you. Would you like a break, or should we keep going?"

Louis didn't hesitate, his tone edged with exhaustion as he replied, "Let's just get it over with." His eyes flicked briefly to Harry, seeking reassurance. As always, Harry was there, his hand wrapped securely around Louis's, giving it a supportive squeeze.

"Alright," Ana said with a small nod, her voice calm and steady. "We'll start with the basics—blood pressure, pulse, temperature, and so on."

Tina stepped forward with the blood pressure cuff, moving with practiced ease as she gently wrapped it around Louis's arm. The fabric pressed snugly against his skin, and Louis winced slightly as the cuff inflated, the pressure biting into his already tender arm. He stayed still, though, his jaw tightening as he focused on Harry's hand in his own.

Ana watched the monitor intently, jotting down the numbers as they appeared. Her brow furrowed slightly, though her tone remained measured. "Blood pressure is on the lower side—not surprising, considering everything you've been through. It's likely due to stress and a lack of proper nutrition. We'll need to monitor it, but it's not immediately concerning."

She gestured to Tina, who moved to check Louis's pulse next. Tina's fingers were gentle as she pressed lightly against his wrist, counting quietly under her breath before noting the result. Then came the thermometer, which Louis tolerated with a resigned expression. The small beep finally signaled it was done, and Tina removed it, glancing at Ana.

"Pulse and temperature are within normal range," Tina said, handing the notes over to Ana.

Ana leaned forward slightly, her observant gaze catching the faint coolness of Louis's hands as he held them loosely against the blanket. She gently clasped one of his hands for a moment, the chill unmistakable. "Your hands are a bit cold," she remarked, half to herself, before adding with a faint smile, "Circulation could be better. It's manageable for now, but I'd like to keep an eye on it."

Louis let out a soft sigh, his lips twitching into the faintest semblance of a smirk. "They're always cold," he said lightly, though his voice was tinged with weariness. "It's like a permanent state for me."

Harry, seated beside him, let out a quiet chuckle, his green eyes soft as he looked at Louis. "That's true," he agreed. "Your hands are always cold. But right now?" He raised Louis's hand slightly, mock shivering for effect. "They're not just cold, Lou—they're actual ice blocks."

Louis let out a tired laugh, a brief sound that seemed to lighten the room for a moment. "Maybe you should knit me some gloves," he muttered, the sass in his tone weaker than usual but still present.

Harry grinned. "I might just do that," he teased, his thumb rubbing gently over Louis's icy knuckles. "Cashmere, obviously. Only the best for you."

Ana watched the exchange with a soft smile, allowing the moment of levity to linger before gently setting her clipboard down. Her tone shifted slightly, becoming more serious yet still kind. "Now," she began, "for the tricky part. I need to ask you a few personal questions."

Louis's smile faded, his body tensing slightly as he glanced between Ana and Harry. "Personal questions?" he echoed cautiously, his voice laced with skepticism.

Raising an eyebrow, he added dryly, "Haven't we already covered that with the whole… wound inspection?"

Ana chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Fair point. But this is more about your overall health—things like your size and weight. Let's start with something easy. How tall are you?"

Without missing a beat, Louis replied, "One seventy-five."

Harry immediately snorted, his lips twitching into a grin. "Try one seventy-two, Lou."

Louis shot him a mock glare. "Only on bad days. On good days, I'm at least one eighty."

Ana couldn't help but laugh at their banter. "I'm afraid charm doesn't add centimeters, Louis. I need your actual height."

Louis sighed dramatically, slumping against the pillows as though conceding defeat. "Fine. One seventy-two."

"Thank you," Ana said with a smile, jotting it down. "Now, about your weight."

At this, Louis shifted uncomfortably, his gaze dropping to the blanket covering him. He hesitated before speaking, his tone quieter. "Well, I've always tried to stay under seventy. I tend to gain weight on my stomach, and I don't like how that looks. Makes me feel… off."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Ana beat him to it. "That's fair, Louis. Everyone has their preferences about their body. And you've managed to maintain that weight?"

"Usually, yeah," Louis replied. "I've never been into muscles or bulking up—just football, a bit of running, staying active. Normally, I hover around sixty-eight kilos. But after Liam…" He trailed off, swallowing hard. "I dropped weight. I was down to below sixty. Couldn't eat properly. Grief does that to me."

Ana nodded sympathetically, giving him the space to continue at his own pace.

"When Harry and I got back together, it helped," Louis added, glancing at Harry with a faint smile. "He's annoyingly good at cooking, so I probably crept back up to sixty. Still lighter than I used to be, though."

Ana's pen hovered above the clipboard, her expression thoughtful. "And now?"

Louis stiffened slightly, his eyes avoiding hers. "I'd rather not know," he muttered quickly.

Harry's gaze softened, though his voice carried a quiet firmness. "Lou, they need to know. We need to know."

Louis looked at Harry, his jaw tightening as though preparing to argue, but the tenderness in Harry's expression caused his resolve to falter. With a reluctant nod, he muttered, "Fine. Let's just get it over with."

Tina brought the scale closer, setting it up beside the bed. Harry helped Louis stand, his hands steadying him as he took a few shaky steps toward the device. Louis's shoulders were hunched, his posture defensive as though bracing for an inevitable blow. As he stepped onto the scale, his eyes remained glued to the floor, his body tense with apprehension.

Ana frowned as she read the number, her brow furrowing in concern. "Fifty-three kilograms," she said quietly, her voice almost hesitant.

The room fell silent, the weight of her words sinking heavily into the air.

Louis let out a faint, humorless laugh, his lips curving into a bitter smirk. "Well," he said, his voice brittle. "That explains why I've been so bloody cold all the time."

Harry looked at him, his face a mixture of heartbreak and exasperation. "Lou, you'realwayscold. You'd wear jogging bottoms under a thick duvet and still complain. And you're the only person I know who insists on wearing hoodies in the summer."

Louis shrugged weakly, a flicker of his usual sass momentarily breaking through the heaviness. "Maybe I just like layers," he said softly, his voice carrying a faint attempt at levity. But the humor faded quickly as his gaze dropped, his fingers beginning to fidget with the edges of the blanket. After a beat, he added, almost reluctantly, "It's worse now, though. It's not just cold—it feels like I can't get warm, no matter what I do."

Ana's expression softened, concern evident in the furrow of her brow. She crouched slightly to meet his eye level, her voice gentle but firm. "Louis," she said softly, "you've lost a significant amount of weight. When you were admitted, you were already very light. And now… this isn't just about feeling cold. It's your body trying to tell you it's struggling."

"I know," Louis replied, his voice edged with defensiveness as he avoided her gaze. "But emotional stuff… it kills my appetite. Always has."

Ana exchanged a glance with Harry, who looked visibly troubled, his jaw tight as he processed Louis's words. Ana leaned in slightly, her tone kind but probing. "Do you have any idea why that happens, Louis? Why emotional stress affects you this way?"

Louis hesitated, his fingers curling and uncurling around the blanket. The silence stretched as he grappled with the question, and Harry, sensing his unease, gently guided him back into the bed, helping him settle against the pillows. The quiet rustle of the blanket was the only sound in the room for a moment before Louis finally spoke.

"It's… complicated," he admitted, his voice quieter now, as if weighed down by the vulnerability of the confession. "I was going to talk to you about it anyway. But it's not a short story."

Ana nodded, her posture remaining open and patient. "Take your time," she said, her tone understanding. "We can address it whenever you're ready. There's no rush."

Louis nodded back, his expression tense but determined.