Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The door slammed shut as the angel flapped his wings furiously, blue eyes blazing and cheeks pink with embarrassment. He grunted out a mostly-contained scream of frustration before throwing himself down on the only stool in the room.

His friends would be so disappointed in him. HE was so disappointed in himself! It just seemed like no one understood him or even WANTED to understand him. It was all just, “No, these are the rules and that’s that!” He’d tried to explain to Guardian Angel Uriel that he was just curious about the humans whose lives exist RIGHT THERE and yet so far away. Uriel had just looked fiercely, and a little sadly, at Louis before handing down his punishment.

To Louis, life on Earth seemed so varied, so spontaneous and so fascinating! Fellow angel Raphael, in his kind and caring way, tried to explain to Louis that humans were VERY different from angels and did his very best at attempting to distract Louis by letting him help care for the Tree of Life - showing him how everything exists in its place, has its own purpose and its own beauty.

Raphael explained that while angels also experience a full range of emotions, they are all unified by coming from a place of love, always, and strive to exhibit only the Seven Virtues of prudence, justice, temperance, courage, faith, hope and, of course, love. Humans, however, can be ruled by any of their many emotions, including the Deadly Sins of pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath and sloth.

Louis, for his part, never doubted Raphael’s words - he just wanted to see and experience it for himself. Just a taste. And so he would, on occasion, don differing disguises of a human and place his feet upon the Earth.

The first time he did so, the Earth was a beautiful, green, forested place with hidden secrets and magic unformed in the air. Villages of people were tiny and isolated from each other. People lived simple lives of growing or raising food. Their main focus was surviving the harsh winter season and loving. Oh how they loved! The love that radiated between parents and children, between friends, between spouses. It filled Louis with such a longing in his chest that he thought he might explode.

He would live among the people for a time - doing work in the fields for a small amount of food and a place to sleep. He would travel with them to church on Sunday and chuckle inwardly at the depictions of angels and heaven on the walls and ceilings. Michael MIGHT be the highest in the order of angels, it’s true, but Louis has seen him run around in fields surrounded by cherubs and giggling like a child himself. Not particularly terrifying once you get to know him.

After a time, Louis would return to heaven, armed with both knowledge and a heavy heart. Heaven is all about love, he knew that, but Earth …. Earth had LOVE. Louis could see so many decisions, even bad ones, were often made in the name of love. Humans had a passion for life and for each other that made Louis yearn for the experience.

His friends would say, “Why do you go down to Earth where everything is dirty and HARD?” And Louis would simply answer, “To see the love. Isn’t that what our influence is supposed to be teaching them? I just want to see it in action.” During one such discussion with his best mate, Niall, Louis tried to explain the joy that he had seen on Earth at, of all things, a funeral.

“You should have seen it Ni, they were all so sad when Hazel, an elder of her village, died. They cried like I’ve never seen before! They loved her so much for her healing and counsel over the years. I could barely make eye contact with any of them and I so wanted to tell them where Hazel was going and that she’d be ok!”

“That sounds bloody horrible, Lou! Why would you put yourself through that?”

“But don’t you get it, Ni? That’s the point! They LOVED her so much that it made them sad when she left. It was beautiful even though there was so much pain.”

Niall shook his head, not understanding at all what the attraction was towards pain. He himself preferred to only live in the Light of God. His role centred around bringing joy, peace and contentment to people in their dreams. Niall gained great happiness from seeing humans go to bed with minds filled with troubles and worries and then waking up with a solution, or the strength to endure. Niall lived for hope and happiness and he couldn’t understand for a second why his friend would place himself in the middle of sadness and death.

“After a while,” Louis continued. “they started to celebrate.”

“CELEBRATE? But you just told me how much they loved her and were sad!!?”

“Yes! And they were! But after they mourned her loss, they celebrated her life! There was dancing, storytelling, drinking and so much laughing! You never see anything like that here in Heaven.”

In the end, Louis just had to stop telling Niall and his other friends about Earth. They were all quite happy with their lives the way they were. They didn’t want to hear about passion, sex, babies, death, pain, joy. But Louis did.

So Louis kept making trips to Earth whenever he could, in whatever time frame he chose to dip in and out of. Time moved differently on Earth than in Heaven. While he could spend months, years, even decades on Earth, the time that had passed in Heaven might only be minutes. He was rarely missed during his excursions. Or so he thought.

He experienced life amongst the religious orders of Rome, visited the proud brown-skinned plains people of what would later be called America, choked in the overwhelming smog of industrial New York, stayed with hidden tribes in the depths of the Amazon, fighting for their declining rainforest haven, and even experienced the delights of life on the road with itinerant fruit-pickers in a series of small English towns.

Each time he returned with more stories that he couldn’t share and a bigger aching in his heart that couldn’t be cured.

Then came the day that he was summoned before Uriel, Angel of Punishment. Louis knew that this meant trouble but he didn’t know what he had done.

“Louis.” Uriel intoned in fierce, emotionless voice. “Please be seated.”
Uriel and a very sad-looking Raphael sat before Louis. Had he done something to damage the Tree of Life when he had been thinking of other things? Surely Raphael could fix whatever damage Louis had done? Louis scrunched his brow as he tried to remember something, ANYTHING he had done to damage the Tree.

“Louis. We have tried to be understanding of your unique qualities.” continued Uriel. “We can see the light and love that emanates from you and this is why we have indulged your desire to visit Earth over the years.”

Eyes widening, Louis held his breath. While he had never thought he was “getting away” with anything on his trips below, the fact that no one had ever addressed it with him made him think that it just wasn’t important enough to mention! The looks on the angel’s faces in front of him, however, told a very different story.

“Your impact on the Earth has become too great, Louis. There are humans who can sense your ‘otherness’, despite your human disguises. Tales have sprung up around a blue-eyed angel who brings with him peace and love and joy wherever he goes. They call you “The Watcher” or “Guardian” and have begun to pray to you.”

Louis gasped, tears springing to his eyes. Fear clenched his heart as he began to protest that this was never his intention. This could end with him being banned from Heaven. No angel was allowed to be an idol to humans. That was a cardinal sin amongst angel kind.

“Be still, Louis.” Raphael said, in his quiet, calming voice. “We do not suspect that you sought out this attention. Regardless, you have gained it. And it can’t continue.”

“We can no longer allow you to visit the Earth, Louis.” continued Uriel. “And you must learn to be satisfied with your role here in Heaven. You have developed a fascination for the humans and, dare I say, become to idealise them. There is no perfection on Earth, Louis. Only God is perfect and we all strive to be likewise. You must learn this and break away from humans and Earth.”

Raphael continued, “To this end, Louis, we are reassigning you from the Tree of Life, as sad as I am to lose your sparkling presence, to a place that might make you realise that human lives are full of sadness and hopelessness, much more so than the joy upon which you’ve focused. There you will reaffirm that Heaven’s role is to inspire and guide humans towards God’s love, not be a part of their lives.”

Louis’ insides tensed and his wings fluttered nervously as he wondered if he was being sent to Hell or even cast from Heaven altogether. With hands clenched and steely jaw, he awaited the verdict.

“Louis, you will henceforth be working in Broken Hearts. I trust you have heard of this?”

Louis nodded weakly, eyes widening as the words sunk in.

“You will see, Louis, that this is not a punishment of any kind. It is an education. You will see how broken are the hearts of humankind, how full of longing they are. This will give you perspective.”

And so Louis now sits, on his stool, among the broken hearts of humans waiting to be analysed, categorised and stored. Witnessing the pain and loss of the human condition and putting them to rest amongst the eternal corridors behind him.

Chapter Text

Harry uncurled himself from the bed that had become far too small for him and stretched his aching back. Just a few days ago his best mate Liam had commented on the bed, asking if Harry wanted a bigger one. Harry of course said no, Liam and his parents had already been far too kind to him over the past 8 years. Harry had a job now and he would save up enough money to buy a new bed if he needed one.

Though unfailingly kind and patient, Liam’s parents had never meant to become responsible for another child on top of their own three. They had always treated Harry with kindness and love but the fact that Harry was a child with particular needs had become increasingly difficult for the Paynes to handle.

Harry’s ongoing medications and psychiatric help cost far more than the small amount of money that his parent’s estate had contained. That money had run out over a year ago and now that Harry was 16, the only thing he could really do was leave school and get a job. University was out of the question as the Paynes already had 2 girls in Uni and one, Liam, about to enter. Harry really didn’t want to make them feel like they had to provide for him more than they already were and so he dropped out of High School one day, without telling anyone, and went looking for a job.

He had learned in life not to expect much so that he could be surprised when something good happened. And so he took a small spark of happiness when, after a day of trudging down the High Street and handing in resumes to disinterested shopkeepers, he ducked into a tiny tea and pastry shop for a cheap cuppa just as a sign was being placed in a window reading “Help Wanted”.

Harry approached the lady who had just placed the sign. She was soft and sweet-smelling, as grandmotherly as could be.

“Hi, um, I just noticed you put that sign up?” Harry asked quietly.

“Yes, dear. Are you interested? It is full time though. Are you old enough to have a full time job sweetheart? You’d still be at school wouldn’t you? I’m Barbara, by the way.” she offered a warm, slightly flour-encrusted hand.

“I’m Harry, pleased to meet you.” Harry replied, earning a broad smile from Barbara. “Yes I’ve left school now and would very much love a full time job. I have my resume here, I’ve not got much work experience but I have letters from my teachers recommending me.”

Barbara took the resume and glanced at the letters of recommendation as well as Harry’s details.

“Oh love, you’re only 16! Why aren’t you still in school?” she exclaimed.

Harry paused, considering how honest he should be with the kind lady, finally deciding that it was best to lay all of his cards on the table at once. Well, the relevant ones at least.

“I, uh, just needed to get a job. You see, I live with my mate because my parents died when I was little and, um, I just need to, like, pay them back for looking after me and start getting my life together. I can’t live there forever, taking up space in their basement and lives. I want to be independent ….. and maybe see what I’m good at.”

Barbara’s eyes stayed on Harry’s throughout his entire softly-spoken speech. “I’m sure you’re good at many things, Harry. For a start you have beautiful manners and a lovely heart. What do you dream of doing, apart from working in my bakery of course.” she added with a chuckle.

Harry flashed a quick smile before saying, “I did quite well in English in High School and I sing a bit. I would like to write songs and sing them if I can. But, for now, I’d really like to be a baker.”

And so Harry walked out of “B’s Tea House” with a cup of tea, some forms to be signed by his guardians, and a job. As Harry sat writing in his journal that night, he realised, today had been a good day.

Getting up at 4am every morning certainly wasn’t Harry’s idea of fun, but he took a pensive kind of joy in being awake when most of the world was asleep. The roads were quiet and so he could cycle in relative peace, listening to his favourite music as he went. Street lights illuminated the often wet roads and trees, giving this time of morning a magical feel.

It was at these times that he felt like he was existing separately from the rest of the world. Like he was IN it, but not PART of it. An outsider admiring what’s in the store but knowing he can’t afford anything in there. He would occasionally see someone heading off to work in the early hours, with a kiss from their husband or wife. Might see the silhouette of people in their bedrooms getting ready for the day ahead. Every image he saw seemed to reinforce in his mind that everyone had a place where they were loved. Everyone except him.

Of course Dr. Juni, his psychiatrist, would make him analyse and rationalise these thoughts. Make him verbalise the likelihood that these people were NOT, in fact, living ideal lives that were any happier than his, necessarily. That they had problems, illnesses, losses and sadness just like him. Harry would say all the right words, because that’s what Harry does, and repeat the positive affirmations with conviction and leave Dr. Juni with the impression that Harry is well on the way to recovering from his depression that had plagued his childhood and come to a head a year ago.

Harry hadn’t allowed himself to fully think of the events of a year ago yet. They had only touched on it in therapy so far but Harry knew he was going to have to face it sooner or later. Harry subconsciously rubbed his fingers over the bracelets on his left wrist as he parked his bike under cover and made his way inside the bakery.

Barbara always welcomed Harry in the morning with a freshly made cup of tea and the warmest of smiles. It took no time at all for Harry to feel completely at home in the bakery. He had his roles and responsibilities, he felt wanted and important because he could lift the heavy things that Barbara couldn’t and reach the highest shelves (even though this often earned him a cheeky pinch on the bum from Barbara!).

Harry began to settle into his routine. He gave ⅔ of his pay each week to the Paynes, despite their protests, and kept the rest for savings. He spent very little on himself, even on food, because occasionally something in the bakery would be broken or fall off a tray and Barbara would gesture towards Harry in a way that meant, “Get in!”.... and he would. Barbara even started allowing Harry to change the playlists of music in the shop to music that was more contemporary but still customer-friendly, so Harry would often be humming along to the likes of The Script.

As shy as he was, dealing with customers was really good for Harry. He had to learn to speak up a little and to smile a little more often. He had a way of making eye contact with customers and giving them a compliment that often took them by surprise and they left feeling much better about themselves than when they came in. There were even some customers who would wait until Harry was finished with his duties in the back room so that they could be served by him in particular. It gave Harry an enormous sense of accomplishment that he could make Mrs Greene, a widower of 4 months, smile at his knock knock jokes. Or Mr Jackson from the local council offices look up from his phone for a second to answer a question about the weather outside.

He still felt a little overwhelmed when a group of people came in, laughing and talking loudly, often over each other. Harry could feel his anxiety rising each time and would often make eye contact with Barbara who would come out and confidently handle the rowdy groups. One such group were the itinerant orchard workers who would come in, seasonally, to pick fruit and then move onto the next town. The first time they came in, Harry made his speedy Barbara-assisted escape and set about tidying and cleaning while the group about 10 people, mainly men, laughed and joked their way through their orders.

As Harry was working, however, he felt an uncomfortable prickle on his face and looked up to see a pair of the bluest eyes he’d ever seen gazing back at him with a friendly expression and a nod of the head. Harry blushed under the scrutiny and smiled slightly before bending down and going about his cleaning.

The group returned a few days later and Barbara was, sadly, otherwise occupied making eclairs and couldn’t leave them. Harry took a deep breath and tried to stem his nerves and readied himself to write down their orders.

“What are ya havin’ Tom? One of them fancy pink cakes, mate?”
“Oi! Fuck off, twat! I want a pie, you tosser!”
“Hey, yeah they look good, what sort do you have there lad?”
“Don’t barge in there Mike, Jesus, wait your turn!”
“Hey, look, the kids’ hands are shaking! What’s wrong boy? Scared of this one’s ugly mug???”

Harry looked up from his notepad, wide-eyed and unmistakably uncomfortable. He could feel his breathing becoming ragged and shallow and felt the prickle of tears in his eyes. His fight or flight instinct was just about to kick into “RUN!” when he heard a loud, but somehow melodic voice.

“Hey, shut it you berks! Tom! SHUT IT! Now, get in a fookin’ line and tell the lad what you want, one at a time. Piss off to the back there Mike, what’s wrong with ya?”

And with the precision of a primary school teacher, the blue-eyed man got the unruly mob to give their orders. Harry shot the man a small, grateful smile and the man looked back at Harry with a look of such kindness and understanding that it honestly took Harry’s breath away. The man’s composure, strength and kindness had Harry writing page after page in his journal. Lines of poetry, drawings of the constellation of freckles

From then on, whenever the group came into the shop, the blue-eyed man would always keep them in check so that Harry could get the orders and fill them quickly. Each time the two would share a little smile and occasionally the blue-eyed man would offer a word or two like “You’re doing so well”.

After a month of such visits, the blue-eyed man said to Harry, “Well, this is the last time you’ll be seeing this mob of dickheads for a year or so!” And Harry couldn’t help but feel a little twinge of sadness, not at the departure of the pickers but of the blue-eyed man who Harry barely knew but who somehow piqued his interest in a way that he hadn’t allowed himself to feel for over a year now.

After the orders were filled and people started filing out of the shop, the blue-eyed man stayed for a minute and said, “Harry, I’m Louis.” as he shook Harry’s hand. “You have a beautiful soul, Harry, it shines through your eyes.” The man dropped Harry’s hand, picked up his pastry and tea and walked out of the door with Harry’s eyes trained on his back, trying to make sense of the feeling of both deja vu and hope that suddenly sprung into his heart.

Chapter Text

Louis wasn’t sure if this new job was meant to break his spirit, turn him away from the human world or just MIGHTILY piss him off. At the moment it was doing all three. You wouldn’t think there would be THIS many broken hearts to deal with on a daily basis. And Louis’ job was to label them, categorise them and store them.

Unhappily for Louis, this meant holding each heart in his hand so that he could determine what broke it. And Louis just can’t, for the LIFE of him, understand why this is even a thing! Why does anyone need to or want to know this? Shouldn’t they just be disposed of? Out of sight and out of mind? Or healed? Yes! Surely that could be the job of Heaven’s angels? To find the owners of these broken hearts and magically heal them?

But no. Everything in Heaven (and Earth) has a reason and Louis knows that. And Louis also knows that most beings never, ever, find out the reasons behind God’s decisions.

And so Louis sighs and unscrews the lid of the bottle holding yet another dark, cold heart. Or, more accurately, the spiritual essence of a heart that contains all the pain that caused it to break. And yes, a broken heart IS real. While angels might not live lives that cause them to experience such human emotions, Louis has now felt enough human pain to understand that a permanently broken heart is definitely a reality.

Louis puts his hand in the large glass jar to hold the heart inside. He closes his eyes lightly as he tries to relax for the onslaught of emotions that he is probably going to experience. And he isn’t mistaken. A woman, no more than a teenager really, verbally and emotionally abused as a child, sexually abused as a young teenager, a victim of both racism and sexism in her life and then, Louis breathes in sharply, the final straw. The woman’s mother, the only constant support and source of happiness in her life, had died in a car crash. The girl had spiralled into depression and all the efforts of the other angelic departments had not brought her out of it.

Angels like Niall, sent in to give her dreams of healing and happy memories. Angels that send strength and achievement. Angels of confidence and self-belief. Nothing had worked. And so this girl’s once-shining heart now lay in front of Louis.

As was often the case, a tear escaped from Louis’ eye as he experienced the girl’s pain before releasing the heart, screwing the cap back on and setting about writing a label for the jar and placing it in its appropriate section.

Walking up and down the aisles, Louis’ eyes darted along the rows, looking for that miraculous event that sometimes happened, the healing of a broken heart. You see, some hearts CAN repair. It doesn’t happen very often but ever so often a person with a broken heart will heal, with enormous love, patience and commitment. Sometimes with the right medical help and/or loving family help, a person can return from that darkest of places and the tiniest glow would start to pulse and part of Louis’ job was to spot these precious sparks and move them out of the dark rows and back to a place where angels such as Niall can bless them with sweet and strengthening dreams. Louis LIVES for days when he finds such a heart.

In the Halls of Broken Hearts, there were many dark corners. Some darker than others, that’s for sure. Louis counted it as a good day if one of the darkest hearts did not cross his path.

Today, however, was not one of those days. Renewed hearts were the best part of his job, but rare, and then sometimes hearts are broken and the owner learns to live on, albeit a sad and often lonely existence. Some, however, turn their sadness into anger and that anger into the desire to hurt others. It’s these kinds of hearts that scare Louis the most and, he suspects, are also the ones in which Heaven is most interested.

One such heart lay before him right now. He’d already put his hand in, trembling a little with trepidation, as he noticed the coal black exterior and the ripples of angry red running through it. He knew this would be a bad one.

Returning his hand to the jar, Louis steeled himself and grasped it lightly, letting the history wash through him. An abandoned and abused child, in and out of foster care his whole life, bullied at school. A boy who sought solace from the pain that he was experiencing by torturing and killing small animals that were unfortunate enough to cross his path. A young man who became a drug addict, a vain attempt to quell the dark desires of his heart before merely becoming an excuse to give into them. A man who, by the age of 27, when his heart was officially a cold, black, broken thing, had killed and mutilated 4 women, all of them in the image of the elderly foster carer who had accepted money so that the boy could be used like an object by evil men.

Louis withdrew his hand like he’d been shocked and wiped away the tears that prickled the corners of his eyes. Was it bad that he felt some empathy for this monster, as well as horror? If only God had intervened directly when this man was a little boy, he thought, then maybe none of this would have occurred. But that was dangerous thinking. No Heavenly Being must ever question the Will of God, nor the concept of Free Will given to humans, to behave as they choose and deal with the consequences accordingly.

Louis knew he would need to convey the information he’d gathered and written to the Guardians. A heart like this, belonging to a human who was still living, was out of the reach of other Cherubim like Niall. This human needed to be watched by the intermediaries of Heaven, the Guardians themselves. While they weren’t allowed to directly stop such a human, they had the power to guide others to steer clear of him or alert them to his dark heart. It was a gentle power that skirted along the edges of intervening in Earthly matters but it often made a difference and, even more importantly, often brought people closer to God.

Louis finished writing the label for the jar and proceeded to take it down a long corridor of similar terrifyingly black hearts. Louis shuddered as he passed down the shelves, catapulted involuntarily back to a time when he had encountered such a heart in one of his Earthly travels and had been so disturbed by the darkness he witnessed that he chose to leave that timeline.

It’s one thing to be a watcher, a guardian or a positive influence on the humans he interacted with but he knew he was never, ever, able to make a direct impact. All of his attempts at soothing this man’s dark soul had failed and Louis wished, many times, that his angelic abilities to read people followed him into his Earthly form so that he could see what had made this man so dark and dangerous. In the end, the only solution had been to leave and trust that God would guide the man.

“Louis!” called a joyful voice as Louis made his way from Broken Hearts.

“Niall!” smiled Louis. “And Ed! Mate, so good to see you two. You both look extremely happy with yourselves there, what have you been up to?”

“Just pulled off a really successful dream intervention, Lou. It was so good!” Niall enthused.

“Such a sad case,” Ed continued. “The boy had been through trials that nearly destroyed him. He had lost his parents at a very young age and then his adopted family nearly lost him, mentally speaking. But Niall and I have been working on him every night, singing him songs of strength and visions of a better future and he’s been getting stronger and stronger every day!”

“Yeah and now he’s finally waking up and taking charge of his day and his life!” smiled Niall. “He has a job and he sees himself as having a positive future.”

Louis smiled at the two angels with such pride and happiness for them. “You two are amazing. I’ve seen what you can do for people and the changes you make not only to that ONE person’s life but to a whole family or community. That’s incredible news!”

The three angels embraced in a slightly awkward three-way hug before going their separate ways, giggling.

“All of our jobs have a purpose.” Louis thought to himself as he made his way to speak to the Guardians.

Chapter Text

Harry adjusted his bun for about the tenth time that morning, earning a curious and fond smile from Barb.

“What’s all the nerves about, love?” she enquired.

“Oh, um, nothing! Just waiting for the eclairs to be done. Hope I got them right.” Harry attempted.
“Harry, you’ve been making the eclairs single-handed now for months, why the sudden nerves?”

Harry adjusted his apron as he shrugged a little and set about cleaning while still watching the eclairs carefully. If he also had an eye on the front door, no one was to know.

In the past 9 months, Harry had come to view the bakery like a second home. Sometimes even more so than the house where he lived, especially now that Liam was off at Uni. Harry loved the warmth, the smells, the comfort and the challenge of working for Barb. She had taught him so much about baking and business but nothing was more important than the fact that she’d taught him to trust himself.

On top of that, Harry was finally sleeping through the night and waking up feeling refreshed and with renewed strength. Often he would wake up with lingering songs from his dreams and hurry to write down phrases that were drifting through his mind like smoke.

*If I'm louder, would you see me? Would you lay down, In my arms and rescue me?

*If we could only have this life, For one more day, If we could only turn back time, You know I’ll be, Your life, Your voice, Your reason to be, My love, My heart, Is breathing for this, Moment, In time

*You'll never love yourself half as much as I love you, And you'll never treat yourself right darlin’ but I want you to, If I let you know I'm here for you, Maybe you'll love yourself like I love you

*And I can lend your broken parts, That might fit, like this, And I will give you all my heart

*But there's nothing I'm running from,You make me strong.

Harry sometimes marvelled at the words that appeared before him on the page, wondering where such words of hope and strength were coming from. It was these beautiful phrases and melodies that made Harry hope that, one day, he could write songs that inspired people and make them notice and feel the love that they deserve.

Maybe it’d even work for him.

Harry’s sessions with his psychiatrist had also scaled back and that meant Harry had a whole lot more in his savings nowadays. Dr. Juni was so pleased that he was well on his way to overcoming the challenges in his life so far and was, currently, medication free and feeling pretty damn happy about it too.

Two years ago, Harry been a shell of his current self. A quiet, slightly weird kid who was not only orphaned and living with his mate’s family but also recently coming to grips with the fact that he was gay. After discussing it with Dr. Juni, Harry had come out to the Paynes.

They were, as he had hoped, accepting and caring although Geoff, Liam’s dad, had taken it upon himself to have a serious man-to-man talk with Harry about whether this might be a phase. That was incredibly awkward. Especially when he then followed it up a few days later, with the “safe sex” talk. Harry had already endured this talk along with Liam but this one was the special “Oh So Your Kid is Gay!” version.

Harry had never really believed in God or prayers, but he DID pray especially hard that evening for there to be an earthquake that would selectively swallow down the “Sexually Transmitted Infections - It’s Everyone’s Business.” and “Anal Sex Facts” pamphlets, condoms and lube that Geoff had laid out on the bedspread for him. The earthquake hadn’t eventuated and Harry was unable to look at Geoff in the eyes for a week.

Harry grew in confidence and, buoyed by the enthusiasm of Liam’s sisters, Nicola and Ruth, started to make small changes. Harry’s whole mission in life up until now was to make himself as small and insignificant and unnoticeable as possible by wearing baggy, dark clothes and close-cropped hair under a cap. Harry was softly spoken and rarely gave eye contact but he really wanted to make a change and he thought the upcoming 2 week Term break might be the time to rejuvenate himself a little.

“No! I’m not wearing THOSE!” squeaked Harry, exasperated at Ruth’s choice of skinny black jeans.

“Harry! You totally should! You have long legs, they’ll look great in these and, I promise, they’re not super tight!” Ruth replied.

“And you can’t just keep wearing trackies and baggy khakis for the rest of your life! You could fit all three of us in those things!” added Nicola.

Harry sighed, resigned, but counted it as a small victory that he successfully vetoed the sheer, flowery shirts the girls had brought to him in favour of some cool band tees and a denim jacket with lambswool lining.

“I would never, EVER wear something like that, Nic! It’s practically obscene!”

“That’s the idea Harry, that’s the idea.” smirked Nicola.

He let his hair grow and although he was nervous about the curls springing free, Ruth showed him how to use product to control them while Nic assured him that “Curls get the girls”. Honestly.

When he returned to school after the holidays, the change was quite noticeable and Harry was nearly wetting himself with fear. Luckily Liam, always dependable, confidently walked Harry to his first class on the pretext of catching up with a boxing mate. Liam was completely see through but Harry had never been more grateful for his best friend. It didn’t escape the notice of either of them that more than a few people did a double-take as Harry and Liam passed by.

By the time Liam had gone and Harry was seated in class, he truly felt like every eye was on him. Even his teacher gave him a second extra eye-contact and smiled before she started. Harry was regretting all of his life decisions at this point.

“Hey Harry!” shouted a voice.

Harry whirled around, eyes wide with surprise, as a girl named Penny called him over. He’d known Penny for a long time and she’d often tried to talk to him but he’d never really let her be his friend. Harry was frozen, looking in her direction for a minute before she laughed, walked up to him and grabbed his arm.

“I’m going to introduce you to my friends, ok?” she asked earnestly, seeking his eyes for permission.

Harry nodded and Penny whisked him over to her friends and then they made their way to the lunchroom together. In the 4 years Harry had been at High School, this was the first time someone had invited him to sit with them at lunch and Harry felt a bit like a king right now, alright? Although he sat there quietly for the most part, he laughed at all the right times and felt giddy with happiness when one of Penny’s friends, Caitlyn, yelled, “See you tomorrow, Harry!” as they left.

After school, Harry ran to catch up with Liam in the carpark and Liam could tell that today had been a good day by Harry’s wide-eyed smile. He put Harry in a headlock and ruffled his hair with pleasure before the boys got in and drove home.

Harry was starting to forget the weird kid he had been up until a few months ago. He rubbed the waxy product through his almost-shoulder-length hair and then decided to undo a few buttons of the sheer, flowery shirt he was wearing to the party tonight. Well it only had ONE flower, a big red rose embroidered over the front, so, technically speaking, it was neither “flowery” nor see through. Technically.

“C’mon Styles!” yelled Liam’s voice from the top of the basement stairs. “We’re leaving!”.

Harry bounded up the stairs with a smile that could put the night’s stars to shame. Tonight was going to be a good night.

Harry saw Penny as soon as he entered the house and waved at her, her face lighting up when she saw him.

“Harry!” she gasped. “You look A-MA-ZING! Oh my God!” causing Harry to ruffle his hands through his hair nervously.

“You think so?”

“YES!!!! I’m now starting to regret how easily I let you go, you know! I might hand back my BFF badge and ask for the GF one back!” she laughed. Penny’s easy teasing made Harry relax somewhat.

They had fallen into a close friendship after that first day and it didn’t take long for people to assume they were a couple. There had even been that night when, drunk off cheap wine coolers, they had snogged against a tree at a party. It had been pret-ty steamy.

It had, however, confirmed what Harry already knew. That he just wasn’t into girls in that way.

Penny had been a little disappointed at first but was now making it her mission to find Harry’s first boy-kiss for him.

“Look at him, babe!” she whispered, less subtly than she intended. “He’s so cute! I’m pretty sure someone said he had a boyfriend last Winter, I saw an insta pic of him and another lad on December 7 and they looked VERY cozy! Maybe you should introduce yourself?”

“I don’t know, Pen. I just got here, let’s get a drink and dance, yeah?”

As the two danced, Penny graceful and on-tempo and Harry flinging arms around like a spaghetti monster, their mood lightened and genuine laughs spilled, along with some of the cheap wine they were drinking.

Harry couldn’t help but notice that the boy Penny pointed out earlier WAS in fact glancing his way from time to time.

Covered in sweat, Harry excused himself a while later to go and get some fresh air, leaving Penny to dance with Liam who seemed to be finding it hard to formulate words around her for some reason.

Harry was chuckling as he exited the house then took a deep gulp of the fresh night air to soothe his nerves and mind. He stared up at the stars and tried to count them, something he regularly tried to do when he was little. His parents always laughed when he’d run out of numbers, “.... fourteen, fiveteen, sixteen, eighteen, ninetyteen……..uh….. INFINITEEEN!”
Harry gave a small, wry smile at the memory before a hand touched his shoulder, making him jump.

“Hey mate, what’s got you looking all dreamy out here?” a voice said.

Harry whirled around, it was the fit looking lad from inside! Harry’s eyes widened as he took in the boy’s appearance. Tall, athletic, light brown hair and deep brown eyes with an easy, wide smile. He was quite dreamy himself, Harry thought.

“Oh, uh, nothing! Just looking at the stars I guess, I was getting a bit hot in there.” Harry gestured faintly towards the noisy party.

“Yes you were!” the boy answered with a wolfish grin. “I’m Simon, by the way, Simon Carmichael. I’ve seen you around at school, I’m in Liam’s grade.”

“Harry. Yeah I’ve seen you around too, you’re in boxing aren’t you?”

“Yep that’s me, love a bit of the ole one-two-one-two!” Simon demonstrated with small jabs towards Harry’s stomach, causing Harry to laugh and relax a little.

“So,” Simon continued. “You looked like you were having fun in there dancing.”

“Um, yeah.” Harry laughed. “I’m a terrible dancer!”

“No, no! Don’t put yourself down!” Simon retorted, reaching out to put his hand on Harry’s arm. “As long as you have fun, that’s what’s important! And, well, you did look pretty hot.”

Harry’s pulse-rate quickened as he realised the implication of Simon’s words and he looked searchingly at the older boy’s face and noticed Simon’s eyes raking down Harry’s exposed chest.

“Fuck, you are pretty.” murmured Simon, almost to himself.

Harry could hardly believe his eyes or his ears and noticed that Simon had started to stroke Harry’s arm through the sheer shirt, giving rise to goosebumps all over.

“Hey, Harry, would you be interested in going for a walk? There’s a park nearby where we could sit and, um, talk?”

Harry’s words were caught in his throat but he managed to nod enthusiastically, earning him a fond-sounding laugh from Simon and the boys set off down the darkened road. Stepping between the puddles of light from street lamps, the boys talked about their classes and teachers, Simon making Harry laugh with tales of a time he had run into Mr. Barilla, his senior History teacher, at the shops holding hands with who was obviously his male partner.

“I thought his eyes were going to bug out of his head!” Simon laughed. “He didn’t know what to say at first but when he saw I wasn’t freaked out, he was really nice. Now he always makes a point to say hi to me at school. And it doesn’t hurt to have someone look at your work favourably from time to time!” Simon concluded.

Harry smiled and nodded along with Simon’s stories and, although he had little to offer in terms of amusing anecdotes, he did feel like he was beginning to relax and enjoy himself. He allowed himself a small smile thinking how happy Penny and Liam and the girls were going to be that he made a new friend tonight. And maybe …… MAYBE …….he’ll get his first boy-kiss!

They arrived at the park and Simon made a bee-line for the swings, yelling “C’mon, see how high you can get!”

Both boys swung, laughing, until the swings started to sway erratically and both decided, in the interest of personal safety, that they better scale it down a bit. They walked over and collapsed onto the twin slippery slides, feet dangling over the ends as they stared up at the sky and continued laughing about their “near brush with death”.

A lull in the conversation caused Harry to look away from the stars and over at Simon who was facing Harry, eyes trained on Harry’s lips.

“Um, so, Harry?” questioned Simon.

“Y-yeah?”

“I’m not very good at being subtle and shit,” he paused to let out a soft giggle-sigh. “but I was wondering if you’re, um, interested? In me?”

Harry gulped as all the spit immediately left his mouth and he croaked out, “Yeah, I think so. I mean, I am, yeah.”

Simon edged a little closer to Harry and reached one hand out to brush some curls away from Harry’s face.

“You’re so lovely, I always knew you would be, underneath all those ugly clothes.”

Harry giggled nervously and held his breath as Simon edged closer.

“Any second now”, Harry thought.

Simon closed the distance between them and pressed his lips oh-so-softly onto Harry’s. Harry marvelled at the warmth and tenderness of it as he moved his own hand up to cup the back of Simon’s head. The kiss deepened as Simon opened his lips a little, nudging Harry’s apart while doing so. Harry couldn’t stop a small noise of pleasure as the moist warmth of Simon’s mouth enclosed his.

The sound of a stone ricocheting off the metal slide startled both boys apart as they heard, “Are you two fags quite done? Fuckin’ queers!” the hateful voice sneered.

Harry instinctively drew away from Simon and backed as far against the slide as he could as he took in the sight in front of him. Three dark figures, the only light being from the glow of their cigarettes, stood before them. One of the three picked up a few more rocks and threw them at the metal slides again, the noise shattering the peace of a few moments before.

“Can’t fuckin’ help yourselves, can ya?” the voice continued. “Were ya gonna fuck right here in the kids’ playground? Filthy cunts!”

Harry had begun to sweat as adrenaline made of pure fear washed over him. He could see Simon in his peripheral vision but was too afraid to look directly at him. His mind became a litany of, “Someone help us, please, someone.”

“Is that you Robbo?” Harry started at Simon’s sudden question.

“Yeah, what’s it to ya, Carmichael? I didn’t know you were a fuckin’ fruit! But I think you and your faggy boyfriend need to learn a lesson or two, don’t you think, boys?” the man named Robbo turned to address his friends, earning him grunts of agreement from the other two.

“Hey, hey!” Simon continued. “We’re mates, yeah? I’ve boxed against you before, no need for trouble here!”

“Oh, yes, there IS a fuckin’ need for trouble, MATE. I’m not interested in being some poofter’s MATE and I’m sure as hell not going to want to box against you again, might catch some fucking thing. I bet no one else is going to want to either! Wait till I tell the whole team what I caught you doing out here, Carmichael. Always so high and fucking mighty aren’t ya, well not after tonight!”

Harry saw Simon ease himself up off the slide with his hands out in a placating manner.
“Hey, Robbo.” Simon chuckled nervously. “This isn’t what you think it is! I’m, uh, no FAG, man!”

Simon paused to run his hand through his hair before gesturing dismissively at Harry.

“This was a dare, dude! The rest of the guys bet me twenty that I couldn’t pull Styles here and drag him to the park, they’re expecting a photo any second now!”

“Which other guys?” sneered Robbo.

“Johnson, Trimble and Williams. Swear to God. Williams said he’d make me vice-captain of the team if I did the dare! As if I’d touch HIM otherwise!” Simon concluded, pointing at Harry with a snarl on his face.

Harry could do nothing but watch the exchange with an open mouth and a wave of cold shock coursing through his body. Time had stopped and Harry’s fear-addled brain could think of no words or actions that would make this situation better.

“Williams does love his dares….” muttered one of the three boys. “He’ll kick us off the team if we fuck with him, Robbo.”

Robbo was staring intently at Simon who was doing his best to put a smirk on his face to prove his story. After what seemed like an hour, Robbo lifted his chin, signifying he believed Simon’s story. Harry could see Simon let out a huge breath of relief.

“What sort of photo does Williams want?” barked Robbo.

“Uh, um, just proof that me and him were here at the park together I guess……”

“Well, get your camera out.” ordered Robbo.

Simon moved to get his phone out and get closer to Harry to take the photo.

“Not yet, Carmichael. We’re going to make Harry here a bit …… PRETTIER ….. for the photo.” Robbo chuckled dangerously, his two mates echoing. “Go show him a few moves, boys.”

As the two boys approached, Harry tried to shrink back into the metal of the slide and frantically looked from side to side to see if there might be anyone walking by, a light on in a nearby house, anything. But there was nothing.

One of the boys pulled Harry roughly by the shirt, popping the remaining buttons in the process. He thrust Harry towards the other assailant, causing Harry to stumble, limbs heavy like lead and eyes clouded with fear.

The first blow was directly to Harry’s jaw and Harry hit the ground with a thump. The searing pain in his face brought tears to his eyes and a ringing to his ears to the point where the only things he could sense were pain and fear. The boxers took turns punching Harry in the face and stomach and kicking him when he collapsed on the ground.

Harry could taste warm, metallic blood in his mouth as he thought he heard Simon’s voice shakily say, “I think he’s had enough, guys!”

“Yeah, take your photo, Carmichael. Fuckin’ hurry up about it, let’s get out of here.” Robbo demanded.

Harry heard the shutter sound of the camera. “Ok, let’s go!” a voice said.

“I’ll catch up, go ahead.” Harry heard before he suddenly smelt Robbo’s rank alcohol-filled breath on his face.

Robbo’s voice was low and dangerous. “If you fuckin’ say ANYthing about this, fag, you’re gonna be sorry. I’m going to take out a little insurance.”

Harry winced and drew his knees to his chest, expecting more blows, but none came. He strained to open his eyes but tears and blood rendered them useless and then he heard the sound of a zipper.

“You won’t tell a single soul about this, Styles, because if you do, these photos are going up everywhere.”

Robbo wrenched Harry roughly to his feet and pulled his jeans down with brute force. Harry could do nothing but cry and pray for it to be over as Robbo violated him and took photos. Harry hardly made a noise even as pain seared through his body and shock overtook all of his senses. He didn’t even register when Robbo finished and was gone, he just realised he was now laying on the dirt; naked and bleeding.

“Harry, hey, Harry …… we’re here, mate, we’re here.” Harry could hear a soft, masculine voice saying over and over as he drifted in and out of consciousness.

There was pain in every part of his body and every time he tried opening his eyes, the bright white light was searing.

Harry could sense people around him, holding his hands, talking in hushed tones. It started to come back to him and he couldn’t stop the tears as shame, pain and desperation washed over him.

“Mum! Mum! He’s waking up!” Harry heard Ruth call out and all of a sudden he could feel that he was surrounded by people.

“Hey, mate.” he heard Liam’s soft voice say. “Open your eyes, hey? We’re here for you.”

Harry’s body offered up more tears but Harry was unable to open his eyes to see the faces of the people he loved. People who would, no doubt, now know what had happened to him. The shame was overwhelming and he started to shake with fear and sadness.

The authoritative voice of a doctor, thankfully, cleared out the room then and Harry was able to open his eyes on command and respond to the Doctor’s instructions. The Doctor explained the results of various tests and the extent of his injuries but it made little sense to Harry.

Over the next few days, Harry was progressively able to move, stand, shower himself and, of course, begin to respond to his visitors. Karen, Liam’s mum, re-explained to Harry that his injuries would take time to heal but there was no permanent damage and that he’d been tested for transmissible diseases and was in the clear. Harry nodded his acceptance of the news and felt some tiny relief.

It was so hard though. He could barely look anyone in the eyes, knowing that they knew what had happened to him. Penny just cried, feeling responsible for leaving him alone at the party. The sadness and pity in her eyes was something that broke Harry’s heart but he was unable to offer any words of condolence to her.

Harry withdrew inside himself after that. Returning to his baggy, dark clothes. Constantly wearing a hat or beanie to cover his hair. The Paynes tried to reach him but Harry’s constant look of terror and sadness held them back. Their love and concern soon took the form of psychologist visits, medication for depression and constant monitoring should Harry show any signs of self-harm or suicidal thoughts. A different person might have rebelled against their scrutiny but Harry just didn’t have it in himself to care. He acquiesced to their requests and questions and, over time, tried to give them a little of himself in return.

Penny and her friends attempted to return to normal at first but it was very obvious that Harry was causing intense discomfort each lunchtime and so he soon started to eat in a secluded spot near the library. Penny didn’t come to find him. She did occasionally wave or say hi to him at school but after a few times and no response from Harry, she gave up. It was for the best anyway, Harry thought.

After an intense investigation into the assault and rape, no solid proof was found to accuse anyone. Harry had said that he left the party, alone, and walked to the park for some fresh air when he had been set upon by several men, possibly homeless, who had been looking for money. Another ordeal for Harry to endure and, then, it was over too and Harry was just left with his demons.

Harry breathed out the negativity of the thoughts of the past few years as he adjusted his bun yet another time before getting started on filling and icing his eclairs.

He wondered if today would be the day that a certain man with sky-blue eyes would come into the bakery with his crew on the fruit-picking rotation. Hope flickered in his heart.

A small smile quirked the corners of his mouth as the doorbell jingled and the noisy crew entered. Harry’s eyes raked over the group, looking for Louis. A couple of the regulars offered up a “Hey mate” to Harry which Harry returned with a smile.

As the men were deciding on their orders, Harry asked one of the men he recognised from last year about Louis.

“Nah, mate, he dropped off a few months ago, haven’t seen him since. Shame too, he was a good team leader. Funny as shit, good listener. Still, that’s the nature of the game!” concluded the man to the agreement of several standing around him.

Harry began to ask for orders but was interrupted.

“He was a dickhead” muttered one man under his breath.

“Sorry?” responded Harry.

“Tommo, he was a dickhead, thought he was better than everyone else. Always fuckin’ watching me. Good riddance I say.”

“Oi! Shut up, Martinson. Just ‘cause you didn’t get on! And he was only watching you in case you fucked up, pull your head in!”
“Now, now, boys.” Barb intervened kindly. “Today is far too beautiful for arguments, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yeah, Martinson, you heard the lady, shut it, ya dickhead” remarked another.

The man, Martinson shot murderous looks at his co-workers and even Barb that startled Harry in its intensity before he set about the business of taking and filling orders for the hungry crowd.

Disappointment washed over Harry that the blue-eyed man hadn’t returned this season but he shook it off and, instead, channelled positive thoughts as he had been practising with Dr. Juni. If Louis wasn’t to be his “one”, then it would be someone else, it was just a matter of who and when.

Harry smiled as he boxed up some of his perfect eclairs.

Chapter Text

Louis sat with the details needed for his meeting with Uriel in his lap. This wasn’t the first of such meetings but it was the most severe.

Louis raised his head at the sound of doors opening and walked the short way into the room beyond. Golden light filtered throughout the room from tall windows and reflected in dancing patterns on the white walls. It gave the overall sense of order, calm and beauty. All of which belied Louis’ purpose for being there.

“Louis.” Uriel spoke quietly. “It is good to see you again. Even under such circumstances. How is your work in Broken Hearts?”

Louis paused, considering his response before taking a deep breath and speaking his truth. “It’s very difficult, Uriel. There is so much pain. Sometimes I wonder why we don’t intervene more, it is certainly within our power to do so.”

“Within our power, yes. Within our right to do so, no. Humans have the ability and the resources to live happy, joyful lives, Louis, but they choose not to do so. For now. It must always be their choice whether they respond with anger or forgiveness, whether they are selfless or selfish. Every choice creates their reality. Our job is to gently guide when asked, it’s all we are able to do.”

Louis nodded curtly and looked down to the floor.

“Now, Louis, I believe you have something to show me.”

“Yes, one of the black ones. A living black heart.” Louis shuddered involuntarily as he held up his notes. “He has already murdered and will do so again, his heart holds no remorse nor empathy for his victims. His past has closed his heart and his mind to any kind of logic or human kindness. He is a predator and it’s only a matter of time before he ruins more lives.”

Louis finished his impassioned speech and looked up at Uriel who was returning his gaze with sadness etched on his features.

“Truly, that is beyond comprehension. I take it he has received dream intervention as a young man?”

“Yes, several times, but he twisted the dreams in his mind to make them confirm, to him, that he was doing the world a service by killing these women who reminded him of his abusive foster carer.”

“We will investigate his lifestyle, how he comes in contact with others and if we can warn others away from him. Thank-you, Louis, please know that, as hard as your work may be, it is vital and you are valued. What you see can have a huge impact on Earth, albeit indirectly. You are helping to make the Earth a better place, I hope you see that.”

Louis nodded stiffly, appreciative of the praise, before placing the information on the table in front of Uriel and taking his leave.

It was times like these that Louis missed the sense of community that humans have. On Earth, Louis was rarely alone. In his many visits he had been a family member, a friend, a lover, a team member, a colleague, a leader. Each different guise taught him more about humans and their priorities. They had such a strong desire for acceptance and belonging. They needed to feel like they had choices and they needed love. Without these things, their souls became warped and, often, that’s where trouble began.

There was always someone to talk to about what troubled your mind and Louis could really use that right now. Louis reflected on late-night drunken conversations, talking out of their arses about the meaning of life (and trying hard to sound as clueless as the rest of them). Of whispered words of love over pillows and of harsh, uncaring words said in anger. He had encountered all types in his journeys and the desire to go back, to immerse himself in that heady, impossible world, was like a thrumming in his veins.

Louis shook off his Earthly thoughts and made his way to his favourite meditation spot, getting comfortable on the soft grass. He could see other angels from his hilltop vantage point, all sitting calmly for their daily meditation.

Every angel has a preferred time for meditation, for Louis it was dusk. When the brilliant daylight goes through colours of peach to purple to the black of night. When the stars come out and the sky looks infinite. That’s when he feels closest to God and when he can fill himself with the Holy Spirit that gives him strength for another day.

Louis steadied his breathing and visualised the pure, white light of Heaven filling him, expunging all negativity and fear. He raised his palms in a gesture of acceptance and submission and sat in silence letting the Spirit fill him.

Louis returned to Broken Hearts with a renewed sense of purpose. What he was doing was vital and while he might never meet the people he is helping, that doesn’t make it any less important.

Several hearts had been weighed and classified and Louis was ready to take a break. It was infinitely fascinating and also frustrating that, when investigating each heart, he saw enough to determine why the heart was broken but never the whole story. Louis loved the stories of humans. Their childhoods, their loves, their careers, their friends, their babies, their sorrows.

Weighing hearts was like reading the blurb on the back of a book that only detailed the darkest parts of the story. Sometimes Louis wasn’t even sure of the gender or age of the heart owner, if it wasn’t relevant to the breaking of the heart.

Louis saw the story of the heart with all of the usual 5 senses and also his angelic sense. He could see flashes of events of course but more disturbing sometimes were the smells, the sounds. This full immersion often had Louis in tears of despair for the owner of the heart and, sometimes, full of fury or even fear. His angelic sense could feel if the heart owner ever had faith in God, if he/she had any residue of hope left. Sometimes that little spark COULD be resurrected, with the right treatment and Louis took his investigation VERY seriously in case he missed someone who could be returned to the light of God.

Sighing for perhaps the tenth time in as many minutes, Louis decided that this would be his last for the day. At first glance, this heart looked the same as any number of other broken hearts; blackened and hard. Louis readied his label before unscrewing the jar and reaching in to take the heart in hand.

This heart was a young heart, he could tell that the weight of years was not upon it. These hearts were the ones that made Louis saddest. What could have happened in this young life to break it so early? Louis breathed deeply, closed his eyes and saw.

Chapter Text

Harry certainly wasn’t expecting this …. And the tears sprung, involuntarily, to his eyes as he looked around. Everyone was here, crowded into Barb’s little bakery, wearing huge smiles …. And ridiculous party hats. He thought the Paynes might have planned a small birthday dinner for him in the evening but never in his wildest dreams did he expect his 18th birthday to be a surprise party with almost all the people he loved.

A small sob escaped from his mouth as Karen and Geoff embraced him, followed by Nic and Ruth. Penny was there too and Barb in the background looking like the cat that swallowed the canary.

Just as Harry finally got his breath back and finished hugging his tiny circle of loved ones, the familiar but sorely missed face of none other than Liam stepped out of the bakery’s back room. Harry teared up again before Liam reached him, hugging him tightly and whispering, “Hey, none of that, mate, it’s your birthday, we love you!”

Harry looked around with such gratitude. “Thank-you so much everyone for organising this, I honestly have never been more surprised or happier than this moment!”

“You can thank Barb for putting all of this together, Harry, she even paid for my train ticket back home!” exclaimed Liam.

Harry walked over to Barb and buried himself in her motherly embrace, his tears wetting the shoulder of her flowery frock.

“There, there little one.” she cooed. “We love you so much, Harry, do you know that? Everyone here is so proud of you, of the young man you’ve become. You’re so brave and strong, my love.”

“I’m not very strong….” Harry allowed himself to hiccup. “I’ve messed up a lot of things….”

“Ah, no, my darling. You’ve taken everything you’ve been given, good AND bad, and turned it into a beautiful cake. I’m so glad you walked into my bakery that day and I can’t wait to hand it over to you one day when I retire.”

Harry stepped back to look at her with enormous, watery eyes. Barbara nodded.

“Yes my sweet, you know that my family live in London and aren’t at all interested in running a bakery in a tiny town that makes hardly enough money to survive. When I retire, this is yours to run, if you wish.”

The Paynes surrounded Harry and hugged him, ruffled his hair and offered congratulations. Harry could see Geoff pull Karen aside and wipe her tears with his handkerchief. They all looked so proud and Harry felt like his heart had honestly grown too big for his chest.

“Here’s to Harry!” Liam called out. “One of the strongest and best blokes I’ve ever known! Harry, you and me got a whole lot of history mate, and we won’t ever let it go, will we?”

Harry shook his head tearily as he looked around the small gathering who had all raised their glasses and cheered out, “TO HARRY!”

Harry felt like he was cycling on air as he returned to work 2 days later. Barbara had insisted he take the weekend off to enjoy Liam’s company and the two had visited old haunts, some of Liam’s high school friends and, rather unexpectedly, Penny … SEVERAL times.

Harry smirked at the memory of the two of them looking shyly at each other in the movies before he asked Liam if they could switch seats because he couldn’t see over the person in front. It was a testament to how love-fogged Liam’s brain was that it didn’t register to him that Harry was actually the same height as him now. Harry chuckled as he saw the two sharing popcorn and little glances.

It warmed Harry’s heart no end to see people happy. He hummed along to the little snippet of a tune that he had woken up to this morning, “I don't care what people say when we're together, you know I want to be the one who holds you when you sleep, I just want it to be you and I forever, so come on baby be with me so happily”. The makings of a catchy chorus, he thinks to himself.
Liam had promised to bring Penny by later in the morning for tea and a pastry before he headed back to Uni and Harry was planning to make them a special heart-shaped croissant to make them blush.

All the lights in the bakery are on when Harry dismounts outside, which is a little unusual as Barb would normally leave front-of-house dark until opening time. Harry wheels his bike around to the back and pulls out his little key. The door is already unlocked. Frowning a little at Barb’s forgetfulness, he opens the door to the sound of ….. well, nothing. Normally he’d hear the sound of ovens warming, mixers beating eggs, but it was so still.

Unease washes over Harry.

“Hiiiii, Barb?” he calls. Nothing.

Harry makes his way into the kitchen but everything is dark and silent. Harry of course immediately worries that Barb might be ill and so makes his way up the internal stairs to her flat above the shop.

He knocks on the door and calls out for a few minutes before tentatively opening the door and going in.

“Barb! It’s just Harry! I was worried about you so I came up to check, you around?”

Harry walks quietly through the rooms towards where he knows Barb’s bedroom to be. Anxiety clawing at his stomach the entire time.

Scenarios were running through his head of what he would do if Barb is ill - call an ambulance of course, put a sign on the door explaining the shop’s closure for the day, call Barb’s son in London, store the bread dough that had been rising overnight…. No, maybe he should bake that bread so it doesn’t go to waste, Barb wouldn’t like to see it wasted……

And then he opens Barb’s bedroom door and his world becomes a whirling miasma of red. The overpowering, gut-wrenching sight and smell catapults Harry backwards like he’s been punched. He falls over the leg of a table and spews the contents of his stomach on the carpet.

He can’t breathe. He can’t think. He can’t process what he’s just seen.

He doesn’t know how long he has sat there before he crawls his way to the door and pulls himself up by the doorframe. Practically falling down the stairs, he makes his way to his bag and his phone.

“Bloody hell, mate, it’s fucking 5am!” Liam’s sleepy voice accuses. “What the fuck Harry? …… Harry? …….. Harry?”

“..... L-L-Liam ……” Harry gasps out, barely audible.

“What’s wrong Harry? What’s wrong? Where are you mate?” Liam sounding instantly alert and instantly concerned.

“Bakery…..” Harry chokes out. “Barb ……”

“Hang on mate, we’ll be right there, 5 minutes.”

Harry only experiences the following hours like flashes from a horrific nightmare. Sirens, shouting, being physically led from one place to another. Familiar and unfamiliar faces melting together like candle wax. Voices. Questions. Insisting he answer. But he has no answers.

All Harry has, is red. The colour washes over his eyes, the smell invades his nostrils, the heaviness settles in his heart.

He is vaguely aware that he is in hospital, that he is given medication that makes him sleepy and, my God, how he welcomes that dreamless sleep.

He wakes to questions. How is he? What does he remember? Can he think of anyone who might have done this? Where was he at the time of the murder?

Harry can’t answer a single question.

He is sometimes able to understand things, when the medications begins to wear off. He hears the terms “psychotic break” and “catatonic depression” but he doesn’t really understand the terms and he can’t bring himself to care.

The Paynes visit him, daily at first and talk to him and read to him. They talk about what’s happening in the village and with Liam at Uni. He understands, too, as time wears on, that Barb’s son, Oscar, had sold the bakery against Barb’s wishes. Although Barb had made her wishes clear to him, she apparently had not made them official in her Will. With no connection to the town or indeed to Harry, Oscar felt no responsibility to turn the bakery over to him.

Waves of sadness wash over Harry occasionally, when he remembers the red, when he remembers Barb and her grandmotherly kindness, when he remembers how he’s letting the Paynes down with every day that passes.
Gradually, visitors reduce their visits from daily to weekly. Dr. Juni’s visits have stopped. Harry vaguely recalls her introducing other doctors, explaining that they would be taking over his care. Apparently he needs a “team” nowadays and so he is sequestered at Redpath Clinic, a government-run facility not far from his hometown.

With every passing day, Harry’s failure to recover drives him further and further inside himself. Moments of lucidity lessen and he spends his days staring out the window until someone comes along to feed him, medicate him, bathe him, dress him.

The days are grey, lifeless and Harry’s heart has been broken for the last time.

Chapter Text

Louis’ hand shakes as he places the heart back in its jar. He wipes his hands before resting his elbows on the table and allowing the tears to flow freely. How can such hardship be visited upon ONE soul? An innocent young heart with a string of tragic events throughout a life, MOST of which had been endured and overcome.

Louis has such admiration for this soul. Louis knew that none of the angels in Heaven had ever or WOULD ever experience such agony. They would never be tested like this soul was. They were safe and secure in the knowledge and certainty that everything happens for a reason and that angels would never be called upon to wade through these depths of human emotions.

Louis balls up his fists against his eyes, trying to press out the scandalous fury that is threatening to overcome him. He’s angry. Angry at the human world, angry at those who hurt others and, yes, angry at God for letting it happen to innocent souls. A quiet wail leaves his lungs as he attempts to rein in the tears.

This bottle was going to have to wait till tomorrow to be labelled. Louis can barely think, let alone write a coherent description. He caps up the bottle before pushing it to the back of the desk and taking his leave for the day.

Louis wanders the corridors of Heaven aimlessly for a while, shell-shocked at what he had seen. That heart had affected him more than most. Was it the youth of the owner? The depth of the sorrow? Louis’ thoughts run rampant around his mind; all questions, no answers.

“Hey Lou!” A familiar voice breaks through Louis’ bitter reverie. He glances up at the smiling faces of Niall and Ed, sitting side-by-side strumming guitars.

“Lads…..” Louis responds and plonks down beside them.

“Mate?” questions Ed. “What’s up?”

“Bad day, Lou?” adds Niall.

“Yeah, just, you know. Sometimes in Broken Hearts I see hearts that have just been through SO much, you know?” Louis pauses and the other angels nodded sagely. “Some souls try so hard to overcome their challenges but it seems like more and more are thrown their way. I wonder, sometimes, how I would cope with it all myself! I don’t think I could….. I don’t think ANY of us could …….”

“That’s not our path, Louis.” says Niall softly. “You don’t have to take on the sadness of the human world. Our job is to watch, guide, strengthen. Don’t take it on board, it’ll send you round the bend!”

“I know…..” sighs Louis. “I just feel like we let some souls down. Souls that don’t deserve the horror they’ve lived and we do so little. We should be protecting them!”

“We do our best” sighs Ed. “We give them what we can; guidance and comfort. It hurts when we lose one.” He ends with a sigh as he and Niall share a sad look.

“Lou! Can we give you a dream? I mean, of course we don’t sleep but you can listen to it when you meditate next.”

“What is it?”

Niall shrugs. “Dunno yet, whatever it is will be just right for you, though.”

Louis looks at the gently encouraging faces, so filled with hope and love and nods his head. He closes his eyes and hears their angelic voices:

Days pass and heavenly life continues with its peace and regularity. Louis labels and stores many bottled hearts. All but one.

Once in a lifetime, it’s just right ….

Louis avoids contact with other angels, choosing to work and to meditate with a singular focus.

Right now, my heart is beating the same, out loud, someone's calling my name, It sounds like you

Louis looks at the unlabelled bottle on his desk, the heart inside pulling on him. “This is what longing is.” He thinks to himself. He reaches out to grab the bottle, label it, put it out of his mind. But he just can’t do it, not yet.

He uncaps the bottle slowly and cradles the blackened heart. He feels the souls’ story again but this time he’s reaching for more. He feels the happiness that this soul took in making others smile. He sees the gratitude on the faces of those who were the recipients of some kindness, some attention, some personal contact from this soul.
He hears the soul’s positive affirmations, trying to chase the inner demons away. He hears those same affirmations being shared with a young homeless girl who comes in for scraps one day. And he sees how this soul helped the girl find a place in a shelter and work amongst the local fruit pickers.

Not even the bad guys in the dark night could take it all away

“But they did, didn’t they?” he thinks as he gently returns the heart to its jar. “They did take it all away from you. You were so strong and someone took it all away from you.”

He rationalises that someone has to mourn the loss of this soul. This soul that should have brought such happiness to the world. What might he or she have become? A parent? A loving spouse? A volunteer? An artist? A painter of beauty that brings joy to everyone who views the work? But, instead, the world is missing out because Heaven has failed. HE has failed. He is the one who has seen this heart’s potential for good and he is doing nothing about it.

Louis throws his hands up and paces around the room, frustration and anger building with every step. It doesn’t make SENSE to have something so beautiful be broken and wasted. Who does it benefit? They HAVE the power to change someone’s life, MANY people’s lives, but they are held back. By what? Fear? Is it fear that stops Heaven from acting overtly in human lives? Fear that the elimination of sadness might eliminate the need for prayer? The need for GOD?

Louis is tormented with blasphemous, dark thoughts. Swirling around in his mind like angry bees.

“If only I was sure this soul could recover and would bring joy to the world ….. If I could be SURE …….”

He throws himself back down on his chair and reaches for the jar, promising himself that if there is NO sign in this blackened heart of any residual purity, of love, he would label it this minute and never give it another thought.

With shaking hands, he takes the heart for the last time.

Chapter Text

“Harry, honey, do you think you can walk today? Come on, love, let’s walk to the rec room, ok?”

Nurse Martha puts a gentle hand under Harry’s thin elbow and supports him as he stands.

“Well done, beautiful boy. Come on now, just a few steps for Martha ok?”

The two make their way shakily down to the rec room where Harry takes a seat by the window. Martha runs her hand over Harry’s long curls.

“Hmmm, do you think we should get this cut, my love?”

Harry’s brow creases a little in response, delighting Martha. Baby steps.

“Oh?” she says in a teasing tone. “Not fond of a haircut, eh? Alright then, pretty one, we’ll let you keep your lovely long locks if you look at Martha, ok? Come on, look up at me sweetheart.”

Harry uses all of his energy to draw his eyes into focus and drag them up to Martha’s chocolate brown face. His eyes settle on hers for a moment, noticing the smile of pure delight on her face before the red washes over him like a tsunami. It clouds his vision and obliterates her warm smile.

Harry scrunches his eyes against the horror of the red and tears spring quickly.

“There, there my love. You did so well. I’m so proud of you. You rest now, look at the garden Harry. It’ll be spring soon, chase all this nasty snow away!”

Harry opens his eyes bit-by-bit, exhaling his relief at the landscape of white. If everything is white, there’s no red.

Martha kisses Harry’s forehead before bustling off to attend to another patient. Harry is alone with his thoughts.

Harry is somewhat aware of his surroundings now. Those who know him well can tell he has good days and bad days. He is no longer a suicide or self-harm risk but the shell around him leaves very little space for human interaction. Which suits Harry just fine.

Visits from the Paynes honestly just hurts him more than it helps. Part of him wants so much to be cured, to be the Harry they want him to be. His failure to achieve even the smallest amount of independence over the past year makes him feel deeply ashamed and worthless and so he offers up very little on their visits, even when Liam brings Penny to show her engagement ring. Harry can sense the disappointment of his visitors but it’s for the best, he tells himself. Nothing good can come from getting close to Harry.

Wednesdays are art therapy days. Harry should love art therapy. He’d always had a leaning towards anything expressive. He DOES enjoy the pottery a lot but, all too often, the medium on offer is either paints or crayons and, try as he might, despite there being a rainbow of colours from which to choose, there’s always the red there, mocking him.

The therapists usually know to remove the red from in front of Harry. Usually. But not today apparently. Today there’s someone new taking the class, talking about “unwinding the chaos of our minds” through colour. He’s loud, the new therapist, and quite persistent. Clara, another of the residents, already has her hands over her ears, the noise too much for her.

Harry keeps his eyes on the carpet, his attention wavering in and out …….. Until …….. The box of crayons is placed down in front of him. And….. there are 6 different shades of red. SIX! There are a few other colours too, but most of the other shades have been removed, except for red.

Harry blinks a few times at the box, half expecting someone to realise the mistake has been made and remove the offending colours. No one comes. Harry chances a glance upwards to see if there’s anyone in the room he knows, but there is no one. He does, however, catch a tiny glimpse of the instructor, a small, distinguished man who begins to smile but Harry immediately looks back down again.

The other patients start their drawing, Harry can smell the wax crayons and hear them working. He reaches out to take a colour, willing himself to choose the dark blue, or the green. His hand shakes and he retreats, back to his lap. Again he tries, and again he fails, tears of frustration appearing.

He doesn’t hear the therapist walk up behind him until he says, “Just use the red, Harry. Make it all red. Every bit of it.”

Harry jolts with surprise as the therapist walks away. He reaches forward tentatively towards one of the red crayons.

With a shaking hand, Harry picks up a crimson red and draws a faint line across his page. He stares at it for a few seconds before making another mark, and then another, and another. He picks up a different shade of red, a light rose red, and makes long, looping lines all over the page. He picks a dark wine red and presses it so hard into the page that the end snaps off. He smears blood red over every visible white space on the page. Red coating his fingers, his hands, smearing his face.

He hadn’t even realised he was crying until he stopped, every square centimetre of white page obliterated. Some of the other residents had stopped and were staring at Harry, fascinated to see if there was an imminent breakdown. Harry breathed heavily as he sat staring at the mayhem on the page in front of him and surrounded by the carnage of broken crayons discarded on the floor. He balled his hands so he couldn’t see the stain of red and closed his eyes to will it all away.

Harry didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there before he began clawing his way back to consciousness. He first became aware of complete silence around him, indicating that he was alone. He slowly unfurled his clenched fists and took a deep breath to relax the muscles in his shoulders and arms. His eyes opened, at last, and he braced himself against seeing his art work again. But it wasn’t there. Harry opened his eyes all the way and raised his head a little to look around him.

Over in the corner, the new instructor was watching Harry with a soft smile. “Hey Harry,” the man said. “Welcome back.”

Harry’s only response was to return his gaze to his own lap but he could hear the instructor walk slowly over and sit down in front of him.

“You did so well, Harry, so well. I’m very proud of you. We’re going to get rid of all the red, you and I, and today you took a huge step.”

Harry’s breathing intensified at the man’s words and he took deep, gasping breaths in and out. The instructor gently placed his hands on Harry’s bony, shaking knees and pressed down firmly. Harry could feel the heat from his hands through his tracksuit pants and felt immediately calmed.

“Can I wipe your hands?” the instructor asked, holding out a wet wipe. Harry didn’t answer but relaxed his hands in his lap. The instructor gently picked up one of Harry’s large hands and wiped it slowly, removing every trace of red. When he was done, he squirted some soothing lotion into his palm before rubbing it all over Harry’s hands, massaging it firmly into the flesh of Harry’s palms and fingers. Harry felt all of his tension melting out of him as he smelled the slight citrus aroma of the cream. Mandarine, he thought absently, maybe some green apple?

Caught up in his thoughts and memories, Harry didn’t notice that the instructor had stopped his ministrations and was standing in front of Harry with an expectant look.

“Harry? Shall we go to your room now, mate?” he inquired.

Harry stood and the instructor steadied him before walking with him to his room. The instructor opened the door for Harry and waited until he was sitting comfortably on his bed.

“I’ll see you next week, Harry, ok? I really like working with you.”

Harry offered no response, but looked up at the man at his door through his lowered lashes, questions forming in his mind, like molasses,about this strange, softly spoken man. Harry took in the smile-lined face and the hair greying at the temples. Feelings of recognition flickered like fire at his consciousness but disappeared just as quickly.

“I’m Louis, by the way.” the man said, as though in answer, and then gently closed the door and left Harry alone with his thoughts.

Chapter Text

“Listen, Louis, I know you are eminently qualified,” Jan Stone, Director of Redpath Clinic, stated firmly. “But you ignored Martha’s advice about removing all the red crayons and I just want to let you know that we work as a TEAM here at Redpath and we EXPECT you to work with us closely!”

Louis nodded slowly, looking around at the others in the team meeting and startled slightly when he caught sight of his current appearance in a mirror. He thinks he achieved his purpose of looking like an “extensively experienced psychiatrist” extremely well.

“I’m very sorry everyone, especially you, Martha. I should have run my idea past you before putting it in place. Has Harry been ok since last week’s session?”

“He’s been more quiet than usual,” replied Martha. “Very focussed on his fingers, hard to get him to give me eye contact this week. You have to understand, Louis, we care about Harry very much. He has suffered some terrible trauma in his life and progress has been so, so slow, poor little darling.” Martha paused, obviously a little emotional.

Jan continued, “Yes, very slow but there HAS been progress and we owe it to Harry and his family to continue to do the best we can for him. We have limited resources at Redpath and we have to channel our funds to the cases that show the most potential for recovery. Harry is here through no fault of his own, he hasn’t committed any crimes and he has a loving family unit supporting him.”

Jan takes a deep breath before she continues. “However ….. I have been informed that Harry will only receive another 3 months of intensive care here in D-Ward and if there is no further progress, he will be moved to A-Ward where the main focus will be on medication and palliative care.”

The air is heavy with the implications for Harry and his future. People admitted to A-Ward didn’t recover. They weren’t released. They were given what they needed to survive, but not to live.

“That’s exactly why I did what I did. My therapy is designed to break through the barriers he has built up around himself. Harry’s particular barrier is “the red” as you’ve all documented so brilliantly in his case file. It is my intention to remove that red from his mind, piece by piece, through art.” Louis paused to look at the others in the case meeting sincerely.

“I assure you, I am VERY aware of his particular circumstances and, while I apologise for not discussing this first, I hope that you allow me to continue working with Harry on this.”

Jan and Martha shared a look which ended with a small nod from both parties.

“Keep in mind, Mr Tomlinson, we will be keeping a very close eye on Harry’s emotional state of being but ………yes, we will let you continue with your treatment. For now.”

Louis knew this wasn’t going to be a quick fix and he had determined to spend as much time in this timeline as necessary, but now he DID have a deadline. Three months. Three months to reach this sweet and innocent soul and bring him back to light of life and God’s love. Louis smiled slightly and glanced down at the case file in front of him, Harry’s face smiling back in a photo obviously taken in better times. Louis traced his finger down a line of flour that streaked Harry’s dimpled grin before closing the file and placing it at the bottom of the stack of files they were discussing that day.

Art class had already started the following Wednesday and Harry was nowhere to be seen. Louis noticed, of course, but he had his hands more than full with Fred, a patient who would only paint bananas, and Alex who had issues with tactile sensations and froze every time he got paint on his hands.

After 15 minutes, and 3 hand wipe downs for Alex, Harry and Martha came into the room.

Martha smiled apologetically at Louis. “Here we are my darling, it took us a little while to get here today, didn’t it?” she spoke softly to Harry but loud enough for Louis to hear. “We just needed to build up a little bravery today, didn’t we? But we’re here now, Mr Louis.”

Martha guided Harry to his easel and patted his shoulder kindly as she made her way out of the room. Louis saw Harry watch Martha through his lowered lashes and recognised that this was a sign of anxiety from Harry.

“Hi Harry, I’m Louis, remember me?” Louis sat on a stool in front of Harry with a tray of beautifully coloured crayons in front of him. Louis smiled as he saw Harry’s eyes flicker to the crayons and noticed his shoulders visibly relax. There were no reds today. Louis had, instead, included a range of shades in cool colours: greens, blues and purples.

“Harry, I want you to choose your favourite colours today. Ones you really love and draw whatever you like on your page. Cover the whole page with colour and drawings. Draw things that make you happy, draw people, draw animals, draw places. Things that make your heart smile.”

Louis paused to place the crayons down in front of Harry. “I’ll come back and check on you every now and again. You can do this, Harry.”

With that, Louis walked quietly away to admire Fred’s latest banana painting, leaving Harry to his task. For several minutes, Harry didn’t move and Louis was just starting to think that no progress would be made today when he saw Harry’s hand reach out for the palette of colours. Harry’s hand hovered back and forth over all of the colours before settling on one section.

It appeared to Louis that Harry was having a hard time deciding which colour to start with, so he went over.

“Hey Harry, is it a blue kind of day today, mate?”

Harry didn’t answer but Louis did note a small flush in Harry’s porcelain-white cheeks.

“You know, you can use as many of the blues as you want. You can start with one, and change it later.”

Harry’s hand moved a little on the crayons but he still didn’t pick one up. Louis could see the boy struggling to focus his attention and Louis put his hand encouragingly on Harry’s knee and rubbed softly but he didn’t want to hinder any part of Harry’s decision making by touching the colours.

A few quiet minutes pass and Louis noticed that Harry was now focussing his attention on Louis’ hand that was resting on his knee. Louis watched as Harry’s eyes started to move painstakingly slowly up Louis’ arm before finally making a connection with Louis’ eyes for a few seconds.

By God but this boy was beautiful, Louis thought. Louis could see Harry’s soul shining through his big green eyes and he offered Harry a small smile before Harry hastily lowered his eyes again to the palette before he shakily reached forward and chose a beautiful shade of sky blue.

It wasn’t long before Harry’s page was covered in swirls and curls of blues; areas of light and dark but an overwhelming sense of optimism in the boy’s light-handed approach.

Louis took a minute to just admire the little window into Harry’s pure soul and he knew, then, that Harry was reachable but it would take such a lot of work, and tears.

“That’s so lovely, Harry. Really good job, mate.” Louis spoke as he removed the page and dated it. “Next week we’re going to try some collage, up for it?” he continued with a smile, but not expecting an answer.

Louis continued collecting the other patient’s works and similarly dated them. “Nice banana, Freddy boy.” he smiled. “Lovely kittens there, Catherine, I feel like I could cuddle them!” Catherine giggled and the mood in the art room was very positive as the carers came to collect their charges.

Louis knew that next week would be quite the challenge for Harry and he steeled himself with resolve, hoping and praying it was what was best for the boy.

Later in the week, Louis knocks on Jan’s door, bracing himself for the difficult conversation he suspected this might be.

“Come in, Louis. Lovely to see you.”

“Good morning, Jan. I want to give you an outline of how I am going to progress with Harry’s treatment for the next month, if that’s ok? I know you wanted to be kept in the loop.”

Jan offered a small smile and nod as Louis continued.

“I have decided to take Harry on his own for a while, every second day if possible. I will still, of course, continue the weekly sessions with other patients but I want to give Harry my undivided attention for a while.”

“The plan I have for Harry will be quite emotionally and mentally jarring for him, at first.” Louis held his hands up as Jan began to object. “Please, hear me out. Harry has been through SUCH trauma that his version of “rock bottom” is lower than most …… and he hasn’t reached it yet.”

Louis smile ruefully at Jan’s genuine gasp of distress.

“I know, it seems unbelievable, but Harry’s mental scars have cocooned him, somewhat. He’s lost inside his own head, a maze of coping mechanisms built so tall to keep the evil out. Jan, I have to break through those walls. I am going to smash them to dust until all that is left is that boy, surrounded by the love of his family and friends.”

Jan’s eyes widened at the passion in Louis’ voice. She could tell that Louis was possibly a bit TOO invested in this case but anyone who had ever worked with Harry felt the same way. There was something about him that reminded you of a delicate, but wilting, flower and EVERYONE wanted to see that flower bloom again.

“Louis, I would say no to anyone else, but your decades of experience and qualifications in the area of PTSD are unsurpassed in our little government facility. While I am VERY nervous to break away from our usual treatments, I am even more nervous of losing Harry to A-ward.”

Louis nodded and offered a small smile before taking his leave and heading off to explain his plan to Harry’s nurse, Martha.

“I trust you, Dr. Louis, I do and I won’t stand in your way.” Martha’s passion made Louis smile. “But this boy has been through SO much and I’m not sure his little heart can take much more!”

“Oh I agree with you, Martha, believe me I do. I promise I will keep you in the loop every step and if things don’t look right, we’ll change strategy. Is that ok with you?” Louis could tell that Martha was being won over by his ideas and confidence but still had some doubts. Louis smiled as he imagined how beautiful and glowing HER heart must be, for her to be so caring.

Martha reached forward and squeezed Louis’ arm, giving eye contact that meant, “Look after Harry.” Louis nodded as be placed his hand over Martha’s and squeezed. He had every intention of doing exactly that.

Chapter Text

Harry was seated at his window, staring out at the melting snow, clutching his journal in his hands. He knows he used to write in his journal a lot - lines of poetry, observations, thoughts, dreams.

In his therapy sessions he’d been encouraged to read back over his thoughts and write more but, for the life of him, he can’t recognise that boy who wrote words of love and beauty.

Harry wishes he knew what inspired the words but he feels like he’s constantly walking through a mist with muted sounds, muted colours, muted people.

Sometimes there’s a gap in the mist and he can recognise people like Liam, Martha but, too quickly, the gap closes and he loses focus …. But not before seeing the disappointment on people’s faces.

He’s just so sick of being a burden, of disappointing. If he could just blink out of existence with no drama, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

A soft knock at the door interrupts Harry’s destructive thoughts. He doesn’t look away from the window but assumes it’s Martha. A soft hand squeezes his shoulder and he realises it’s the art therapist. But it’s not Wednesday, Art Therapy Day, so what is he doing here?

Harry drags his mind into focus as the therapist, Louis, starts to talk.

“Hey Harry, it’s lovely to see you today. I see you’re admiring the view, those fir trees are especially spectacular out there, aren’t they? So tall and strong and green in a landscape of white. Timeless really.”

Louis had a way of talking that was quite lyrical and his voice was soft and soothing but full of inflection and expression. Louis also talked to Harry as though he were having a conversation with a “normal” person, which was an interesting change.

“What do you have there, Harry? A journal? Do you think I could have a look at it please?”

Harry clutched the journal a little tighter, knuckles whitening. Despite not recognising the boy in that journal, he felt like it was the soul of him and he needed to protect it. Maybe one day he’d reconnect with that boy.

“That’s ok, love. You aren’t ready yet but I hope you soon will be. Harry we are going to do a special art project over the next few weeks, just you and me. It might be a bit tough at first but I’m hoping it will bring you back to this.” Louis tapped Harry’s journal as he spoke.

“Come on then, let’s get started!”

Harry allowed himself to be eased up and Louis supported his elbow as they made their way to the Rec Room. Harry sat at his usual easel and stared at the white paper. What was he sitting on? A swivel chair? This isn’t his usual chair. Harry squirmed a little at the unusual feeling but before he could consider moving to one of the usual chairs, Louis spoke.

“Ok Harry, I’m going to put something in front of you now and I want you to look at it.”

Harry drew his eyes into focus and gasped at the piece Louis had put there. It was the red that he had done last week. Red everywhere - dripping, scratching, searing, lacerating red.

Harry’s hands shook as he took in the angry lines, his eyes watered but he could STILL see the red. His breath started coming in short bursts, nostrils flaring like he couldn’t get enough air. A small whine came from God knows where. Where was Martha? She would never let this happen to him!

Harry could feel himself spiralling, his vision narrowing and his head swimming, he squinted his eyes against the sight of the red. He wanted to reach forward and tear it into pieces but his traitorous limbs were weaker than a kitten.

Just as he thought he was going to lose himself, he smelled something. Mandarin and green apple. He felt Louis take his shaking hands and massage the cream into them. His nostrils flared at the pleasant smell and he began to hear Louis’ voice breaking through the fog.

“Come back, Harry. Come on lad. Look up for me.”

Harry shook his head almost imperceptibly.

“You can do it, Harry, look up lovely.”
Louis’ voice was so soothing and, somehow, so trustworthy, that Harry slowly unscrunched his eyes and a different, larger, piece came into view. It was his blue one. Harry had called it “Heaven” in his mind. The intricate, sweeping patterns made him think of contrails from angel’s wings.

Harry let out a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding.

“That’s it Harry. Let the tension drop out of your shoulders, mate. Relax your hands. This is a lovely piece, innit? Those angels sure were busy that day!”

Harry’s eyes widened at Louis’ words. How had he known what he was trying to depict? Harry searched through his brain for the answer but was left feeling confused but a little pleased that someone saw it for what it was.

“Now Harry, you can probably feel that you are on a swivelling chair. I’ve moved you a little to face your beautiful blue art work. The red piece is to your left.”

Harry tensed at Louis’ words. What was he doing? Why was he trying to hurt him so? Tiny tears escaped Harry’s eyes at Louis’ betrayal.

“Now, now. Come on. I’m here and you are perfectly safe. Harry, we are going to get rid of the red, you and I. We’re going to let the angels defeat the red. YOU are going to defeat the red.”

Harry listened as Louis explained the project. He was going to carefully cut pieces from his “Angel” work and glue them OVER the red. Harry shook his head, nothing could cover the red, NOTHING.

Louis, however, was not taking no for an answer. He placed a pair of scissors in Harry’s hand and guided his arm towards the blue paper and there they stayed for what seemed like hours in Harry’s mind. All the while Louis was offering encouragement, commenting on the painting (apparently one particularly busy section of the piece reminded him of his mate Niall, whoever that was) and sometimes just talking about nothing. Harry found his voice very melodic and soothing.

If Harry’s arm was getting tired, Louis’ arm must be even more so. Harry honestly just needed to go take a nap. With the smallest of movements, he reached towards the paper with the scissors and started to snip off a corner of the piece. Louis held the section as Harry finished cutting and then gently removed the scissors from Harry’s still-trembling hand.

“Well done, love, well done. Now comes the hard part. I’m going to swivel you back to the red piece.” Louis put his hand on Harry’s shoulder as he said this, gripping quite firmly as he predicted, accurately, the tension rising in Harry.

“It’s ok, Harry, I’m right here. This is the beginning of the end for the red, I promise. Soon you will be free.”

With Louis’ guidance, Harry took the section of his blue art and glued it over a section of the red. There it was, a small section of peace surrounded by an ocean of red, angry, murderous lines.

“That’s me.” Harry thought. “I’m drowning in this chaos. It’s suffocating me and killing me.” Is this what Louis wanted him to see? That he was doomed to always be surrounded by red? That he would never escape it? The thought gave him a flash of anger and he jerked his eyes up at Louis’.

To his credit, Louis only looked surprised for a second before a tiny smile quirked his lips.

“That got a reaction out of you, Curly. Harry, I know this is hard but please trust me. We can do this, together. You aren’t alone, there are so many people who love you and care for you. This is just the start of the blue defeating the red.”

With that, Louis turned Harry once again back to the blue page and handed him the scissors. Harry could barely see the point of this exercise but didn’t have it in him to argue. He cut another section out before Louis returned him to the red page.

“Glue it wherever you like, Harry. “As you glue it down, I want you to visualise someone who has helped you a lot. Someone who you know loves you, someone you can rely on.”

Harry paused as he considered. He took the glue and placed the piece.

“Martha.”