Archive of Our Own

The veil of ignorance falls away,

As I delve into the unknown,

And I feel the universe embrace me,

As I make its secrets my own.

In this moment of clarity,

I find a peace that's sublime,

As my soul reaches out to touch,

The infinite expanse of time.

And I know that from this moment on,

I'll walk a different path,

With my heart and my spirit aligned,

In this spiritual aftermath.

----

The way Matthew settles in should have made it clear from the beginning that he’s not planning to stay. 

He doesn’t unpack, doesn’t immerse himself into the activities the way Harry did. He doesn’t interact with other people. He talks to Louis once, briefly, then turns the rest of his attention onto Harry. 

They’re sat together in the gathering hall when Harry realizes that this is temporary in the way his hadn’t been. He’d fully unpacked. Devoted himself to living the life of the people. He’d told himself it was to investigate. To learn the way of the people. 

But the more he thinks about it, the more he knows that never was the case. He can sense Matthews unease. Can feel the way he’s nervous when he interacts with him. He doesn’t remember feeling nervous. He only remembers the burning curiosity and the drive to learn more. 

“Do you remember when we’d ditch class to hike the flatirons?” Harry hands Matthew his mug of coffee as he takes his spot across from him in the otherwise empty gathering hall. 

“Obviously,” He smiles, “Why?”

“I was just thinking about it the other day. How free it always felt to get away from everything and just be with our friends. No commitments, no worries.” 

“Except when Steve remembered he had that exam due at noon and had to sprint down the mountain to get to it.” The memory bursts a bubble of laughter out of Harry. “I don’t know if I’d like feeling like that all the time. I feel like… It was nice having it in small doses. If I felt like I never had any responsibilities I think life would get boring.” 

Harry shrugs. “I guess. I don’t feel bored, though.” 

“So, define a cult for me.” 

“Well,” Harry starts. He hesitates. Louis would never hesitate. “Anything can be a cult if you try and fit it into a box. Like the Sigma Phi boys we used to make fun of.” That sneaks a laugh out of Matthew. “Besides, isn’t one of the hallmarks of a cult, like… secrecy? I’m more than happy to show you around, answer your questions…” It’s almost an exact replica of the line Louis gave him when he asked the same question. It still feels true. 

It seems to put him at ease much the same. 

Matthew fixes him with a look that Harry can’t read. “Why did Louis want you to be the one to show me around instead of him? Your article said that he was a very willing tour guide for you, when you showed up.” 

“He said he thought you’d feel more comfortable around a familiar face. But I’m sure he’d be more than happy to take my place, if you prefer.” 

“How long did it take before he started courting you?” Harry frowns. He suddenly feels like he’s being interrogated instead of having a friendly conversation. 

“He didn’t. I did. He was very professional.” 

“How did you guys end up mating, anyway?”

“Well…” He trails off, smiling at the memory. “I’d been dropping hints a lot. I must have made an absolute fool of myself. I fell asleep on his couch, and he didn’t even try to make a move. Honestly, I was starting to think he wasn’t interested. Just made me tea, didn’t touch me. Let me sleep there.” Matthew’s face softens. “He let me borrow some of his clothes. And I think it triggered my heat. It’s been a long time since I’ve been so close to an alpha before him.”

“So he just bonded you in your heat without permission? Without talking about it before?”

Harry blinks. No, it wasn’t like that. “No. He caught me when I was still lucid. I remember talking about it. He made sure to ask my permission. Only when I said yes did he so much as kiss me.” 

“Well. That’s actually quite sweet.” 

Harry smiles. “Yeah. I thought so, too.” 

“I’m gonna get some writing done and maybe talk to some other people. I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

Harry doesn’t comment on the fact that it’s just barely mid-day, but he nods. “Yeah. I’ll be around if you can think of anything else.” 

He sees Maxwell on his walk home and he smiles politely at Harry. The alpha doesn’t say a word. He makes a barely there moment of eye contact and then keeps walking, not looking at Harry again. 

Harry hurries past him and shakes the unease from his mind as he walks up the stairs and back home. 

Louis is sitting at the kitchen island when he walks in, scribbling away in his journal. He looks up with a smile as Harry walks in. “Hello, darling. Is everything alright? I didn’t expect you back so soon.” 

“Matt decided to go back to his room. He said he wanted to do some writing.” Louis comes to him, puts his hands on his hips and kisses him. Slow and sweet. Harry melts into it. He could stay in these moments forever, just him and Louis, where nothing else matters. “I love you. I missed you.” 

“I love you, omega. I was actually thinking of a way I could reward you for all your hard work lately.” 

“Really?” He smiles, biting his lip. “Like what?” 

“A night all about you. Making you feel good. Doesn’t that sound nice?” 

He nods, a small smile on his face. Louis is slow in undressing him, hands slow and gentle over his sides, his thighs. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Absolutely stunning.” 

Harry’s face burns red. “Kneel for me, sweetheart.” 

Harry drops to his knees just beside Louis. 

Louis wraps the silk fabric of one of his scarves around Harry’s wrists. “Tug on those for me, baby. See if it comes loose.” He gives a gentle tug, then a harder one. The knot stays. Louis pets his fingers through his hair. 

“Good boy.” Harry melts under the praise, leans into the touch.  “I have just a bit of work left to do. You’ll be my good boy and wait, won’t you?” The edges of Harry’s mind have already started to dull, going just the slightest bit fuzzy under Louis’ attention. Louis unwraps the silk band around his own throat and ties it around Harry’s. 

Owned. Claimed. Entirely Louis’. 

Louis loops a finger under the cloth and gently guides Harry closer. He shuffles on his hands and knees until he’s settled between Louis’ legs, watching as he undoes his zipper and pulls out his half hard cock. Harry’s eyes shine with want as he watches, hands bound behind him and entirely at Louis’ mercy. 

“Since you’ve been so sweet, you’ve earned this. Come here, darling.” Louis’ hand on the back of his head brings him closer. Harry takes Louis’ half hard cock in his mouth and shifts a little to get comfortable. “Good boy, so sweet for me. Stay just like that and keep my cock warm while I finish my writing.” 

If Harry had the option, he’d stay like this all the time, mouth stuffed full of cock and Louis’ fingers threading through his hair. Mind just slightly fuzzy and aroused. He drifts there for a while, spit dribbling down his chin, feeling blissfully needed and wanted and loved and used. He’s brought closer to the surface when he hears Louis close his journal and set it on the table beside them. 

“So good for me, darling. Why don’t you show me what else that pretty mouth of yours can do?”

Harry glances up to meet Louis’ eyes just for a moment before he hollows his cheeks, licks a stripe up Louis’ shaft before taking him in again. Louis grabs his hair again and moves his head for him, lets him fall right back into that fuzzy place of used and needed. He feels slick against the backs of his thighs, but it’s a far away thought. 

Louis groans and rolls his hips and moves Harry down until his nose hits skin and then holds him there. It’s just for a moment and Harry moans at the feeling. 

He can feel Louis’ knot starting to form against his tongue, can feel the slight swell of it as Louis drags his head back and forth until he stills him again. 

He pulls him off completely and Harry whines in his throat. 

“Oh, sweet thing. Did you get this just from sucking me off?” Harry hadn’t been aware of his own blinding arousal until Louis points it out. He nods, face burning red with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal. 

“It’s your turn, baby. What do you need?” 

“Anything -- anything you want.” Louis smiles, a sparkle in his eye. 

“You are a vision. Letting me choose your reward. You really are something special.” Harry basks in the praise. 

Louis moves him so his face is pressed down against the couch and his ass in the air. He should feel exposed like this, but all he feels is hot desire. Want for Louis to touch him and claim him in any way he wants. 

He’s so slick his thighs are dripping with it and the scent of Louis’ arousal only adds to it. 

He feels Louis’ cock press against his hole and he goes lax, mind blissfully empty of anything except the feeling of being owned and loved. 

He sinks in, a little breath punched out of him as he bottoms out. He’s clawing into the flesh of his palms, cock leaking where it dangles between his legs. He thinks he wants to say something, but all he can focus on is Louis’ scent and the feeling of his cock buried inside of him. Louis holds his bound hands to keep him from scratching. He stills, feels the sweat beading down his neck.

“You take me so well,” Louis runs his hands up his sides and thumbs over his nipples. “Look at you.” 

“Alpha,” He whines. “Please.”

“My greedy boy. I’ll give you more when it’s the right time.” 

Louis stays inside of him completely still for a moment longer and finally pulls out, almost all the way, and pushes back inside of him in one quick thrust. Harry shouts, sound muffled by his mouth against the couch. 

Harry sees stars as Louis keeps a brutal pace. It feels like he knocks the wind out of him each time. 

Louis snakes a hand around his throat and pulls him up, his back flush against Louis’ chest. He wraps a hand around his dick and strokes in time with his thrusts. 

Harry shouts as Louis changes his angle, pressing against his prostate with each thrust, head lolling back against Louis’ shoulder. 

“Good boy,” Louis bites into his bond mark again just as he pops his knot and it topples him over the edge, the feeling of both of their pleasure mixed into one, pulsing through him, surrounded by the feelings of love and praise and adoration he can feel from Louis. 

His mind goes completely fuzzy. He’s not sure he could open his eyes even if he wanted to. He can hear Louis’ voice talking to him, can feel his fingers touching him. 

“Can I -- just for a little while?” He says after a while. Louis holds him, fingers slowly undoing the ties behind his back. Harry doesn’t move his hands, leaves them clasped nicely behind his back and rests his head on Louis’ shoulder. 

The weight of the world doesn’t feel real when he’s cuddled with Louis. Nothing matters except them in these moments. He breathes in Louis’ scent and lets his eyes fall shut. 

“Alpha?” He hums in response. He’s rubbing gentle circles into the skin of his back. “Do you want kids?” 

“I do. Very much.” 

Harry smiles and drifts again. 

He feels it when Louis carries him to bed, sometime later. He tucks him into bed and settles behind him, pressing a kiss against the back of his neck. “I love you, H. Sleep well.” 

He’s in the kitchen the next morning in place of Verna. She was meant to be on Kitchen duty, but her pup got sick and Harry was in no position to make her work and leave her sick child. He turns the burners on low as he steps back and wipes sweat off of his forehead with a towel. The sun slowly starts to peek over the horizon which means people will wake soon. 

He starts a pot of coffee -- mostly for himself -- and leans back against the counter. He hears the front door open and shoves the towel into his pocket. 

Louis is usually the first through the door, but not this early. 

Instead of Louis, Maxwell bursts through the door. His scent is sour, angry and bitter and it makes Harry flinch. 

“Maxwell? Are you okay?” His eyes are rimmed red, like he’s been crying. 

“No. Because all of this is your fault. I didn’t start feeling like this until you came along. Until we all had to sit back and watch what Louis did to you. How sick that made me feel.” 

Harry blinks and takes a step back. Maxwell stands beside the knife block, hands only inches away from being able to grab something to hurt him.

In the earliest morning hour, no one is even awake to hear him yell out. Dread fills his stomach as he realizes he’s alone. “Stop it. Please just -- Leave me alone. You’re not supposed to be back here..” 

“No. I told your friend the truth about you and Louis. About how you can’t even tell any of us how you were actually mated to him because he brainwashed you to forget anything bad.” Harry blinks. The alpha doesn’t move towards the knives, but he takes another step forward. Harry takes a step back, heart beating loud in his ears. “Now my mate thinks I’m wrong for wanting out.” 

Harry feels his face go red at the mention of his mating. It’s not true. He remembers all of it. 

“Now Louis is going to blame you for his new recruit not working out. Because he’s got you under his thumb, just like the rest of us. Trapped here, unable to leave because of what? Some mindfuck he put us all through that’s so hypnotic that after no time you’re willing to spread it to others.”

“Matthew is not a new recruit unless he wants to be.” 

“You know that’s bullshit. As soon as he stepped in here he was just as fucked over as the rest of us.” 

His voice is full of venom as he backs Harry further into the corner of the kitchen. His back gets pressed against the metal of the stove and he tries to pull away at the feeling of being burned, the hot grates over the burners against his skin. 

Only when he cries out does Maxwell step back, eyes wide as if realizing what he did. His breaths are fast and he takes another nervous step backwards. 

“This place is like poison, Harry. It’s going to kill all of us. Louis nearly killed me. You’ll be next if you even just slightly step out of line. But go ahead and force your friend into the same fate.” 

“You’re not making any sense.” Maxwell is halfway out the door before Harry is done speaking. He feels faint, reaching back to touch the burn on his back. He winces, takes a deep breath, and slips away to the bathroom. 

He takes his shirt off and looks at his back in the mirror, frowning as he looks over himself. It’s not a bad burn, barely enough to break the skin, but still bad enough to be red and raw. He thinks it’ll blister soon enough. He rips off a piece of aloe from a plant on the windowsill and rubs it over the burn and lets it air dry. 

He can’t blame Maxwell for his misplaced anger. It makes sense. He remembers how he’d lashed out at his parents when he left the church, how he’d felt so angry and lost and confused. He imagines it’s worse when leaving friends and family and loved ones. 

He takes a deep breath and goes back to work. He still has a job to do. People to feed and take care of. He throws himself into it and forces himself to think about anything else. 

Louis kisses him when he climbs into bed later that evening. Kisses his neck and tries to pull him closer. Harry hates pushing him away.  “Alpha, I’m sorry. I don’t feel well.” 

Louis stills, eyes raking over him with concern. 

“What’s wrong, darling?” 

He should tell him the truth. Guilt gnaws up his throat, makes him feel tight and his eyes tight with tears. But he can’t. He’s not sure if the guilt of not telling Louis or the guilt of being responsible for what would happen to Maxwell would hurt more.  

“I accidentally burned myself in the kitchen today. I wasn’t paying attention and bumped into the burner.” 

“Oh, darling. Let me see.” 

He pulls his shirt off and rolls onto his stomach. Louis pulls the duvet down to see his back. He’s silent as he looks, fingers tracing the skin around it. 

Louis disappears into the bathroom and Harry can hear him rummaging around in the cabinets. 

Louis rubs a cream over the burn on his back with gentle fingers. “Thank you, Alpha,” He says into the pillow under him. Harry lets himself fall asleep with his touch, feeling relaxed and heavy. Exhausted, actually. 

He realizes that he’s felt exhausted for so long. Exhausted, hungry, angry. Feelings he hasn’t had the thought to process in the months since he’s bonded Louis. He forces himself to take deep breaths, to keep the emotions from getting too much. He doesn’t want to alert Louis to how he’s feeling. 

It must not work as well as he thought. He feels Louis sending calm and rest through their bond. He smiles. “I can feel you over thinking. Please rest, omega. It’s okay.” 

He wakes at some point in the middle of the night, wide awake. He peels himself out of bed and gets a glass of water from the kitchen, then slides back into bed. 

The thoughts don’t leave. 

He thinks back to Maxwell knelt in front of everyone, looking on the brink of death. The pale blue tinge to his skin. The sweat that beaded down his forehead. The tremors that shook his whole body. Thinks about the hours where Louis disappeared when Maxwell was unwell. Where he could have been. What he could have been doing. 

He can’t even imagine what Louis would have given him to cause that. All over the smallest flicker of uncertainty. 

He’s never been afraid of Louis. 

His eyes flicker over his alpha’s sleeping form beside him. His face looks so relaxed and calm in his sleep. Harry can’t imagine that this is the same man who could nearly kill another for something as benign as speaking his mind. 

He knows he can’t tell Louis about what Maxwell did in the kitchen. Not now. He can’t be responsible for what would happen because of it. 

Maxwell leaves him alone and he spends more days with Matthew. His questions feel less like interrogations and more like they did when they were back in college together, goofing off and thinking about nothing. “Will you stay?” 

“What?” It’s the first time he’s asked so bluntly. Matthew’s eyes go wide, like he wasn’t expecting the question. 

“Here. With us.” 

“No, that was never the plan.” Harry frowns, rejection simmering in his stomach. 

“Hasn’t this been nice for you? It’s like spring break from school but like, all the time.” 

“I’m not naive, H. I know it’s not like this all the time. It can’t be. I’m sure whatever goes on behind closed doors can’t be that bad, since you seem happy. But I’m not willing to do any of that.” 

“There’s not -- there really isn’t much else that you haven’t already seen.” Harry tries, but it’s weak. He wouldn’t believe himself, either. 

“I’m headed to bed. Good night, Harry.” 

When Louis gets in bed with him that night, he cries. He’s not sure why it hits him so hard, the thought of Matthew leaving. He’d seemed so disappointed in Harry when he asked him to stay. The look of confusion and then anger and then sadness -- it makes a pit form in Harry’s stomach. “You gave me one job and I failed.” He remembers what Maxwell said. How if he stepped out of line he’d be under Louis’ scrutiny just like he’d been. 

“What job, darling?”

“You wanted me to get Matthew to join us. I couldn’t. He won’t.” Louis strokes his hair, kisses his head. “I’m not good at that like you are.” 

“Darling, you didn’t fail. You planted the seeds. Sometimes they just take a little while to bloom. Sometimes they never do. It’s okay.” He nods, tears slowing. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” It settles him, just slightly. He feels so impossibly conflicted. He has no reason to believe Louis is anything but sweet and loving other than what Maxwell has told him. He has no proof that Maxwell didn’t just get sick on his own. That Louis had nothing to do with any of it. Maxwell was wrong about Louis taking it out on him that Matthew wasn’t willing to join. He didn’t even seem angry. 

Louis scents him to calm him down. It settles him. “I love you.” 

He knocks on Matthew’s door softly the next morning, bouncing from foot to foot as the early autumn chill sends shivers over his skin. 

“I’m headed out,” Matthew says as Harry walks into his little dorm. His bag is packed and already slung over his shoulder. He has a satellite phone strapped to the side of it. “Thank you for speaking with me, Harry. I really am glad you found your happiness here.” 

Take me with you. Don’t go. Please stay. I’m scared. Why will they let you go but they wouldn’t let me? None of those words come out. “Sorry your story is probably not going to be very interesting.” 

Matthew has never had a very good poker face. His lips form a straight line and he nods, but Harry feels his stomach sink. He rakes his brain, trying to think of what he could have said that would have been incriminating? 

“I hope Maxwell feels better. I heard he got really sick.” 

Harry's stomach drops. He smiles and nods. 

He knows. 

Two fears bloom inside of him at the same time, all at once. The first is having all of this taken away from him. If Matthew goes and writes his story incriminating all of this, he knows it can’t continue to exist the way it does now. Things will change. More reporters and detectives and outsiders will come to try and get them out. 

The second is the exact opposite. Matthew will leave and go back to his normal life. He’ll write a boring story with nothing new to say. Then, everyone will forget about him and he’ll be here forever. 

“Can I walk you to the trail?”

“No, I think that’s alright. I know you’re busy.” 

Harry nods. 

Matthew hugs him when they get to the door. Harry smiles. “You have everything you need? It’s an awfully long walk.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine.” He seems like he wants to say something else, but instead he turns on his heel and walks away. He’s a few steps away when he stops and turns back, looking at him with a frown. “If you ever need anything. Let me know, okay?” 

“Okay.” His throat feels tight. Harry watches him for a moment, and then he turns and walks in the opposite direction.

His steps are fast as he walks, then runs to the ritual hall. He knows Louis is practicing his sermons. He’s been strictly told to never interrupt him there. But he still pushes the door open and watches as Louis’ eyes snap over to him, narrowing just slightly. 

“Matthew is leaving. He just left. He’s going to ruin everything.” His voice sounds panicked. His heart is hammering in his chest. 

Louis snaps the journal in his hand shut and places it down on the podium in front of him. He walks to Harry and holds his hands gently, pressing little kisses on his knuckles. “Nothing is going to be ruined. I promise. It was very brave of you to come to me.” Harry nods. He feels sick. “Go upstairs and lay down. I’ll be back before bed tonight.” 

He’s trembling as he sits in the kitchen, body tense and thoughts racing. Louis told him to lay down, but the longer he’d laid in bed the more he thought about throwing himself out the window. Running for the hills without a word. He grits his teeth as he stares at the door, waiting for it to open. He breathes deeply and swallows through the dryness in his mouth. 

He couldn’t do that to Louis. He knows he owes him an explanation. 

The door opens and a rush of all-consuming adrenaline courses through him. His throat feels tight, his hands feel numb, wet, shaky-- 

“Hello, darling.” Louis kisses him with the same gentleness he does every morning. He wants to give into it, wants to sink into the comfort and the love he can feel behind it. “What’s wrong?” 

“I want to leave,” He blurts out. It’s less eloquent than he wanted it to be, less thought out and more impulsive. It feels like it’s in slow motion as he watches Louis take in the words. He watches his jaw tense, watches his posture straighten, watches the way he slowly sets down the bag in his hand. Harry’s stomach turns and he feels sick all over again, only made worse by the all-consuming scent of Louis when he’s upset. The sweet pine and petrichor turn bitter. Sharper. 

“What did you say, darling?” 

“I can’t do this anymore.” He feels small, suddenly. Confronted with the horrifying possibility of leaving Louis, of leaving the home he’s come to love here, it feels impossible. But staying feels just as hard. His breaths feel rushed and painful as he breathes in and out too quickly. “Everything feels so wrong and I can’t --” 

“Sh, baby. It’s okay, calm down.” He hadn’t realized he was crying until Louis reached forward and wipes the tears from his cheeks. “Explain to me what you’re feeling. When did you start feeling this way?”  

Louis is so calm. A constant, calming presence that makes him feel grounded even at his wors.t He exhales shakily, heart beating so fast in his chest he hears the rush of it in his ears. 

“I don’t know -- I just have this feeling. This urge to run away.” How could he have ever thought of leaving? Of leaving his alpha, his home his -- his everything? His face burns with embarrassment, the bag in his hand suddenly clattering to the ground. 

“We’re all so deeply connected, Harry. This is why things have felt so wrong lately. These thoughts, these feelings, they impact all of us.” He swallows back another wave of nausea. My fault. I did this. I ruin things. “We’re so connected in ways maybe we all can’t even imagine. All of us are connected together by a thread of consciousness, a string that keeps us all together, keeps everyone balanced and everything in order.” Louis tucks a stray hair behind Harry’s ear, then cups his jaw softly. He pulls Harry onto his lap gently, hands on his waist. “When one person starts having these thoughts, sometimes it spreads. Like an illness. Left unattended it could destroy everything we’ve worked so hard to create. The joy and happiness and belonging that everyone here loves and lives by.” Harry exhales a shuddery breath. It makes sense. He chose not to tell Louis about Maxwell right away. Chose to keep that from him. He let hismelf get infected with these ideas and let them spread. He breathes in a shaky breath. 

“Is this because of Maxwell? What he said to you in the kitchen?” Harry sucks in a breath, eyes meeting Louis’. They aren’t sharp in the way they usually are when he’s angry. 

“How do you --”

“Sh, omega. Don’t think about that. Just answer.” Tears spring to his eyes and he nods. He doesn’t want to feel like this. Doesn’t want to feel a constant, unending string of anxiety and fear. He hasn’t been able to eat. Hasn’t been able to sleep. Hasn’t been able to focus. Everything hurts. His mind spins. 

“Let me remind you why your belief in this, in us, is so strong, why you have no reason to worry.” Louis’ teeth sink deep into his bondmark and Harry’s mind goes still as the sting spreads through his body. He whimpers. It hurts. It’s never hurt before. Why does it hurt? 

He can hear Louis’ voice still ringing in his mind. 

It’s not supposed to hurt. 

He wants nothing more than to feel the joy and happiness that he knows he’s felt before, that he knows he could -- that he should -- be feeling. He wonders what’s wrong with him. Where he went wrong, what moral failing he has that has led him here, disappointing the only person who has ever loved and cared for him like this. 

He feels like he should struggle. He thinks he should say something. He should -- he doesn’t know. His thoughts are sluggish, all bleeding together into nothingness the longer he sits limply on the alpha’s lap. 

The pain fades. His thoughts stop racing, his body feels light. 

“You do not need to think about these things anymore, pet,” Louis coos, a spread wide hand on his stomach, holding him in place. His limbs feel heavy, tied down with stones as his mind feels miles under the surface. There’s a commanding tinge to his voice that puts Harry’s mind at ease. “Sleep, omega.” 

He’s not tired, but his mind goes blank and he has no choice but to succumb. 

---- 

Harry dreams of darkness. He’s alone. Cold. The ground beneath him feels hard and wet. It’s not entirely unusual. He remembers having the most vivid nightmares when he was stressed before. Nightmares that after he woke up he’d have to make sure hadn’t been real. He wonders what waits for him in the darkness. What creatures and monsters his mind has conjured up as a cruel representation of the endless guilt he feels over letting Louis down. 

Louis. 

His mouth feels dry and his heart feels heavy. Guilt weighs him down until he’s so heavy that he thinks he might be buried alive, encased in concrete. 

He breathes in, and out. 

Please wake up. 

Lucidity in his dreams has always felt normal, to him. Being able to control himself and his thoughts even when sleeping a common practice. In his nightmares, he’s always been able to control himself without being able to control the rest of the dream. His own personal and inescapable horror film. 

He breathes in. Imagines himself waking up in his bed to try and rouse his body to consciousness. 

His mind wanders for a long while, fluttering from thought to thought, feeling the darkness completely envelop him. His head feels fuzzy. Unclear. 

Consciousness seems to float around him, just barely out of reach. 

He floats like that for a long while, wedged somewhere between awareness and nothingness. Stuck in that eerily peaceful place between wakefulness and sleep. 

Wake up. He tells himself. Braced with another deep breath he forces himself to reach out into the darkness in front of him. 

He rakes his nails over his skin and winces at the pain. 

Pain means he’s awake. 

Pain means that all of this is real. 

He feels his heart beat rapidly in his chest, hot tears springing to his eyes. He blindly feels the wetness of the ground around him, crawling and feeling until his hands and knees feel raw. 

Only when he collapses does he let himself cry. 

Louis left him here. Left him in the darkness with no way out. 

The darkness behind his eyes is no different than the darkness around him. He becomes aware slowly that he’s still alive. Still in one piece. 

His head throbs with pain, spreading down his neck and his back with each thud of his heart. It’s impossibly dark and Harry feels the panic rise in his throat.

He closes his eyes and lets himself drift for a while. The hypnotic whir of the wind somehow puts him into a slow daze. 

Drifting there, somewhere between wakefulness and sleep, he hears an unfamiliar voice. It repeats his mantras to him in an endless, hypnotic rhythm. 

He finds himself repeating them without thought before long. 

Long after the voice is gone, he continues his repetitions. 

His voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper as he repeats them. 

When he wakes again, he brushes against something cold. He flinches but reaches out for it blindly. 

His hands wrap around it, shakily making out the shape of a bottle. He undoes the cap and lets himself drink the entire bottle in one go. 

He lays back again into his abyss of darkness, not bothering to open his eyes, knowing there will be no difference around him. 

“Thank you,” He whispers into the nothingness. 

The cycle repeats like that. Harry isn’t sure how long he exists there in that space between alive and dead, between existence and nothingness. When he tries to count in his head it only serves to put him right back into that daze of unconsciousness. 

He opens his eyes to a glowing light above him. It breaks apart the darkness just slightly, fragmenting a slight glowing yellow around him. He blinks. Narrows his eyes. Stares. But he stays entirely still. He remembers what Louis said about hallucinating when left entirely in the dark. How he would see things that aren’t there because his mind wants to trick him into seeing what he wants to see. 

He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a breath and floats away. 

--- 

There’s a sound of footsteps and Harry’s heartbeat only speeds up further. He bites his tongue hard enough to feel blood. 

Louis. 

The realization comes with waves of relief, hot tears pouring down his face as he fumbles to touch him. He’s solid. Tangible. Real. Harry clings to him, hands trembling. His legs under him feel shaky. He’s not sure how long it’s been since he last stood up.

Louis brings a bottle to his lips and helps him drink again, holds him still, keeps him from floating away. He opens his mouth to speak but Louis shushes him, runs his fingers through his hair as he drinks the last of the water. 

“I need you to walk. One foot in front of the other.” 

His voice feels far away, reverberating off of the stone walls around them. The only thing remind him he’s real is the warmth of his hands touching him. Louis’ touch makes him feel solid again. 

“Okay,” He whispers. It feels too loud. Slowly, his pieces come together and he becomes real. Piece by piece, step by step, he feels whole in Louis’ grasp. 

Louis walks behind him, a hand on his hip and the other hand holding his as they walk through the darkness. Harry’s steps are shaky where Louis’ are sure and confident. 

It feels like they walk for hours. The only sound around them their footsteps until the sound of rushing water feels louder, closer. He can feel the cool moisture clinging to his skin. 

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” He rushes, words past his lips before he can process the question. 

“Do you trust your family?”

“Yes.” 

“Do you believe in us?”

He takes a breath. “Yes.” He knows Louis can feel his hesitance. 

Louis lights a lighter, the flicking sound the only give before the space around them is illuminated dully. He flips a switch and a groan of old electricity illuminates a dozen bulbs above them, snaking through the network of the cave hundreds of feet above them and below. The sound of rushing water is closer, now, giving life to a pool of water beneath them fed by a wide-mouth waterfall that eroded through the walls of the cave. 

Above them, he can see the night sky, full of stars forcing little specks of light into the depths of darkness around them. 

“Where are we?” 

“A ritual area.” Louis tucks the lighter away once the lights flicker once, twice, and then seem steady. “When the universe calls to us and knows we truly need to help someone, we are given this space. The water and wind are usually much too loud for us to even be able to hear each other down here.” Harry nods. “Kneel for me.” Harry nods, sinking down easily. 

Louis kneels in front of him and Harry’s heart pounds in his chest. For the briefest of moments, it feels like they are equals. Louis twists to take a backpack off of his shoulders and sets it between them. He strings out a length of red rope and sets it on the bag to keep from dirtying it. “Good. Stay.” 

Harry keeps his back straight and his breaths deep and even as Louis wraps ropes around his chest, over his shoulders, and around his waist. It’s a sweet, hypnotic feeling as Louis weaves the soft rope across his skin. Each touch reminds him that he’s solid, that he’s alive, that Louis is there with him. 

“Stand.” Louis takes his hand to help him stand, holds him steady for a moment as the needles in his feet slowly dissipate. “Good. Stay, again.” 

The praise settles him each time. 

Louis lays his jacket out on the ground in front of him. “Kneel. This should make it hurt less. Close your eyes and do your breathing. Repeat your mantras in your head twenty times.” 

He breathes deeply and closes his eyes, repeats the familiar words in his head. 

I belong to Louis. 

Community above all else.

I am loved. I belong. I am whole. 

I am free from harm, from fear, from being alone. 

His head feels fuzzy the more he repeats the phrases in his head. He feels himself go lax in his bindings and focuses only on the feeling of his breath -- in, out, hold. In, out, hold. 

A rush of wind brings him back to the surface, a chill spreading over his skin and making him shiver. He hears the shuffle of footsteps in the silence, and then Maxwell’s voice. It’s quiet and slurred, barely audible until he comes closer. He keeps his eyes shut, breathes in, breathes out, and focuses on the sound of the rushing water. He repeats his lines again. Time feels fluid here, surrounded by the damp air and light breeze. He’s not sure how many times he’s said them in his head. 

Louis said twenty. He’ll know when to get him, when it’s been long enough. 

“Up, now,” Louis’ voice says softly behind him, a hand gently grabbing his arm and helping him up. He opens his eyes slowly and blinks twice to adjust to the low light around him. 

He’s surrounded by the family again, the small space filled entirely. They’re wearing the same ceremonial clothes Harry had woken up in. It makes his chest pang with pain again, the reminder that he’s lost the privilege of wearing Louis’ clothes. Louis’ black clothes stand stark against the white he wears. Only emphasized by the red of the rope wrapped around his body. It feels like the only thing holding him together. 

“I’m sorry,” He says softly, heart heavy with guilt. Louis looks at him with a softness in his eyes that makes Harry’s chest feel heavy. 

“Shh. There’s a time for that later, omega. Do not worry about that now.” 

Maxwell is quiet as he stands across from him in the same white clothes and red ropes. He has a red cloth covering his eyes. Louis loops a thin, jewelry chain between the bracelets around both of their wrists, fastening them together. 

As soon as they’re fastened together, two of the younger girls take Louis’ hand and two boys take Maxwell’s and lead them to the edge of a platform. Harry forces himself to breathe deep, muscles tight and heart racing as he walks. His legs tremble. He can’t see Louis but he can feel his gaze on him as he walks. The expectation to obey, to trust and to belong, sit heavy on his shoulders. 

His heart rabbits in his chest as they walk closer, the girls stopping as soon as his toes are on the metal edge. He dares a glance over the edge and feels his stomach lurch into his throat, hot stinging bile climbing up his throat as he feels unsteady on his feet. 

The girl that led him to the edge is gone when he turns to look at her and he feels a tug upwards on his rope bindings. He watches slowly as the red line of rope is fastened onto a large beam just overhead, bolted into the stone walls above them. Two red ropes attaching him and Maxwell to safety. He wants to reach out and hold it. For the first time, he pulls against his restraints. They don’t budge and all he can do is clench his fists. 

He forces himself to look down again, eyes scanning over the serrated surface of the platform.

The platform is no more than three feet wide, made of a metal formed into the shape of a grid. 

“Go ahead,” Louis’ voice says, but he can’t see him in the dimly lit space around him. He feels lost without being able to see him, ungrounded, tears threatening to spill over his cheeks. He looks up at the metal bar the ropes around him have been fastened to one more time. They’re twisted and knotted enough times that he feels it should be safe. 

He knows he has to have trust. 

He feels breathless as he steps out onto the platform. It’s long and narrow, spanning over the length of the drop, with a railing across only one side. The wind feels stronger as he steps off of solid ground. The metal creaks and groans under his weight, shaking with it’s age. He clenches his fists hard enough that he feels warm, wet blood pooling under his nails. Tension tugs on the bracelet around his wrist and makes him falter just slightly and he looks up, wide eyes meeting Maxwell’s blindfolded face. 

The blindfold is taken from Maxwell’s eyes just before he steps onto the platform and he gasps, trembles and stumbles, the one sided railing the only thing keeping him from falling. He shouts, trying to reach for the railing despite his hands being tied firmly behind his back. 

“Keep walking,” Louis’ voice commands, strong and powerful. The rest of the people around them are entirely silent but Harry can feel each of their eyes trained on them.  

Maxwell whimpers as he takes slow, careful steps. It’s agonizing as they walk to the center of the platform and the lights get brighter around them, showing how far the drop beneath them is. Harry’s stomach turns. His nails dig deeper into his palms. 

“You both have the chance to prove yourself to me. Show how much you believe in your family.” Harry’s heart is pounding in his chest. His eyes scan over the crowd again and he finally sees Louis. A wave of calm floods over him as he meets his eyes. 

“I believe! I’m here, with you.” Maxwell nearly screams, body trembling. His eyes are wide and pupils blown. Panicked. 

“You’ve questioned us. Doubted our loyalty to you and your trust and faith in us. Your doubts have poisoned Harry’s mind, too. Made him doubt his faith. That’s why you’re both here. To prove that you have faith. To prove that your body, mind, and soul are dedicated to only us.” 

Maxwell’s eyes meet his, pupils still blown and eyes wide. It reminds Harry of the first time he went hunting. When he’d watched his dad shoot a deer with a fatal blow and the same fearful expression had taken it’s features. 

“Harry, you don’t have to. We can both leave here. We can -- You me -- and, and. And your friend Matthew, we could leave. Together. And you go write your s-s-story.” His scent is sour with fear. 

Harry’s chest tightens. He looks to Louis. He’s so still, silent, expressionless. The decision is entirely for him to make. 

Harry looks at Maxwell again and shakes his head. 

“Step off.”

He can hear Maxwell’s sobs, can hear the whoosh of the wind and the roar of the water and the blood rushing behind his ears. 

They’re tethered together. 

He swallows. 

Everything is too loud. 

“Together?” He tries. Maxwell takes a step back and it lurches Harry forward, nearly sending them over the edge when he can't reach out to steady himself. 

“No,” Maxwell sobs. But he takes the smallest step forward as Harry does, the tension in the chain connecting them leaving him no choice. It will snap when they jump, but a movement quick and hard enough to snap it on the platform would send Maxwell off the edge just as fast. 

He turns, toes dangling an inch over the edge as he watches the violent rapids of the waterfall spinning into the abyss beneath him. 

He meets Louis’ eyes as he teeters over the edge. 

Go ahead. 

He takes the step and feels the tug of Maxwell being pulled after him. 

His body drops and the rope snaps taut overhead, knocking the breath out of him. 

The smaller chain connecting the bracelets around their wrists snaps under Maxwell’s weight, sending Harry’s body jerking back just lightly and the broken piece of chain dangling beneath him. 

Maxwell drops and his ropes come loose, unraveling as if in slow motion. 

Harry screams, thrashing as he watches Maxwell’s body plummet into the rushing water beneath him. 

His screams are the only sound, echoing, reverberating through the solid stone and echoing back to him. He sobs, body trembling and shaking. 

He stays there until his throat is so raw from screaming that he thinks he’ll never be able to speak again. And yet, he leans back into the security of the ropes and thinks only of Louis. Of his trust and love and the safety that comes with it. Of how his loyalty and love for Louis and his family kept him alive.

Only when everything is silent does he feel the rope pulling him up, over the edge of the cliff and into Louis’ arms. 

Louis saved him. 

His belief in Louis kept him from falling. 

He’s trembling, body shaking as Louis holds him so tightly. Louis was right all along. His belief, his place here, his belonging. 

“You are so strong,” Louis whispers, pushing the wind-disheveled hair out of his face. “Do you see it now? Do you believe in us?” 

Harry nods, tears streaming down his face. “Yes,” He croaks out from his strained throat. He blinks again, eyes stinging with tears and Louis feels illuminated, somehow. A light in the darkness that seems to shield him from anything he’s ever worried about before. A safety net he knows will always catch him as long as he believes that he will. 

He breathes deep, takes in the scent of his alpha and the damp air around him and knows that he’s surrounded by everything he could ever need and want as long as he believes. 

The breeze around him, the warmth of Louis’ touch, his scent, closes him in. He’s limp in Louis’ grasp, lets himself be moved however Louis feels fit. Whatever Louis wants is all he will ever need. 

The ropes release him and he feels a trail of kisses against his bloodied palms. 

Louis bites into his bonding mark without warning. Warmth spreads over him, limbs feeling impossibly heavier. He’s not sure he could open his eyes even if he wanted to. He sinks into the feeling, surrounded completely by Louis and his family, finally secure and whole… 

With a shuttering breath, he feels his edges start to unravel. He can’t find where he ends and where Louis begins. 

“Let go, Harry.” 

------

Harry sits on the couch bundled up in a blanket beside the lit fire. His herbal tea has gone cold but he still forces himself to finish it instead of getting up to reheat it. Louis sits across from him, eyes glancing up often enough that Harry is almost sure he’s drawing him. 

A knock raps on the door and Louis stands up to answer it. 

“You have such a nice pregnant glow,” Harry pouts. “All I’ve gotten is sick.” 

Matthew got pregnant only a few months after Harry did. He settles on the couch beside him as his alpha, Isaac, goes to the kitchen with Louis. Matthew smiles, but he doesn’t respond. Matthew hasn’t talked much since he joined them. Louis said it happened sometimes. When an omega discovered how much they’d been missing their entire lives, how much they kept themselves from by working and struggling and stressing. 

Harry grew used to it as time passed and learned to do enough talking for both of them. He knew one day he’d be back to his true self.