Chapter Text
Louis walked out of the theater laughing with a group of his high-society friends. Well, maybe "friends" wasn't the accurate word to use. These are just some people he would spend some time with depending on the activity he wanted to pursue, in this instance, watching a touring stage performance of A Midsummer Night's Dream in the posh Carlton City Theater. When he's feeling like he's into playing a good round of polo, this bunch would not be his companions at all.
It was mid-November and the air is painfully cold. When the wind blows, it was like a thousand needles pricking through your bare skin. Louis had just pulled on his gloves, peering up and down the street, looking for the black Chrysler he had gotten out of on that same spot some four hours earlier. The men and women he was with were chatting now about some new production showing next month--A Christmas Carol.
"Oh, surely we must see it!" And instantly, thin fingers covered in white leather gloves were holding onto his arm. He turned to the beautiful blonde woman whose made it her mission to stay by his side the entire night. Her already-blushed cheeks were pinked even more by the cold weather; her lips perfectly red from the long-lasting lipstick she wore. Louis instantly had a vision of her kneeling in front of him, his manhood inside such lovely mouth.
He smiled at her innocently, no trace of the dirty thoughts clouding his mind visible. "Of course, we must. I should think it a crime not to."
The woman's eyes brightened, like Louis' approval of her suggestion was the greatest compliment she's ever received in her life. Unlikely, he thought, since this woman was heiress to a chain of luxury hotels all over the world; people have groveled at her feet and spoke the most beautiful words to gain her attention. But then again, Louis is not just another person.
From a distance, he saw his car making way to where his group stood waiting for their own chauffered vehicles to take them out of the cold. Louis gently peeled himself away from the woman and inched towards the curb. Suddenly, he felt a body flung itself on him. If he wasn't working out regularly, he would've fallen on the ground at the sudden impact. He heard a chorus of outraged gasps before he smelled utter foulness.
Louis turned to the man who already had his practically lifeless arms clinging desperately on him and instinctively steadied him on his feet. He was a few inches taller than him but rather light, and filthy--extremely filthy. His tangled hair caked in mud, his skin darkened by dirt, he smelled absolutely rancid, but his eyes glistened against the light from the nearest lamppost. They were a beautiful shade of green.
"Please, kind sir," the man whispered, his voice rough and tired.
"Oh my goodness! Won't somebody get this thing away from Louis?" One of the other women in his group exclaimed from somewhere behind him.
"Guards!" He heard one of the men call out. Immediately, the hobo (really, there's no more appropriate term for him) was lifted off of his body. He stood silently as two guards from the theater pulled the man roughly away.
"Oh Louis, look at what he's done to your coat," the blonde woman from earlier complained. She didn't touch him though, afraid that the dirt would rub off on her own pristine clothing.
"I-it's quite alright, really," he managed to say, sparing her a glance. But he immediately returned to the hobo, who has now a good couple of arms length away from him, still being roughly dragged by the guards to distance him from their contingent.
It was pitiful how the hobo wasn't even putting up a fight; he simply allowed the hands on his body to move him to wherever. He lifted his head suddenly and caught Louis' eyes. Something tugged in Louis' heartstrings then at the sight of such lovely green eyes drowning in tears, ready to spill any moment now.
"Wait!" Silence fell among them and the guards stopped. "Wait," Louis said again as he walked towards the hobo. "A-are you okay?" he asked him gently.
"I--" the other began but never got to continue, as he unceremoniously fainted and his body fell upon Louis again. Gasps echoed all around once more. The guards quickly grabbed the hobo's body and forcefully pulled him off of Louis.
"I-it's alright. Careful now," he told the guards.
"Master Louis."
Louis turned to the voice. "Paul, thank god! Come help me put this man in the car."
The chauffer, some ten years older than Louis and who doubled as a bodyguard, immediately made way to where his employer stood, without question.
"Louis! Are you mad?" said one of the men in his group, who obviously found Louis' orders extremely scandalous. "You won't be able to take the stench out of the leather seats."
Louis chuckled. "It's fine, Henry. I can always buy a new car, can't I?"
The others, thankfully, laughed at his quip.
"But where are you taking him?" asked one of the women.
"He's burning up," Louis began as he went back to the group, watching as Paul and the guards carefully laid him down on the backseat. "The poor thing must have a horrid fever. It might be best to bring him to the hospital rather than leave him on the streets."
"You truly are a good man, Mr. Tomlinson," said one of the men.
Louis laughed. "I try, Mr. Lucas."
Once he's settled on the passenger seat, Paul asked, "To Carlton General, sir?"
Louis turned to the limp body sprawled on his backseat. Underneath all that filth, he can clearly see something beautiful, something innocent. It was inexplicable, that sense of responsibility; that feeling that he can't simply discard this person, that he must take care of him. Looking back to his chauffer, he decided, "no, Paul, let's bring him home and call Dr. Cowell instead."
Paul nodded. "Very good, sir."
---
"Master Louis, what on earth--?"
"Alfred, please. Help us bring this man to one of the guest rooms."
Quickly, Alfred took Louis' place in holding the still unconscious man. His face contorted at the smell but said nothing. He and Paul steadily brought him up the steps of the Manor's entrance. Alfred was old, somewhere in his sixties, but he was still quite strong and healthy, so carrying a young man up the stairs wasn't all too tedious for him.
Louis pulled wide open the door to allow them to bring in the stranger.
One of the maids came into the foyer just then. "Good evening, Mas--" she chirped, but was cut off at the sight before her.
"Hi Eleanor," Louis greeted warmly. He considers her one of the few he dare call a friend. In fact, she's more of a sister than anything else. Well, sort of, but not really. They grew up together, after all. He'd told her plenty of times not to call him Master, but she still did; but only when her father was around.
"Child, tell Mrs. Cole to meet us at the guestroom in the east wing. Then you proceed there as well to run a bath for this fellow."
Eleanor stared at the filthy thing being dragged into the Manor, looking quite confused at the situation.
"Eleanor!" Alfred exclaimed.
She snapped out of her reverie and turned to the old man.
"Did you hear what I said? Mrs. Cole. To the east wing. Now!"
"Y-yes, father." And she quickly pattered away.
Louis followed behind Alfred and Paul as they made way to the east wing. "Uh, shall I call Dr. Cowell?" he asked.
"I doubt you know his number, Master Louis."
Louis rolled his eyes. Alfred had a point. Boy, for a butler, this one sure is sassy.
Once they got to the guestroom, Mrs. Cole and four maids, including Eleanor, were already waiting for them. "Oh my goodness! What happened to him?" asked Mrs. Cole as soon as she saw them.
"He fainted," Louis said simply.
"El, make a phonecall to Dr. Cowell and tell him he is needed right away." Alfred ordered.
Eleanor nodded and hastily left the room.
They brought the man straight to the bathroom where it was already misty from the hot water running in the tub.
"Do you need my help, Mrs. Cole?" Paul asked.
She nodded. "Yes, dear. We won't be able to carry this young man in and out the tub by ourselves. What in the world did you do, Master Louis?"
He looked at her, indignant. "What? What makes you think I did anything?"
"Well, why would you bring this man here if you didn't do anything to him?"
"I did nothing to him!" Louis emphasized, slightly affronted at being accused, crossing his arms for full effect.
She sighed. "I didn't mean to offend, Master Louis. I was merely inquiring."
Louis huffed. "He is sick. I felt sorry for him."
Mrs. Cole nodded solemnly. "Of course. Now, please wait outside. It might take awhile to get him cleaned." Her nose scrunched as she said that last part.
Louis watched as the door to the bathroom closed in front of him.
"Come now, Master Louis. You should probably take a bath yourself."
He turned to Alfred and nodded, quietly going to his own bedroom.
After a quick shower, he exited his own bathroom and was greeted by Eleanor sitting on the edge of his bed, flipping through the channels on his television.
"So, where'd you find him?" she asked, not really bothering to look away from the screen.
"He kind of bumped into me outside the theater," he explained as he pulled out a pair of boxer shorts from one of the drawers, putting it on carefully so as not to make the towel unravel from his waist. "He looked quite sick."
"He is sick! He's burning up. And, boy, is he filthy. He's gross! I feel dirty breathing the same air as him."
Louis laughed. For a maid, Eleanor can sure be a snob at times.
"He's cute though," she added.
His eyebrows shot up. "Cute?"
She turned to him and flashed an obnoxious grin. "Very cute! Once he's clean, that is."
"Oh, they've finished with him, then?"
She nodded. "He still hasn't woken up though. He's laying on the bed. I just opened the door for Dr. Cowell some minutes ago."
"Well, come on, then," he said as he was pulling a cotton shirt down his torso. "Let's go see what's wrong with him."
---
The room was dim when Louis and Eleanor entered the open door, the only light coming from the lamp on the desk beside the bed. Alfred was standing on one side of the bed, his back to the door and covering the face of the man on the bed. Dr. Cowell was hunched over on the other side, stethoscope in his ear, with the other end prodding on the chest of his patient. The older men turned to them as came closer to the bed.
"Good evening, Master Louis," Dr. Cowell greeted as he straightened his back.
"Good evening, Dr. Cowell. Thank you for coming on such short notice."
"Of course, sir."
"Will he be alright?" At this point, he was already beside Alfred and finally saw the man's face, which slightly surprised him. This was no man after all. This was a boy. He was, by all means, bigger than Louis in height, but his clean face, in the middle of peaceful slumber, is undoubtedly that of a boy's.
Dr. Cowell nodded. "His fever is very high, but it's nothing to worry about for now. I've called on my assistant to bring an IV over, so we can administer it to this young man here."
Louis smiled and thanked him. He turned back to the sleeping boy on the bed. He knew it; he knew there was something lovely underneath all that grime. The smooth white skin, the full red lips, the naturally curly hair. This boy was breathtaking. Louis longed to see those green eyes again, though. He hoped that the next time he does, they would be brighter and less lonely.
---
Harry woke up to a weird feeling--he was comfortable. He could barely remember the last time he had woken up comfortable, so he was baffled at the feel of something soft underneath him. When he dared open his eyes, he found himself in a strange place--a bedroom. He had gotten so used to waking up to the angry glare of the sun's rays that not being assaulted by it seemed confusing to him.
He didn't want to move for fear that he might be dreaming and stirring about will wake him up to the reality he's known for some couple of years now. If this was a dream, it was a very good dream.
He scanned his eyes without moving his head. As far as he could make out, the dimness was caused by heavy curtains that were pulled in close. There was a large stuffed chair on one corner, with a table and a lamp next to it. Right in front of him, on the wall at the foot of the bed, was a flat screen TV and a fireplace at the rectangular peg underneath it. When he looked up, he saw hundreds of crystals hovering over him.
"Oh, you're awake," he heard someone say. It was a girl's voice.
He turned to where the sound came and saw a slender girl with long brown curly hair walking closer to him.
"Hello," she greeted warmly, bending over him slightly. "How are you feeling?"
"I--" he stopped, surprised at how hoarse he sounded.
"You've been asleep for many hours now. Your throat must be really dry. Here," she said, grabbing a glass of water from the table beside his bed. "Sit up and drink a little."
Harry pushed himself up, but immediately fell back groaning as a stinging pain hit him in his right hand.
"Oh dear! Careful now," she said with concern. "Dr. Cowell hooked an IV on you because you were completely passed out. We didn't know when you were going to wake up."
She instructed Harry to carefully lift his head up a little as she tilted the rim of the glass to his lips and let him drink. He gulped the water greedily. He felt like he'd been on the desert for the longest time. When he emptied the glass, he let his head fall back on the pillow.
"W-where am I?" he managed to ask.
"You're at Tomlinson Manor. Do you not remember what happened?"
He shook his head.
"You were very sick. Louis found you and brought you here."
"L-louis...?"
She nodded. "He's the master of this house. What is your name, then?"
"Ha-harry."
"It's very nice to meet you, Harry. I'm Eleanor. I'm sure you're very hungry. I'll have someone bring up some food here for you. Don't go moving about too much, you hear? I'll call Dr. Cowell and tell him you've woken up."
Harry watched her walk to the other side of the room. He panicked a little when he thought that she was going to pull the curtains open, but she didn't. Instead, she picked up something from the study table and walked back to him.
"Here you go, Harry. You can watch TV while you wait for your food."
As soon as he took the remote control from her, she was already leaving the room.
He didn't notice it before but when he looked at the remote control on his hand again, he saw white skin wrapped around the device. His own skin--clean and white. He brought his hand closer to his eyes just to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. And then he smelled a hint of something fruity on his skin. It smelled so good that he couldn't stop himself from running his nose against his arm.
He was clean. And he smelled like fruits.
He didn't know if he wanted to laugh or to cry, because he hadn't felt this good for a long time now. And he had... Louis... Eleanor said his name was Louis... He had Louis to thank for this.
---
Some hours later, he was introduced to an old man named Albert, the bulter; who in turn introduced him to Dr. Cowell. The doctor checked his temperature, heart beat, and blood pressure, before declaring that the IV was no longer needed. Dr. Cowell told him to drink plenty of fluids and not to strain himself too much. He nodded. But then he watched as Dr. Cowell spoke to Albert, giving him more instructions.
Some minutes after both men left the room, Eleanor entered again, a warm smile on her face.
"So, I heard you're getting better."
Harry smiled shyly. "I suppose so. I feel better, if that's anything to get by."
She nodded. "That's good. You should keep to that and pretty soon you can go outside!"
He couldn't help it when his face fell. He dipped his head to try and hide his sadness. He didn't want to leave; he had no place to go.
"Oh no, Harry," Eleanor said, obviously catching the sudden change in his demeanor. She sat on the bed, next to him, before she continued. "I didn't mean for you to go and leave. I just meant that you should go and walk about outside. It's a big estate, you know. There are fields and gardens here. There's a lake too! And you can even ride one of the horses. Would you like that?"
He lifted his head a little to look at her from underneath his lashes, the corner of his lips curved up to a timid smile. "I don't know how."
Eleanor grinned wide. "Niall will teach you! He takes care of the horses and he's very good with them. My favorite is Taylor; she's nice and gentle. I bet you'll like her too."
He's only ever seen a real live horse once in his life, during the city's founder's day parade some years ago. That was the last time the parade had horses, though. Every year he would wait patiently to see horses at the parade, but there was never one again. There were only motorcades and floats and dancers. No horses. The prospect of seeing one again made him excited, and even more so at the idea that he could actually mount one.
But he had to ask, "M-maybe Louis might get angry if I ride one of his horses?"
"What? Louis?" she exclaimed, as if it was the most ridiculous thing in the world to say. "Of course not! He lets me ride his horses; and I'm the maid."
"But I'm--"
"A guest, Harry. You are a guest in this house." There was a firmness in the way Eleanor said it. Like it was imperative for him to understand.
And Harry couldn't help but blush.
He wanted to ask her where Louis was and if he was ever going to meet him, but she was already standing up and telling him that she had a lot of things to do before dinner, so she had to leave. He could only nod and watch her leave him again to his lonesome, with only the television keeping him company.
---
The next day, he was certain he was feeling much stronger and healthier. For one, he was able to go to the bathroom without wobbling or clutching at the nearest furniture to save him from falling flat on his face. He even went to the windows and pulled the curtains apart himself. It was the first time he saw what was on the other side, and what he saw then took his breath away.
Right below him was a large lawn with scattered flower beds; there were also benches and fountains strategically placed on the expanse. Beyond that was a stretch of green grass that ended with what he figured was the lake that Eleanor mentioned. The autumn clouds covered the sun a bit, but they didn't make the scenery any less beautiful.
He turned to the wall clock above the doorway to the bathroom. It was only fifteen minutes past seven. He wasn't sure if this was too early for people in the Manor to be awake, but his stomach was already growling and didn't think he could wait any longer for Eleanor to come to his room. So, he braved to open his door and find his way to the kitchens.
The Manor was big, he figured as much. But he didn't realize that it would be like a maze. There was some sort of room at every turn--one with a large screen and cushioned chairs that had cupholders on it, one with five televisions with five different gaming consoles and more cushioned chairs that had cupholders on it, one with shelves upon shelves of books and some more cushioned chairs that had cupholders on it--until finally he got to a large staircase.
The ground floor was just as confusing of a maze as the one he just got out from. The doorways brought him from one room to the next that was oddly similar to each other (all of them had sofas and coffee tables and regular tables and chairs). The only thing he noticed that made a difference in each room was that one had a television, the other a piano, and the other a fireplace. He got a bit more confident when he found the dining hall; this meant that he was getting closer to the kitchen.
It was a busy kitchen, he realized as soon as he entered it. He stood at the entrance for awhile, not sure who to address, or if he should even address anyone at all since he might be interrupting them.
"Can I help you, child?"
He turned to a shapely woman, whose brown hair with streaks of gray was tied neatly to a bun. "I was just--" Harry wanted food but he felt shy asking a stranger. He made a quick scan of the room to see if maybe Eleanor was there, but before he could get from one side of the room to the other, he was interrupted by the woman in front of him.
"Master Harry, I didn't realize it was you. You're looking much better than the last time I saw you."
Harry was bewildered for two reasons: one, this woman just called him "master" which will never make sense in any universe; two, while he has absolutely no idea who this woman could be, she seems to know him quite well.
She laughed. "You won't remember me, being that you were completely unconscious when we met. They call me Mrs. Cole around here, young one. You may do the same."
He nodded.
"Now don't get me wrong, I'm glad you're feeling much better today, but you can't be in here. This is a busy place and certainly not for a house guest such as yourself."
"'m sorry," Harry mumbled.
Mrs. Cole nodded and started to shoo Harry away. But as Harry was turning, wiry fingers suddenly wrapped around his arm and turned him back around.
"You were looking to get some breakfast, I reckon?"
Harry nodded.
Mrs. Cole offered him a friendly smile and let go of his arm to rub at his back. "Go sit in the dining hall and I'll have the maids bring you something to break your fast, then."
Harry did as he was told without another word. Although truth be told, he was this close to asking if he could have one of the buns that he saw being pulled out of the oven. He was extremely famished and the sight and smell of food made his mouth water and his stomach groan. But he was intimidated by Mrs. Cole, and he didn't think it would be a good strategy to not be in the good graces of the elderly woman.
As Harry waited for food to arrive, he took in every piece of detail in the dining hall. The walls were lined cream with accents of a gold emblem, which if he stared long enough seems to make up the letters T and M intertwined. The ceiling had three large crystal chandeliers firmly hanging from it, the middle one larger than the others. The seats were all cushioned in red velvet, as well as the backs, plain except for the single golden emblem perched on the topmost part of the splat.
The long table was made of mahogany and was obviously very sturdy. But it seemed very old; like it had been there for years, generations even. He figured that it must have been host to so many feasts and witnessed so many different kinds of people--rich, beautiful people, he was certain. He suddenly felt very out-of-place. He shouldn't be eating there, he thought. The table was much too lovely for the likes of him.
He was contemplating on standing up and going back to the kitchen to eat with the servants he saw from the corner of his eye earlier, when the swinging door that connected the dining hall to the kitchen burst open. Out came two women; one carrying two wicker baskets filled with different kinds of bread, the other carrying a platter of various cheeses. As they settled the food in front of him, two more women came in with more plates of food. Soon, there was a spread in front of Harry consisting of ham and sausages, baked beans and roasted potatoes, fresh fruits and juices. He's never seen so much food in his life, and really, he was torn between crying at how beautiful it all was and ravaging all of it as quickly and as much as he could.
As soon as the last of the servers have gone from the room, Mrs. Cole entered. "Well, go on then! Why haven't you any food on your plate yet?"
Harry was quiet. Unsure. To which Mrs. Cole must have sensed easily.
"Is something the matter, sweetheart?"
He smiled at her shyly. "I was just... I was wondering if, um..."
A fond smile crept to her lips. "Do you wish to see Master Louis?"
He nodded. "I want to thank him. For being so kind to me."
"You shall get your chance. But not today, I'm afraid."
"Oh," he said, shoulders falling, disappointment clear on his face. But then quickly, Harry straightened his back and looked up hopefully to Mrs. Cole. "Can I see Eleanor?"
"Missed me already?" said a voice, coming from the far end of the room. They both turn to see Eleanor tying her lap apron on the back of her maid's uniform, grinning cheekily.
Harry's face lit up upon seeing a familiar face, but Mrs. Cole's sported the exact opposite.
"You are extremely late, young lady!" she said sternly. "Do you know what time it is?"
"Not my fault, is it? If Louis hadn't slept late, we'd have left early for the airport and I've had gotten back on time."
Mrs. Cole rolled her eyes. "If your father heard you calling--"
"Master Louis. Jeez. Sorry!" Eleanor turned to Harry, all smiley again. "You're looking good."
"Thanks," he said beaming. "You too."
"Come along, El. Let's leave Master Harry to his meal."
Eleanor gave him a soft pat on the head when Mrs. Cole wasn't looking as she quietly followed the elder woman towards the kitchen. Harry, though, was feeling quite vulnerable and overwhelmed that he most certainly didn't feel like being left alone.
"But, um, excuse me ma'am?" Both women halted and turned to look at him. "Would it be alright if... If maybe Eleanor would accompany me for breakfast today?"
Eleanor grinned at him and then at Mrs. Cole who already had one brow raised high up her forehead. For a moment, Harry was worried that she would say no, but thankfully she agreed. "Very well. But we leave for the supermarket at ten. I trust you would have Master Harry settled by then."
Eleanor nodded cheerfully. "I'll bring him to Niall. Or Liam."
Mrs. Cole was thoughtful for a moment and then, "bring him to Liam first. Definitely, Liam first." She turned to Harry again, bid him a good morning, and left the dining hall.
"Well, eat!" Eleanor exclaimed as she sat on the chair next to Harry. "I am not serving you food, if that's what you're waiting for."
Harry vehemently shook his head. "N-no. Of-of course not." He quickly grabbed a slice of bread and bit almost half of it.
Eleanor giggled. "Take it easy. I don't mean for you to choke. You have to relax a little, Harry."
Harry did. He's only known Eleanor less than two days and he's already at ease with her. She was nice. Quite assuming, but it's actually endearing. She treats him like a friend, and he's never had a friend. Not that he remembers.
"Master Louis went to the airport? Where to?"
She looked at him, amused. "Don't call him that. You're not required to call him that."
"But everyone else seems to."
"Yes. But everyone here is working for him. You don't."
"Yeah, about that. You think perhaps he would give me a job in the Manor? I-I'll do anything."
She smiled questioningly at him. "Why would you want that? You're a guest here Harry."
He was about to put a spoonful of baked beans in his mouth, but paused and placed it back on his plate instead. He dipped his head and gave her a small nod. "But if I'm a guest here, it means I'll have to leave sooner or later. And I don't have anywhere else to go."
The silence seemed to stretch between them for minutes before he braved to look at her. She was smiling but he can see that there was that underlying pity beneath it.
"I'm sure Louis will find a place for you here."