Cold Calls

by xunorthodox

Summary:

Harry tilted his head, his green eyes scanning Louis' face in a way that made his skin crawl.

"You're a terrible liar, you know that?"

Against his better judgment, the cracks in his composure widen as he says, "What do you want me to say, Harry? You've got a job to do. I'm not going to sit here and guilt you into staying."

OR

Louis is nearing the severe stages of touch depri and alpha drop. Harry just can’t stay away.

Notes:

This is my second fic to for 1D Neglected Tags!! This is dedicated to Megs (yourgorgeouscolors on ao3)!! I love you so much.

As always, thank you to my forever beta C ! Thank you to the frat boy daddies gc !

My Twitter is @/LTWRITTEN <3!

This sickness is unlike anything else. 

It started with hot flashes, his body breaking out in a cold sweat despite the heat spiking in different areas. Then came the erratic heartbeat like he’s drank too much coffee, like he’s nearly slipping off a treadmill with uneven footfalls because it’s going too fast to keep steady.

The worst part is the vague sense of nausea in his throat and head, making sure that he’s unable to eat anything. Further contributing to the lethargic weak sensation spreading through his limbs like poison. 

This is his own fault. When the symptoms first appeared, he brushed it off assuming that it would pass. Instead it worsened, folding in on itself and expanding with twice the intensity.

By the time he realized his body was shutting down, his own pride kept him from saying anything. Sick from being touch starved, isolating and letting this drop kill him over reaching out.

Because vulnerability is not his strong suit. It never was. Unable to give up control unless it’s forced out his hands and even then there’s blood involved when it comes to that. Because he’ll fight and claw and cry before he lets himself be seen that way.

He knows this path he’s walking leads one way. He just never expected to run into someone who throws a fork in the road.

Harry Styles.

They met accidentally of course. Louis sticks to himself, doesn’t really speak to anyone outside of his family. And the obligation of interacting with colleagues at work. Pain ricochets through him and he groans, gasping as his body begs for everything he can’t give it.

This is why Louis had been wary of getting others involved. He got too comfortable, let Harry lick his wounds too many times - now it’s the only antidote capable of saving him. He’d never let himself stand in the way though, and would swallow his last breath before asking Harry to stay.

His alpha thinks of Harry, a painful whimper forced out of his lips. A cough rips through the inner linings of his throat, and shakes his whole body on its way out. He doesn’t remember hitting the ground but he yelps when the pain of the fall blends in with the constant ache already plaguing his body. He shuts his eyes at the pounding behind them - did he hit his head?

The throbbing is worse now.

He should get up - but his limbs aren’t cooperating, twitching with slow movements as he shivers on the cold bathroom floor. 

There’s a longing in his chest for Harry, as fierce as anything else but he’s not here. Fleetingly, Louis is glad for that - that Harry won’t see the alpha laid out on the floor unable to get up on his own. That’s humiliating. He’s grateful to be missing out on the pity the sweet omega would no doubt give him.

Harry deserves better than this. An alpha who can take care of him and not the other way around. He could’ve done that easily, before he let himself get this bad. Maybe that’s the most devastating part. 

Louis’ alpha gives a pitiful protesting howl, short because it is also too weak on the verge of another blackout. They’re more frequent again, stronger too as if they’re taking advantage of Harry’s absence. He should open his eyes but the darkness takes over and he surrenders to the unrelenting cold. 

He’s disoriented when he wakes up, unsure of how much time he’s lost. Black spots at the end of his tunneling vision make it even more difficult to get his bearing, but with slow movements and a lot of strength he doesn’t really have, he’s able to sit up at the very least.

THEN

Louis sat slumped in his chair, the hum of his computer screen providing a backdrop to his rapidly deteriorating focus. His body ached in ways he couldn’t describe, limbs heavy and so cold despite the warm office air. He even has a heater but it’s useless against the freezing chill he’s engulfed in daily. 

He lifts his head enough to stare at the spreadsheet in front of him, his head pounding. The numbers swam across the screen, refusing to align, and his patience was wearing thin. The heavy ache in his chest made it feel like it was caving in, a constant companion for weeks. It throbbed now in time with his pulse, struggling to produce the same kind of energy he used to have.

When the office door cracked open, Louis didn’t bother looking up. He wasn’t sure if he could without risking a blackout anyway. It was probably just a coworker or his supervisor coming by to pile more work on his desk. He didn’t need to mask for that, most of them expect him to be withdrawn.

 “Uh… sorry — wrong office,” came a tentative, unfamiliar voice. 

Louis blinked, his irritation giving away to confusion. He looked up and saw a man standing in the door. He’s tall, hair curling out in soft brown ringlets, and he clutched a wrinkled piece of paper in one hand. His eyes— a soft, bright green—darted nervously around Louis’ office.

It takes a moment for his nose to work, his alpha more dormant than active unless it was to cry for relief. But when the man in the doorway flushed, his scent— soft and faintly sweet, like fresh linen and honey— seeped into the air. 

Omega. 

Omegas usually avoided him these days, the faint sterility of his own fading scent acting as a silent warning to anyone with a keen nose. But this one didn’t seem to notice or didn’t seem to care.

Louis stiffens, unsure how smelling his scent will affect his touch deprivation. He backs his chair up a little, switching to mouth breathing in hopes of avoiding losing the little control he has. 

“I swear they said the third door on the left,” The man mumbled, glancing at the paper in his hand.

”Second door,” Louis said flatly, leaning back in his chair. “Right side of the hall. Can’t miss it.”

The man laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Right. I’ll, uh, try again. Sorry for bothering you.”

He lingered for a second too long, his gaze flickering over Louis. For a brief moment, Louis wondered if he could smell the exhaustion rolling off him, if the omega instinct to care might kick in. But then the man backed away, mumbling another apology as he disappeared down the hall.

Louis stared at the empty doorway for a long moment, his mind buzzing like the sound of static. He chances a sniff of the air, his alpha actually making an appearance for the first time in a while at the honeyed scent of laundry.

It made Louis’ head spin, his vision threatening to go as he whimpered a little. His cheeks flushed, embarrassed that he’s getting worked up like this. He digs out his scent neutralizer and sprays a ridiculous amount - his alpha howling as the scent disappears.

It’s for the better. 

He can’t afford to drop.

 

THEN

Louis didn’t expect to see the man again. Most people who wandered into his office by mistake didn’t bother coming back, let alone with an apology. 

So the knock on the door startled him. He’d been trying—and failing—to finish his report, his mind clouded by fatigue. He considered ignoring the knock but it came again, persistent.

”Come in,” He muttered. 

The door opened, and there he was again, the lost omega from a few days ago, though this time he carried two steaming cups of coffee, the steam curling lazily into the air. It masks Harry’s scent well enough but he’s still wary as he eyes him.

”Hey,” The omega said, offering a small smile. “You’re Louis, right?”

Louis frowned. “How do you know my name?”

He doubts people at work talk about him nicely, even though it’s not like he’s mean to anyone. He just keeps his distance both physically and socially. It’s bad enough that he looks like death on the daily, he can’t give anything else away of how bad his symptoms have gotten.

The omega steps closer to the desk cautiously. “Your nameplate. Pretty prominent.”

Louis glanced at his desk, then back at the omega, who had come close enough to set one of the cups of coffee down. “I, uh, wanted to say sorry for barging in the other day. I was kind of an idiot, and probably wasted your time. Thought I could make it up to you with coffee.”

Louis stared at the cup, his fingers twitching slightly. His first instinct was to refuse. He didn’t want anyone’s pity, especially an omega’s. Alphas are supposed to be strong providers for everyone around them. But the warmth of the coffee is alluring, the desire to fight the cold in his body more appealing than his pride at the moment. Plus the sincerity in the man’s voice is genuine, and Louis doesn’t want to be a knot head.

”Thanks,” Louis murmurs, finally reaching for the cup.

The omega gives him a blinding smile as if Louis had done something incredible. “I’m Harry, by the way.”

“Right,” Louis says, wrapping both hands around the cup. It’s boiling hot, but Louis shudders as the warm makes contact with skin. His throat tightens with effort at the noise he wants to make - the coffee a temporary relief. 

“I’ll get out of your hair,” Harry says, backing toward the door. “Maybe next time I won’t get lost.”

Louis huffed a quiet laugh. “We’ll see.”

 

THEN

The days blurred together, his body shutting down at a faster rate than normal. His office door swings open, and Louis is just so tired.

 “Not now,” He snapped, his voice harsher than intended. His ears are ringing, but he can still kind of make out the response.

 “Okay, wow, I really need to stop doing this.”

Louis looked up sharply, his stomach lurching with the movement— but there he was again, Harry stepping in with a sheepish grin in place. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Louis muttered, closing his eyes.

Harry shrugged. “What can I say? Your office has a magnetic pull.”

Despite himself, Louis felt a faint smirk tug at the corner of his lips. “Or you’re bad at following directions.”

Harry laughed, the sound bright and cheery as his scent curled in the air. It’s soothing, and Louis sways when it enters his senses.

”You okay?” Harry asked, his voice soft now.

Louis dreads what Harry’s probably seeing now. Him hunched over his desk, his shoulders tense, and his skin pale under the harsh fluorescence. He forces himself to look at Harry again so he can tell him he’s fine. 

Harry’s body language is hesitant, his omega instincts obviously flaring at the sight of his alpha’s obvious exhaustion.

”You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I’m fine,” Louis said sharply, though the slur in his voice betrayed him. 

Harry stepped closer, his scent thickening in the room like a warm blanket. “When’s the last time you ate?”

Louis glared at him, well at what he thinks is the correct Harry. There’s three of him right now. “Don’t start.”

Harry sighed. “You know alphas can accept help. That takes strength too.”

Louis waves off the concern before asking Harry to leave as he has a meeting coming up. As soon as the door shuts, he goes limp into a dreamless void.

 

THEN 

He hadn’t meant for it to happen, but somehow Harry had become a regular fixture in his life. It started off small — Harry bringing lunch to his office, sitting across from Louis and chatting about everything from his favorite music to his latest book recommendation. Louis would grumble at first, muttering about how he didn’t need a babysitter, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell Harry to leave.

Especially since he woke after his blackout, panicked but also strangely refreshed? That was new. Waking up from blackouts usually left him incapacitated for a couple of hours, as he tried to get his broken body to start moving again.

For whatever reason, Louis’ nonexistent alpha had felt comforted by Harry’s scent. Enough for the lingering smell of it to ease some of the ache in his body, and chase away some of the chills.

After the impromptu lunch routine came the coffee runs. Harry had a knack for appearing with a steaming cup of coffee just as the alpha was about to collapse from exhaustion. They’d talk about nothing and everything, the easy rhythm of Harry’s voice enough to pull Louis out of the fog.

But it wasn’t just the conversation. It was Harry himself— his presence, his scent, his touch. Harry’s scent lingered in the air long after he left, the warm and grounding smell soothing Louis’ alpha drop. And then there were the moments when Harry would brush against Louis’ arm or nudge him playfully with his shoulder.

The first time nearly sent Louis into a panic attack, terrified that he would drop from the contact.

Somehow, he didn’t.

He chalks it up to the frequent visits from Harry, his scent always prominent. It goes against everything Louis has been doing, letting Harry be around him like this. He did this to himself, he should be dealing with it by himself.

Yet deep down, he knows the truth. Harry’s presence was the only thing keeping the worst of his alpha drop at bay.

THEN, CLOSER TO NOW

“Movie night?” Harry asked one Friday evening, smiling widely.

Louis looks up from his desk, his eyebrows raised. ”You’re asking me to voluntarily sit in a dark room with you for two hours?”

Harry nods enthusiastically. “And eat copious amounts of popcorn. Don’t forget that part.”

Louis hesitated. He wasn’t sure how that would work out. His symptoms are bearable now, the ever present cold still there but the shakes have lessened. His headache is easier to ignore and he doesn’t feel like he’s going to pass out any second anymore. He doesn’t want to lose it, the small relief he’s managed to somehow stumble across but he also would rather die than risk dropping in front of Harry.

The omega is looking at him earnestly, big hopeful emerald eyes awaiting his verdict. His alpha, which he’s not used to being active, paws at his chest to accept the invitation.

”Fine,” He swallows, “But I’m not watching anything with explosions. My head can’t take it.”

Harry beamed. “Deal.”

That same night, as they sat on Harry’s couch, the omega’s scent everywhere, Louis felt more at peace than he can even remember. Harry’s shoulder brushed against his as they reached for popcorn at the same time, and Louis surprisingly didn't flinch. Instead, his alpha takes over, his body leaning in just slightly to soak up the warmth radiating off Harry’s body.

 

THEN, CLOSER TO NOW

 

Louis was bent over his desk, half engrossed in a stack of paperwork when Harry knocked lightly on the door. He didn’t look up. He didn’t need to—Harry’s scent reached him before the omega even spoke. That mix of honey and fresh warm linen filled the room, and Louis’ shoulders relaxed involuntarily, the faint buzz of Harry’s presence already working to soothe his frayed nerves.

”Hey, Louis.” Harry’s voice was soft but had an edge of hesitation that immediately caught Louis’ attention.

“What’s wrong?”

Harry stepped into the office, his presence filled the room like sunlight trying to peek through heavy clouds. “I… I need to tell you something.”

Louis squinted at him. The hesitation caused his alpha perk up uneasily. Harry shifted on his feet, his hand tugging absently at a loose curl. There’s a little bit of sourness clinging to the edges of his scent now that Louis is alert.

”I’ve got to leave for a work trip next week. I’ll be gone for about seven days.”

Louis froze.

For a moment, it felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. Seven days. No Harry. No soothing presence. Seven days. No warm scent wrapping around him like a lifeline. Seven days. No relief from his symptoms. 

Seven days.

He forced himself to blink, to breathe, to not let the panic show. “Right,” He says, his voice flat. “Work trip. No big deal.”

Harry frowned. His scent shifted slightly, like warm honey starting to crystallize. It was a subtle but unmistakable sign of an omega picking up on unease.

”You sure?” He asked carefully. “You seem off?”

Desperate at the thought of the omega abandoning him, his alpha threatens to overwhelm him in its panic and despair. 

Louis forces a chuckle, though it sounds hollow even to him. “When don’t I seem off?”

It’s a risky comment to make but Harry’s mouth quirked up, though the concern didn’t leave his eyes. “Touché.” He pauses, then added, “I’ll be a few hours away, and I’ll check in if you need anything —“

“I don’t need anything,” Louis cut him off, sharp. He regretted it immediately when he saw a flicker of hurt in Harry’s expression. Way to be a knothead. “Look, just go. Do your thing. I know how to survive.”

Harry tilted his head, his green eyes scanning Louis’ face in a way that made his skin crawl. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”

Louis clenched his jaw, looking away. His mind tries to come up with anything he can say to get himself out of this conversation. Against his better judgment, the cracks in his composure widen as he says, “What do you want me to say, Harry? You’ve got a job to do. I’m not going to sit here and guilt you into staying.”

It’s the closest they’ve ever come to addressing Louis’ condition. He knows Harry’s not stupid, that he can see the exhaustion in Louis’ eyes, the pallor of his skin, and the way his hands trembled — and he knows he’s put it together that he’s suffering from touch deprivation. 

But he probably thinks it's the beginning stages, not the middle to end stages that Louis is actually teetering on in addition to the alpha drop that hovers over his shoulder. 

“I didn’t say you would,” Harry replied softly. “I just… you don’t have to pretend everything’s fine when it’s not.”

Louis’ stomach twisted. How could he explain it? How could he admit that Harry was the only thing keeping him afloat, that even the thought of losing him—even for a week—terrified him? He couldn’t.

He wouldn’t.

”I’ll be fine,” Louis said again, forcing the words out. “Really.”

He needs Harry to leave his office immediately though.

He didn't look convinced but Harry nodded slowly anyway. “Okay. But you’d better pick up when I call, or I’m showing up here unannounced.”

Louis gives him a halfhearted smirk. “Wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

Realistically, he knows that’s insane and that Harry’s just making a joke to lighten the mood. As Harry turned to leave, his scent stayed, wrapping around Louis like a bittersweet reminder of what he was about to lose. When the door clicked shut behind him, the emptiness rushed in like a tidal wave, and Louis leaned forward with his head in his hands.

He could already feel the ache in his chest growing sharper, an omen of what would surely be coming for him now. Seven days.

Seven long days without Harry.

Louis clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He whimpers lowly, his alpha sinking into chest with a depressed whine. I can handle this, he told himself. 

I have to.

NOW

The day Harry left, Louis tried to convince himself it wasn’t a big deal. He stood stiffly, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his heavy duty coat as Harry closed the trunk of his car. 

“You sure you’ve got everything?” Louis asked gruffly, his tone clipped. He hated how obvious his tension was, but Harry was kind enough to ignore it.

“Triple-checked,” Harry said with a soft smile. His curly hair was tied back messily, and he looked as relaxed as ever, but his scent carried a faint undertone of concern—sweet honey laced with something sharper, like lemon. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was a reminder that Harry wasn’t as oblivious as Louis wished he were.

Louis forced himself to look at Harry, at his bright green eyes and the way the cold wind reddened his cheeks. He told himself to memorize the image, even as his chest tightened at the thought of Harry driving away.

“It’s just a week,” Harry said, as though he could read Louis’ mind. “I’ll call if I get the chance.”

Louis gave a short nod, his throat too tight to respond. He felt like a fool—an alpha standing there, unable to muster a proper goodbye.

Harry hesitated for a moment, his hand twitching at his side as if debating whether to reach out. Then, with a soft sigh, he placed a hand on Louis’ arm, his touch warm even through the layers of fabric.

“Take care of yourself,” Harry said quietly, his eyes searching Louis’ face.

Louis swallowed hard, the warmth of Harry’s hand grounding him, even as his instincts screamed to pull Harry closer, to hold onto him. He couldn’t. Instead, he nodded again, muttering, “You too.”

Harry smiled, his scent lingering in the air as he got into the car and started the engine. As the car pulled out of the lot, Louis stood frozen, his chest aching with a hollowness he hadn’t felt in weeks.

DAY ONE

Louis stood at his office window, staring out at the grey sky. Today it felt muted, distant—like he was looking at the world through a sheet of fog.

Harry was gone.

The realization sat heavy in his chest, even though Harry’s absence hadn’t even been a full day. Louis could still catch faint traces of Harry’s scent lingering in the office but it was fading quickly, and with it went the fragile sense of stability Louis had clung to for weeks.

The morning had started with a sharp, throbbing headache that refused to let up no matter how much water or coffee Louis drank. Every noise felt too loud, every light too bright. His senses, usually sharp and attuned, were dulled by the haze of alpha drop, leaving him feeling disconnected from the world around him.

And then there was the cold. It seeped into his bones, no matter how many layers he wore or how high he turned up the heat. The absence of Harry’s omega warmth was like a missing puzzle piece, leaving Louis incomplete and vulnerable.

He found himself replaying their last conversation in his mind, over and over again.

You sure you’ll be okay?
I’ll survive.

Louis scoffed bitterly. Surviving wasn’t the same as living, and right now, it felt like he was barely managing either.

By the afternoon, his symptoms had worsened. His hands trembled as he tried to type, and his chest ached with every breath. He knew he should go home, rest, do something to take care of himself, but the thought of his empty apartment made him feel sick.

He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. For a moment, he let himself imagine that Harry was still here—that the omega would come barging in with some ridiculous story or offer him a cup of tea he hadn’t asked for. He could almost smell Harry’s scent, almost feel the warmth of his hand on Louis’ arm.

But when he opened his eyes, the room was as empty as ever.

He clenched his fists, the dull ache in his hands reminding him that his body was starting to betray him again. The symptoms of alpha drop, which Harry’s presence had dulled to a manageable level, were already creeping back in: the sluggishness, the low-grade fever, the pounding headache that felt like a constant reminder of his failure as an alpha.

“Get it together,” Louis muttered to himself, his voice hoarse.

He threw himself into work, answering emails, reviewing reports, and barking out instructions to his team when necessary. But by midday, his focus was slipping. His thoughts kept drifting back to Harry: the way he would barge into Louis’ office unannounced, always with some ridiculous excuse; the way his laugh seemed to fill the entire room; the way his touch—light and fleeting—had eased the gnawing emptiness in Louis’ chest.

Louis hated how much he missed him. How much he needed him.

By the time evening rolled around, Louis was exhausted, but not in the way that sleep could fix. His apartment felt colder and quieter than usual, the loneliness tight on his throat like a physical weight. 

He lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling, and for the first time in weeks, the thought crossed his mind: What if I don’t come out of this?

Louis woke up feeling like he hadn’t slept at all. His muscles were stiff, his body sluggish, and the hollow ache in his chest was worse than ever. He shuffled to the kitchen, making himself a cup of coffee, but even the bitter heat of it did nothing to wake him up.

The day dragged on in much the same way. Every step felt heavier than the last, his movements slow and uncoordinated. His scent was dull, barely detectable even to himself, and the absence of Harry’s bright, comforting omega scent only made the emptiness more pronounced.

He tried to tell himself it was fine. Harry had every right to go on a trip. Louis wasn’t his responsibility. But the logical part of his brain was drowned out by the instinctual need clawing at his chest—a need for Harry’s presence, his warmth, his touch.

DAY TWO

Louis woke in a sweat, his sheets tangled around his legs. His heart pounded painfully in his chest, his body thrumming with restless energy that had nowhere to go. The ache behind his eyes had blossomed into a full-blown headache, and his muscles felt like they were made of lead.

He tried to get ready for work, but the effort of showering left him slumped on the bathroom floor, gasping for breath. His reflection in the mirror startled him—pale, hollow-eyed, and so unlike himself.

The phone buzzed on the counter, breaking his stupor. He reached for it, his fingers trembling as he opened the message.

Harry: Morning! How’s everything? I hope you’re not working yourself into the ground already.

Louis stared at the words, his chest tightening. Harry didn’t need to know how bad things were.

Louis: All good. You?

The reply came quickly.

Harry: Great! Meetings are a bit dull, but the food here is amazing. Don’t forget to eat, okay?

Louis stared at the screen for a long moment, Harry’s scent almost tangible in his mind. Don’t forget to eat. Harry’s gentle insistence echoed in his ears, but it wasn’t enough to get him to move.

By midday, Louis gave up on going to the office. He emailed his team, telling them he’d be working from home, though even that felt like a lie. His desk at home was cluttered, his laptop unopened. He spent the afternoon pacing his apartment, restless and suffocated all at once.

His senses were dulled—Alphas were meant to have an edge to their presence, but Louis felt like a hollow shell, empty and drained. His chest felt tight, his body sluggish. Every movement was an effort, his muscles aching as if he’d run a marathon in his sleep. 

The symptoms of alpha drop were in full force now, and the realization hit him like a brick.

He sent an email to his boss: Working from home for the next few days. Not feeling well.

He shuffled to the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee he didn’t even want. The scent of the brew was sharp and bitter, a poor substitute for the honey-sweet warmth of Harry’s scent.

Louis sat at his kitchen table, staring out the window. His thoughts were a mess, tangled and dark. He hated feeling like this—weak, dependent, broken. But the truth was unavoidable: Harry had become his lifeline, the only thing keeping the worst of alpha drop at bay. Without him, Louis was sinking.

His phone buzzed on the table. For a moment, he ignored it, too exhausted to care. But when he glanced at the screen and saw Harry’s name, something like hope flickered in his chest.

Hey, how’s it going? Hope you’re surviving without me!

Louis stared at the message, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. He wanted to tell Harry the truth, to admit how bad things had gotten, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Fine. How’s the trip?

The reply came quickly, as if Harry had been waiting for Louis to respond.

Tiring, but good. I miss my movie buddy though.

Louis smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

You’re an idiot, he typed back, but his hands were shaking too much to send the message. He put the phone down, his chest tightening again.

That night, as Louis lay on his couch, shivering under a blanket, he realized with a sinking feeling that he wasn’t going to make it through the week unscathed. Harry was his lifeline, his anchor, and without him, Louis was slowly but surely sinking.

DAY THREE

The evening air was cool, but Louis was burning. His feverish skin felt clammy to the touch, and the scent of his own body—faint, dulled by the alpha drop—was almost unrecognizable. The smell of weakness, he thought bitterly. The scent of an alpha falling apart.

His body screamed for relief, for grounding, for connection. He thought of Harry, and the thought was both comforting and unbearable. The image of Harry’s soft smile, the gentle way he spoke, the way his scent wrapped around Louis like a balm—it was all too vivid, too painful in its absence.

The ache in his chest turned sharp, radiating outward until it felt like his ribs might crack under the pressure. His breathing hitched, his vision blurring.

Get up, he told himself. You’ve handled worse.

But when he tried to stand, his knees buckled beneath him. Louis hit the floor hard, the shock of the impact rattling through his body. His vision swam, the edges darkening as the weight of his exhaustion bore down on him.

For a moment, he thought he smelled Harry’s scent—sweet and warm. He tried to focus on it, to pull himself back from the brink, but it was faint, a ghost of what he craved.

His chest rose and fell in shallow gasps as he lay on the floor, his body too weak to move. He closed his eyes, the ache in his chest deepening into something all-encompassing.

His mind drifted to Harry again, to the way his presence had eased this relentless pain. If Harry were here now, he’d kneel beside Louis, worry etched into his features. He’d reach out, his touch light and grounding, his scent wrapping around Louis like a safety net.

But Harry wasn’t here.

Darkness began to creep in at the edges of his vision, his body finally succumbing to the strain of three days without what it needed. Louis fought it, but his strength was gone.

Before the darkness took him completely, he thought he caught the faintest trace of Harry’s voice, imagined the omega’s warmth beside him.

But it was just a trick of his mind. Harry was hundreds of miles away. And Louis was utterly alone.

The last thing he felt was the coolness of the floor beneath him and the aching, hollow sense of something missing before everything went black.

Louis stumbled down the rain-slicked alley, his breath ragged and uneven. The world around him was a blur of shadows, fractured by the faint glow of a dying streetlamp overhead. His legs felt leaden, his head pounding with the rhythm of his faltering heart. The city’s hum had faded into a muffled drone, like he was underwater, drowning in his own body.

His hand braced against the damp brick wall for balance. He swore he heard a voice—a faint whisper carried on the cold wind—but the words were indistinguishable. He shook his head, trying to clear the fog that had settled in his mind. Maybe it was just the exhaustion. Or the hunger. Or the weight of weeks spent sinking into a pit he couldn’t climb out of.

And then he saw it.

At the end of the alley, a figure hovered in the dim light. For a moment, Louis thought it was a trick of his weary mind—a reflection or a shadow cast by the flickering lamp. But no. The figure was there. It was real.

And it was glowing.

His breath hitched. The light wasn’t harsh or blinding. It was soft, warm, and otherworldly, like moonlight distilled into a human form. The figure had no sharp edges, no clear lines, but it was familiar in a way that made Louis’s chest ache.

“Harry?” he whispered, his voice cracking.

The figure didn’t respond, but its face turned toward him, and for a moment, Louis forgot how to breathe. It was Harry. 

The same gentle features, the same sharp, mischievous eyes. The glow around him made him look almost angelic, as if the universe had taken him back only to send him here, now, in this moment, for Louis to see.

Harry’s head tilted, and for a moment, Louis thought he saw a smile—gentle, understanding, the way Harry used to look at him when he was trying to calm him down.

Louis tried to move, but his feet refused to obey. He stood frozen, his hand still pressed against the wall for support, his heart pounding so loudly he thought it might burst.

Harry—if it really was Harry—floated a few inches off the ground, his body weightless, unbound by the constraints of the world Louis was trapped in. His presence lit up the alley in a way that made everything else—the grime, the trash, the darkness—fade into insignificance.

Louis wanted to run to him, to reach out and grab hold before the vision disappeared. But he couldn’t. His legs wouldn’t move. His arms hung uselessly at his sides. All he could do was stare, paralyzed by the sheer beauty and impossibility of what he was seeing.

The figure’s lips moved, but no sound came.

“Harry,” Louis choked again, louder this time. His voice echoed off the walls, but the figure didn’t respond. Instead, it began to drift backward, fading slightly with each step it took.

“No,” Louis whispered, panic seeping into his voice. He tried to lurch forward, but his knees buckled, sending him crashing to the wet ground. The impact sent a sharp jolt of pain through his body, but he didn’t care. He clawed at the slick pavement, trying to drag himself closer.

“Don’t go,” he begged, his voice breaking. “Please, don’t leave me again.”

The figure paused, tilting its head as if considering his plea. For a moment, the glow intensified, bathing Louis in its warmth. He felt it seep into his skin, chasing away the cold that had settled in his bones.

But then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the light began to fade.

“No!” Louis shouted, his voice raw and desperate. He reached out, his fingers stretching toward the vanishing glow. “Harry, please!”

The figure’s face lingered for a heartbeat longer, a faint smile playing on its lips. And then it was gone, swallowed by the darkness of the alley.

Louis collapsed onto the ground, his body trembling. His vision blurred as tears streamed down his face, mixing with the rain that fell steadily from the sky. His chest felt hollow, like the light had taken something vital with it when it left.

He crumpled forward, his forehead resting against the cold pavement, his body wracked with sobs. “I’m too weak,” he whispered. “I couldn’t even reach you...”

His vision swam, black spots creeping in at the edges. His body felt heavy, his head pounding with each fading heartbeat. Somewhere deep in his mind, he thought he heard Harry’s voice—a faint, comforting whisper—but he couldn’t make out the words.

The words hung in the air, swallowed by the rain and the silence. His body grew heavier with each passing second, the weight of exhaustion pulling him down like an anchor. He felt the edges of his consciousness fraying, the world slipping further and further away.

“Come back,” Louis pleaded, his voice raw. “Come to me, angel. Please.”

As the darkness closed in, Louis thought he heard the faintest whisper—a voice he would have known anywhere.

“I’m still here.”

The cold seeped into his bones as the darkness claimed him, his last conscious thought a desperate plea: I need your glow to glow, Harry. I need it, or I’m not getting up again.

And then there was nothing.

DAY FOUR 

Harry had been restless the entire trip. At first, he chalked it up to the stress of work—long days, packed schedules, and the unfamiliar hotel bed. But by the third night, when he woke drenched in sweat and his body thrumming with an ache he couldn’t ignore, he realized the truth: his heat was coming early.

It didn’t make sense; he’d never been irregular before. But as he sat in bed, his heart racing and his thoughts hazy, the answer became obvious. Louis.

The alpha had been on Harry’s mind constantly—more than he wanted to admit. Harry had tried to convince himself it was just concern, the lingering worry he’d carried for weeks as he watched Louis battle whatever it was he refused to name. But now, with his body reacting so intensely, the truth hit him like a freight train. He didn’t just care about Louis. He wanted him. 

Wanted him to be more than a friend, more than a work buddy. Louis was the only one Harry wanted by his side.

The realization was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

But when Harry texted Louis that morning and got no response, the excitement turned to dread. By mid-afternoon, he’d sent three more texts and left a voicemail, all unanswered. Panic clawed at his chest. Something was wrong; he could feel it in his bones.

The hotel room was stifling. No amount of air conditioning could ease the heat radiating from Harry’s body. He sat perched on the edge of the bed, his phone clutched tightly in his hand. Louis’ number glared back at him on the screen. Still no response.

Louis. 

Alpha.

The name drifted to the forefront of his mind, unbidden. It was as if the thought of Louis had triggered something deeper, instinctual. Harry pressed his knees together, trying to shake the image of the alpha from his mind, but it was futile. 

Louis was always there—in his thoughts, in the way his scent lingered on Harry’s clothes, in the quiet moments Harry had spent with him over the last few months.

He stood abruptly, pacing the small room. His emotions were a jumbled mess, a tangled knot of worry, frustration, and other things he wasn’t ready to sort through.

“I should’ve stayed,” he muttered, running a hand through his curls. His scent was thick in the room now, a warm, honeyed sweetness tinged with the sharp edge of anxiety. Louis had looked tired the last time Harry had seen him, but when didn’t Louis look tired? He was stubborn to a fault, always brushing off Harry’s concern with a sharp remark or a sarcastic quip.

But this time, it felt different.

Harry grabbed his phone again, scrolling through their last conversation. His texts had been lighthearted, teasing, but now they felt hollow.

Louis: Fine. How’s the trip?

That was it. That was the last thing Louis had said to him. 

He sat back down, his hands trembling slightly. His body was getting worse, the heat building steadily, but he couldn’t focus on himself. Not when Louis wasn’t answering. Not when something felt wrong.

Harry thought back to all the little things he’d noticed but hadn’t pushed on. The way Louis seemed to fade into himself some days, his scent muted and hollow, as if he were barely holding on. The way he avoided touch, even the casual kind, as though it might break him. The way his hands sometimes trembled when he thought no one was looking.

And now, Harry was hundreds of miles away, unable to help.

The decision was made before he even realized he was reaching for his laptop. He’s going back - he has to.

-

Harry’s heart hammered against his ribcage as he raced down the hallway toward Louis’ apartment. His breath was shallow, his skin flushed with the heat that was slowly becoming unbearable. His senses felt heightened—every creak of the floorboards beneath his feet, the smell of the cold, sterile air of the building—but it was the absence of Louis' scent that was the sharpest, the most painful.

He had known something was wrong from the second his flight landed. The gnawing ache in his chest, the hollow emptiness that had slowly been creeping up on him since Louis stopped responding to his messages, felt more intense than any physical symptom of heat he had ever experienced. The closer he got to Louis' apartment, the worse it became. His wolf was uneasy, snarling in the back of his mind, demanding answers, demanding to be near Louis.

He fumbled with the spare key Louis had given him in the event of an emergency. The key shook in his hand as he unlocked the door, the weight of the moment settling heavily on his shoulders. Something was wrong. 

Something’s wrong with Louis.

The door creaked open, and Harry’s breath hitched in his throat. The apartment was eerily quiet. The faint scent of Louis was still there, but it was so weak, so faded, it sent a sharp pang through Harry’s chest. The smell was that of someone who had been starved for connection—weak and distant, a sign of the alpha’s isolation and deepening state of need. It made Harry’s chest ache.

“Louis?” Harry called out, his voice echoing in the stillness, a quiver in his tone. The silence that followed was deafening.

As he stepped further into the apartment, a strange and unnerving sense of dread gripped him. The living room was dark, curtains drawn tight, a stark contrast to the usual warmth of Louis’ space. Harry’s omega instincts kicked in immediately, the panic spreading through his chest. Where are you? 

He called out again, more urgently now. “Louis!”

He moved toward the kitchen, his eyes scanning the room, but it wasn’t until he reached the hallway and turned toward the couch that he saw him. Louis was slumped against the floor, crumpled in a heap. His body was limp, his face pale, and his breathing shallow and strained.

Harry’s heart leapt into his throat as he rushed toward him, his body reacting before his mind could catch up.

Louis was unconscious, but Harry could feel the faint rise and fall of his chest, hear the ragged breath escaping his lips. He could smell the faintest trace of Louis' scent—dull and cloying in the air. His alpha’s scent was weaker than usual, replaced by a faint trace of sweat, illness, and desperation.

Harry knelt beside him, panic welling up inside him. He couldn’t believe he had let it go this long, let Louis get to this point.

“Louis?” he murmured softly, his hands trembling as he reached out to touch Louis’ cheek. The skin was damp with sweat, clammy and hot to the touch. Louis stirred, but there was no clear response. His eyes flickered, but they were unfocused, unfixed, as though his mind were somewhere else entirely.

Harry’s heart lurched in his chest, his own instincts as an omega pulling him toward the alpha with a force that almost felt like a compulsion. 

He’s sick. He’s hurting. 

He needed to do something. 

Anything.

But as his fingers brushed over Louis’ forehead, a warmth that was both comforting and painful enveloped him. The part of Harry’s mind that wasn’t clouded by his own heat realization screamed to get closer, to comfort, to make everything okay, but Harry hesitated. 

He didn’t want to overstep. Louis hadn’t asked for this.

His breath hitched, his instincts pushing him closer, but Louis was still too weak to respond verbally. Instead, he reacted in other, more subtle ways. His fingers twitched, a slight movement beneath Harry’s hand. It was the smallest sign, but Harry knew—he could feel it—the touch had made a difference. Louis was aware, even if he couldn’t fully respond. He was reacting to Harry’s proximity.

Harry’s scent—rich with the sharp sweetness of his omega heat, now overpowering and needy—clung to the air around them. It was hard for him to ignore. His body was practically screaming for the closeness, for Louis.

The ache in his core deepened. His own heat intensified with every second he was near Louis, thickening the air, but he still stayed close, unwilling to pull away. His body tingled, his senses alive and prickling with the familiar scent of Louis' weakening presence.

“Louis… please,” Harry whispered, his voice cracking as he stroked the side of Louis’ face, brushing his fingers through the damp strands of hair.

Louis’ eyes fluttered open for a moment, their glassy surface searching, but still unfocused. His lips parted, a shallow, uneven breath escaping. Louis’ scent was more evident now, mixing with Harry’s own—an intoxicating blend of alpha and omega, of need and comfort. It was strange, how deeply Louis was affected by his proximity. 

The subtle shift in Louis’ scent became almost painfully apparent to Harry, the desperation of Louis’ need so unmistakable.

Louis let out a ragged sigh, his eyes half-lidded as he leaned instinctively into Harry’s touch. His body trembled with the slightest motion, but the response was clear. 

The thought hit Harry like a rush of heat: I want him. I need him. The words were raw, dangerous. But for the first time, Harry wasn’t afraid of what that meant. His wolf wasn’t panicked anymore; it was calm in the certainty of its desire. 

Louis is mine.

The rush of relief came too quickly, flooding Harry with the realization of just how deeply he felt for Louis—how much he needed him to stay by his side. And with that truth came another, even more undeniable one: I want him to be my mate.

Louis’ body, still trembling, seemed to lean further into Harry’s embrace. The subtle movements—his scent thickening with need, the way his head rested against Harry’s shoulder as if his presence was the only thing grounding him—told Harry everything he needed to know.

Louis had given in, in his own way, and Harry would do whatever it took to protect him from the dark, empty space his alpha was currently trapped in. He wouldn’t leave again—not now.

“Rest,” Harry murmured again, his voice thick with emotion, his scent rising to envelop Louis in warmth. “I’m here. You’re not alone.”

It was instinctual, deep within him—a primal need to protect, to care, to heal. The omega within Harry could feel Louis’ suffering keenly, the weakened state of the alpha. But it was more than just physical distress. 

Harry’s heart ached for him.

Louis needs me right now.

Harry gently brushed his fingers over Louis’ forehead, pressing his palm against the alpha’s clammy skin. Louis’ temperature was burning up, too high for comfort. Harry’s own temperature was rising as well, a subtle thrum of heat in the back of his mind, the scent of his own arousal becoming heavier in the air. But he ignored it. He knew what Louis needed, and right now, it wasn’t about Harry’s heat—it was about taking care of Louis.

Louis stirred again, his hands twitching slightly, his body reacting instinctively to Harry’s touch. Louis’ scent was tinged with an almost imperceptible note of vulnerability, a quiet surrender to the omega’s presence. There was a softness to him now, a brokenness that had stripped away his usual stoic alpha exterior.

“Louis,” Harry murmured softly, his voice low, reassuring. “I’m here. You don’t have to fight anymore.”

Louis didn’t respond with words, but Harry saw the way his body relaxed slightly. He could see the tension easing, his body going from rigid to slightly pliant as he surrendered to the care Harry was giving him.

Louis’ scent was bleeding out with the intensity of his need, and Harry’s omega instincts roared in response. It was like the bond between them was strengthening, even though they weren’t mates yet. Harry knew what he had to do to help Louis, and it would require more than just his words. He needed to comfort Louis in the most primal of ways—by marking him, by showing him that he was here, that he was safe.

With gentle fingers, Harry shifted, his movements slow, careful not to disturb the alpha too much. Louis’ eyes fluttered again, barely opening as if to fight the drowsiness threatening to pull him back into unconsciousness. 

The physical collapse was evident, but there was something more, too—the toll this alpha drop was taking on Louis’ mental state, too. He was so weak. 

Harry pressed a hand to Louis’ side, feeling the slight shudder run through his body at the touch. Louis’ scent shifted—becoming sharper, more distinct—and Harry could feel the tension return. His mind raced for a moment, wondering if he was doing the right thing, but then the need to ground Louis in him overtook the hesitation. The heat that had been simmering in Harry’s body, simmering under his skin, flared again. It was almost too much for him to handle, but he needed this. 

Louis needed this.

Harry’s nose brushed against the side of Louis’ neck, breathing in the mix of Louis’ fading scent with his own. He could feel the trembling beneath Louis’ skin, and instinctively, he leaned in closer, pressing his lips to the tender skin of Louis’ neck. The scent of his alpha was still clouded with the distress of his drop, but Harry’s scent overlaid it like a protective shield.

And then, Harry bit down softly.

The sharpness of the bite wasn’t harsh, but tender, marking Louis, staking his claim. Harry’s omega instincts rushed to the surface, urging him to ground Louis in the deep connection only an omega could provide during an alpha drop. He pulled back slowly, just enough to catch the soft breath of Louis’ scent—sweeter now, fainter with the slow return of Louis’ energy. Harry’s own scent was thick, almost overpowering with his heat, but it wasn’t just physical. It was emotional, too. 

His need for Louis was strong, undeniable, acting as a light in the dark.

The smells in the air flared—just for a second—stronger, more centered. It was as if the act of marking him had reminded Louis of his own strength. And even though Louis’ voice remained quiet, the look in his eyes, the soft exhale from his chest, told Harry that something inside him had begun to settle.

It was just the beginning.

Harry pulled Louis into his arms again, his body close but still careful, not pushing too much. He could feel Louis’ heartbeat beneath his fingers, a steady rhythm that had calmed ever so slightly, and the scent—now stronger and richer, tinged with the faintest hint of arousal—was enough to make Harry’s own body ache with longing.

But Louis needed more. He could still feel the deep, aching emptiness in the alpha’s scent, and instinctively, he pressed his own scent into Louis’, encouraging the bond to strengthen. With a soft, quiet motion, Harry moved to press his lips against the side of Louis’ neck once more. He was slow, deliberate this time—letting the connection build, letting his scent swirl around Louis’ and slowly, gently, making sure he could feel his presence.

Louis’ scent responded in kind. There was a flicker of awareness in his eyes when they met Harry’s again. But this time, it wasn’t hazy or distant. It was clearer.

“Harry…” Louis whispered, and the sound of his voice was enough to break the dam that had been holding Harry back from everything he had wanted to say.

“I’m here,” Harry murmured, his voice soft but firm despite his urge to cry. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His scent was almost completely aligned with Harry’s now—still faint in places, still in need of comfort—but it was undeniably more centered, more grounded in Harry’s protective embrace. Louis' alpha was responding, and Harry’s omega was there to guide him, to be the anchor.

The power of their connection—still tentative, still fresh—was enough to slowly pull Louis out of his drop but it would take time. Harry is patient, he’ll let the bond between them settle and grow stronger with every moment, every touch, every shared breath.

And when the time comes, when Louis is fully conscious and finally able to relax completely in Harry’s embrace, the omega knows that they were no longer just two people finding solace in each other’s company. They are something more.

Louis’ alpha had responded. And Harry’s omega had answered.

Harry hovered over Louis, watching the way his alpha’s body quivered beneath the faintest touch. Louis’ eyes flickered open for a moment, their hazy, unfocused gaze meeting Harry’s. He blinked twice, as though trying to bring Harry into clearer focus.

His nose brushed against the damp skin of Louis’ pulse point, and for a moment, he simply inhaled. And that was enough for Harry to feel the heat of possessiveness flare deep inside him.

He kissed the edge of Louis’ neck, just beneath his ear, as if to mark the space, a soft, reverent gesture. Harry’s omega instincts were still working overtime, a low hum of desire mixing with the urge to protect, to claim. He was signaling to Louis in the only way he knew how—that he was here, and he wasn’t leaving. Not now. Not ever.

Harry pulled back just enough to see Louis’ face. His eyes were still unfocused, but there was a glimmer of recognition—of warmth—there, a softening around his eyes, as though he could feel the care pressing into him.

A soft, tender bite—more symbolic than anything else, a quiet act of devotion. Louis didn’t pull away, didn’t flinch. 

The apartment was silent except for the soft hum of the heating unit in the background and the quiet sound of the alpha’s shallow breaths as he lay against Harry’s chest. 

Harry could feel his own heat tightening, pulling at him in waves, but he had forced himself to focus entirely on Louis. Everything else was secondary now, even the pulsing ache in his body. He had never been one to ignore his instincts, but right now, his priority was clear. Louis needed him; needed someone to ground him, someone to bring him back from the brink of this. 

And Harry was here to do just that, no matter what it took.

DAY TWO OF TAKING CARE OF LOUIS

Louis was barely conscious when Harry started, but he wasn’t concerned with immediate responses. His primary focus was the comfort and safety he could provide. He adjusted Louis in his arms, careful not to jar him too much. He could feel the heat radiating off him, a feverish glow that only grew more intense with each passing minute. 

He had no doubt that the alpha drop was still holding Louis in its grasp, making his body weak, his alpha instincts disoriented and distant. But Harry could change that — he knew he could.

As he sat with Louis, his hand lightly rubbing the back of his neck, Harry leaned in and breathed deeply. The air was heavy with Louis’ weariness, but Harry’s instincts are like a sparking live wire, and he allowed his omega traits to guide him.

He shifted closer, his nose brushing against Louis’ damp hair, inhaling his scent deeply before placing his lips softly against the skin of his neck. He knew that Louis would feel the imprint of his scent, even if he didn’t fully understand it yet. 

The faintest whimper left Louis’ lips as Harry’s breath ghosted over his skin, but Harry felt his body shift, his muscles relaxing into the contact. Without thinking, Harry licked the side of Louis’ neck, enough to leave his mark, a clear declaration. You’re mine to care for. You’re safe with me. 

He pulled back, but only enough to study the way Louis’ face had softened in his sleep, how his body had shifted just slightly closer to Harry.

It was a small thing, a quiet marking, but it was enough. Louis’ alpha scent was still dulled, but Harry could feel the edges of it stirring, fighting to surface again.

Harry didn’t leave Louis’ side. He helped him onto the couch, propping him up with pillows and wrapping a blanket around him. He leaned in close, letting his own scent—sweet and warm, tinged with honey—wash over Louis. He nuzzled into his neck, scent marking him gently, the way an omega might with their alpha.

Louis let out a low, broken sound, his body relaxing ever so slightly under Harry’s touch.

“There we go,” Harry murmured, his voice soft and soothing. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Louis’ breathing steadied a little, his head leaning toward Harry’s as if drawn to the comfort.

Over the next few hours, Harry worked tirelessly to care for him. He made tea, coaxing Louis to drink small sips. He fetched cool cloths for his fevered skin and stayed close, his scent saturating the space.

Harry didn’t leave, not even to sleep. He stayed curled up on the couch beside Louis, his scent drawing the alpha into safety. He cooked simple meals, spoon-feeding Louis when he was too weak to eat on his own.

Whenever Louis showed signs of agitation—his hands twitching, his breathing uneven—Harry leaned in close, letting his scent calm him. Sometimes, he rested his head on Louis’ shoulder, his presence a quiet reassurance.

Slowly, the alpha began to respond. His scent started to return, faint at first but gradually stronger, like the first rays of sunlight breaking through a storm. Harry felt it, the way Louis’ alpha instincts started to resurface—protective, possessive, and fiercely focused on Harry.

DAY THREE OF TAKING CARE OF LOUIS

The next morning, Louis was still weak but more aware of his surroundings, blinking slowly, his eyes unfocused as he tried to get a sense of where he was. His body was still on the edge of collapse, but Harry could feel the change, the shift in Louis' demeanor. His breathing had steadied somewhat, the sharp, shallow gasps slowing into more measured inhales.

"Louis," Harry whispered, his voice low but filled with warmth. "You’re doing so well. You’re a good alpha. You’re strong. I know this is hard, but you’re doing great."

The words were simple, but spoken with so much sincerity. He had seen him struggle so much, seen the cracks in his strength as he tried to carry the weight of everything alone. 

But now, Louis had Harry, and he wanted him to know that.

Louis’ eyes flickered, a slight tension visible in his brow, but Harry could feel him trying to process the words. He could see the way the alpha’s chest rose, just a little more steadily.

Harry’s omega hummed with contentment as he cupped Louis’ cheek gently, brushing his thumb over the warmth of his skin. He repeated, softly, “You’re a good alpha. You’re not alone. I’m here.”

The words seemed to settle into his skin, and Harry could feel his pulse slowing, his scent growing just a little stronger. He had made sure to scent the nest he had created for them to sleep in, making sure it was all around Louis during the night—gentle, sweet, grounding—and now, he added his voice to the healing process, reminding Louis that he was worthy of being cared for. That he’s allowed to lean on someone else.

A few hours later, Louis had managed to follow Harry into the living room – whining because he didn’t want to be alone. Harry had only been going to get water but the sounds of distress stopped him as he led his alpha over to the couch.

Louis struggled to find a comfortable position on the couch. He shifted in place restlessly, not fully able to relax, his mind still fighting against the pressure of the alpha drop. Harry watched him carefully, feeling his own desire to help growing with every moment.

Without a word, when another distressed whine filled the room, Harry climbed into the space next to him. He tucked himself close to Louis, offering his body heat to help comfort the still-cold alpha. He gently rested his hand on his chest, his fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of his shirt. 

Harry knew Louis couldn’t understand everything just yet, but he needed to offer something.

“You’re a good alpha, Louis,” Harry murmured softly, his voice low and steady. “You’re strong. You’re capable. I believe in you. You’re going to get through this. I’ll help you.”

There was a shift in Louis’ posture then. He didn’t move physically, but his body lighten as the tension in his chest eased, just a little. His scent, which had been muddled and faint, deepened with a subtle confidence that made Harry’s heart race. 

Louis’ alpha was still there, struggling against the drop, but now Harry could sense that small, flickering spark of control coming back. The protective instinct. The desire to fight for his pack—his omega.

The soft rumble of Louis’ growl filled the space between them as he leaned into Harry’s touch. The words Harry had spoken—simple as they were—had reached him. He’s starting to heal, and Harry purred a little at the thought.

“You’ll be alright,” Harry whispered again, his fingers trailing down Louis’ arm. The moment was intimate, but Harry didn’t pull away. The more he stayed close, the more Louis’ scent softened around him, the fierceness of the alpha drop dulling.

He had begun to eat a little more, and speak again with a faint strength in his voice. It was just short little one worded sentences usually consisting of omega, stay, cold. 

He knows the alpha had never been one to sit idly by, to accept weakness. Even in his state, his alpha traits were coming through—albeit in a quieter, more subdued way. His protective instincts were more evident now. When Harry stepped out of the room to try again to get him water, Louis’ eyes followed him, never fully letting Harry out of his line of sight.

The moment Harry returned, Louis’ body seemed to exhale in relief, his dominant aura wrapping around Harry with possessive warmth.

But it wasn’t just protection. Louis was becoming more attuned to Harry’s own omega scent, his own need to heal. His growing dominance was balanced by the softness Harry had been offering him—small gestures of tenderness that brought the balance back.

Louis’ eyes would soften when Harry spoke quietly to him, and when Harry reached out to touch his shoulder, Louis would lean into him with a gentleness that Harry hadn’t seen before, a tenderness in the face of such primal instincts.

It was slow. It was a quiet, steady progress. 

Harry never fully understood how an omega could heal an alpha, but now he did. It wasn’t just in the scent-marking, or the quiet words of reassurance. It was in the way their scents melded, in the way their bodies responded to each other. 

As the day wore on, Harry worked in tandem with his omega instincts, focusing on soothing the tension in Louis’ body, using soft words of encouragement and more scent marking. He made sure to stay close, to let Louis lean into him, to keep his body wrapped in warmth.

Harry’s voice was soft but firm as he pressed his palm over Louis’ heart. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. You’re still the alpha. You’re still you. Let me help you be whole again.”

Louis wasn’t as cold to the touch as he had been, and the fever that had burned through him the night before seemed to subside. Harry made it his mission to make sure the alpha could rest, but not in a way that would keep him isolated.

He stayed by his side, the scent of his body so thick around them both that it became a safety net, keeping Louis anchored to something real and grounding. Harry didn’t want Louis to feel alone, even if his alpha drop kept him from reaching out.

During the night, as Harry leaned in to scent mark Louis again, the alpha surprised him by tilting his head, giving Harry better access. Harry froze for a moment, his heart skipping a beat, before nuzzling into Louis’ neck. The low, rumbling sound Louis let out—somewhere between a growl and a purr—sent a shiver down Harry’s spine.

“You’re getting better,” Harry said softly, his lips brushing against Louis’ skin.

Louis’ rumbles louder, his growl soothing as Harry’s inner omega celebrates the progress its alpha is making.

DAY FOUR OF TAKING CARE OF LOUIS

By the fourth day, Louis had been in Harry’s care long enough that the shift in his body was becoming more pronounced. He still wasn’t fully recovered, but the signs of healing were impossible to ignore. Harry saw the change as much as he could smell it, and he had never been so attuned to another person in his life.

Louis’ presence filled the room with a subtle power, one that called to Harry’s omega instincts, making him ache to stay close, to keep helping, to love.

He still had moments of fatigue, moments where his body would crash into exhaustion, but his presence was stronger, more solid.  His protective instincts had taken full form.

It wasn’t just the way he held Harry close, never wanting to let go; it was in the way he claimed their space, their time. His heady alpha scent, sweet cinnamon,  thickened around them, marking the air together on the couch, and Harry could see it—the possessiveness, the need to shield Harry from everything, even from the smallest distractions. 

Harry had been talking about something trivial, but Louis wasn’t listening, not really. His focus was entirely on Harry, on the feel of the omega’s warmth beside him, the way Harry’s heat scent was growing more pronounced as they sat so close.

It was intoxicating, almost overwhelming. 

Louis’ hand moved, resting on the small of his back, fingers lightly pressing into the soft fabric of his shirt, claiming that space between them. Harry’s heart leapt at the joy floating through him at possessive urge, as if every touch, every movement was his way to tether Harry to him. To make sure the omega stayed close.

Harry shifted, a slight tremor running through him at the sensation of Louis' hand on his back. Louis felt it, and he watched his reaction closely, deep satisfaction on his face when he didn’t pull away.

If anything, Harry leaned in closer, turning his face toward Louis, displaying his scent gland. The unspoken understanding passed between them. Harry’s scent shifted, richer now, a little more urgent, like he could feel the pull of Louis’ dominance, like he was already accepting it, even without words.

Louis’ fingers tightened, pulling Harry a little closer. Mine.

The heat that his omega had put in the backseat to take care of Louis, started to warm again as the word echoed in his mind, but this time, there was no doubt about it. His body demanded it. It wasn’t just about claiming territory—it was about his alpha making sure Harry was safe, and that nobody could take him from him. 

It was also the need to provide. 

“You’re staying with me tonight,” Louis grunted quietly, his voice low, almost a growl.

It wasn’t a question; it was a statement. He needed Harry close. His scent was tinged with anxiety, sharp winter pine under the cinnamon, as if he really believed Harry was going to leave him. 

He leaned into Louis’ neck, giving him strong licks against the scent gland.

Louis’ chest rumbled, and he found himself being pulled even closer into Louis. He leaned down slightly, pressing his forehead against Harry’s, their breaths mingling in the space between them.

The smell of his heat mingled with Louis’ own scent, thick and heady in the air. They fit together perfectly, and Harry knows it’s more than just physical proximity.

Another sign that his omega was right. 

Louis is his.

“Good,” Louis murmured, the word almost reverent, as though saying it out loud sealed something between them. He could feel Louis’ heartbeat against his chest, steady and reassuring. 

-

Mine.

The thought was clear, concise, and powerful. 

Louis was an alpha, and Harry was his omega.

Louis could feel the traces of his old self returning—the self that had been an alpha before the drop had taken hold, before the numbness of separation from Harry had clouded his thoughts. His body didn’t just crave Harry’s scent; it needed it. He needed to be close, needed to assert his presence. It was the raw, instinctual need to claim what was his.

It wasn’t just about possession; it was about protection. I’ll keep you safe, Louis promised, though the words remain unsaid.

He could feel Harry moving around the apartment, his omega scent slipping into the room, soft and comforting, but also still tinged with the heat he hadn’t fully recovered from. Louis felt the intense urge to shield him from the world, from the very heat that made Harry so vulnerable.

But it wasn’t just that. The idea of Harry being out of his reach—being anywhere, with anyone—wasn’t something Louis could entertain. Not anymore. He wanted Harry near him, where he could protect him, where he could be everything he needed.

The old possessiveness was returning slowly, and Louis didn’t try to fight it. He let it settle into his bones, into his muscles, letting it push him to rise from the bed, even though his body still ached.

His body, though still fragile, was slowly waking from the haze of the drop. The fever had broken, and though his mind was still a little cloudy, his body’s alpha instincts were sharper now—more focused. He could feel them—the subtle twitches of his muscles as he moved, the deep, satisfying sensation of power and control returning. His scent, once weak, was thickening again, filling the room with the familiar musk of an alpha in their prime.

It felt good to have that strength back, to feel like himself again.

He noticed the subtle shift in Harry too. The omega had been cautious at first, not wanting to overstep, but now, Harry had settled beside him on the couch, the two of them together in silence. Louis could feel the tension between them, though it was not unwelcome.

There was a spark of something primal, in Harry’s eyes that sent a rush of heat through Louis' body.

“Harry,” Louis murmured, his voice a low growl. The dominance in his tone was unmistakable.

Harry blinked, his eyes flickering with the same heat Louis felt deep in his chest. He didn’t say anything at first, but the way his body subtly inched closer to Louis told him everything. 

Harry was aware. Aware of Louis’ needs, his desires, and perhaps—Louis dared to hope—aware of the feelings growing between them.

His hand instinctively brushed against Harry’s, a simple, small touch, but it sent a jolt of satisfaction through his body. His alpha instincts responded immediately, asserting dominance in the simplest way: with touch. Louis’ fingers curled around Harry’s wrist, drawing him closer, pulling the omega into his personal space.

“Stay,” Louis whispered, the command slipping from his mouth before he could stop it. But he didn’t want to stop it. He wanted Harry to stay. Wanted him close. The need grew stronger as the day wore on, and Louis found himself not just wanting Harry’s presence but requiring it.

His scent had thickened—rich, warm, and undeniably masculine. It filled the apartment whenever Harry was near, saturating the air like an invisible cloak, marking their space as something shared between them. Louis could feel his body responding to the changes in Harry.

The omega’s scent had become more pronounced, more urgent. 

Louis wanted to control the situation—wanted to take charge of Harry’s well-being, especially now, with the way Harry’s body was reacting to him.

It wasn’t just about keeping Harry near anymore—it was about meeting his omega's needs in the way only an alpha could. His mind was sharp and focused, every action calculated and purposeful. He didn’t want Harry to leave. He needed to keep him close, both to ease the nagging ache in his chest and to make sure Harry was cared for—kept safe from whatever dangers his own heat might bring.

When Harry mentioned going to the store to pick up some groceries, Louis couldn’t help himself. His voice was firm, purely commanding as he said, “I’ll go. You stay here.” 

It wasn’t about being controlling— his alpha wanted desperately to provide. He wanted to make sure Harry didn’t overexert himself. Wanted to ensure that Harry had everything he needed, without being put in a position where he might strain himself, especially now that he was so close to a full heat.

Harry raised an eyebrow, but the smile that followed was soft, almost amused. He could tell Louis’ need to protect had fully resurfaced, and he didn’t argue even though he knew Louis, as a person, was not fully back. 

Instead, he simply nodded. “Okay. I’ll be here when you get back.”

Louis could see the quiet appreciation in Harry’s eyes as he left the apartment. The briefest flicker of a smile made Louis’ heart skip, but his focus remained sharp. He was an alpha again, Harry’s alpha, and he’s now a part of his world in a way he had never expected. Louis is protective of him, fiercely so.

His mind raced with thoughts of what he could do next to help Harry, to keep him safe, to offer everything he could, knowing the omega was vulnerable.

When he returns, he’s hyper-aware of every subtle note change in Harry’s scent. There was something different in the air, a shift that seemed to mark the change between the early stages of the heat and the beginning of its peak. Harry was aware of it too, his scent growing sweeter, more desperate as Louis entered. The instinct to be close, to keep Harry grounded, surged in him.

Without thinking, Louis pulled Harry into his arms as soon as he stepped inside, burying his nose into his hair, inhaling deeply. The scent of heat and desire mixed between them, delicious and overwhelming.

“Are you okay?” Louis murmured, his voice rough with concern. His body was pressed tightly against Harry’s, unwilling to let him go.

The protective need in him lit as he held the omega close, his hands gripping Harry’s waist as if he could guard him from everything outside their little world.

Harry’s response was a quiet exhale, his hands resting on Louis’ chest, feeling the steady thrum of Louis’ heartbeat. It was as though, at that moment, they understood each other perfectly. Louis was his alpha now, and Harry’s response—submissive, yet equally present—made Louis’ chest swell with pride.

He was tired now though, wanting to lay down with his omega. Carefully, he picked the omega up, Harry yelping at the suddenness of it. He carried them to the nest Harry had made in his bed, and went to work marking the omega as his. 

Harry purred throughout, his alpha chuffing in response once everything was drenched in their combined scent. There was a floral scent though, wafting sweetly up from Harry – his face flushed and a little sweaty. Louis’ eyebrows furrowed, his nose flaring.

His omega is wet for him.

Louis’ eyes dilate as he presses his body down on top of Harry’s. A high whine comes out Harry’s red lips, his own eyes dilating. He closes them as he gasps shakily.

“Alpha, not yet. You’re still healing.”

He frowns. 

His omega is right, he can still feel the exhaustion in his body but his inner alpha is pacing inside him, conflicted.

“Bad. Bad alpha,” He whispers, his eyes tearing up. His distress must show on his face because Harry reigns in some of his sweet scent, and instead releases calming pheromones.

“Sleep, alpha. I’m taking care of you. You can help me later.”

Louis slumps, only closing his eyes when his nose is pressed against Harry’s neck. 

Omega.

Mine.

AFTER THE DROP

The light in the room felt blinding after days spent in darkness, and Louis squinted as he slowly sat up on the couch, trying to steady himself. His body felt strange, still sore from the ordeal, but something was different. Clearer, maybe. There was no more fog clouding his mind, no more aching emptiness biting at his core.

He inhaled deeply, tasting the scent of Harry in the air—comforting, grounding. Harry... 

Louis’ head spins, he hadn’t been alone in the room for days now, and his heart fluttered as a realization began to form. The intensity of his alpha traits had subsided, the thick, all-consuming need to protect and possess Harry lingering only as an undercurrent.

He turned his head toward Harry, who had been sitting by his side, the worry in his eyes still fresh, his shoulders taut from the anxiety of seeing Louis so broken just days before. 

Harry’s scent, stronger than before, closer, and that same strange pull in his chest—the one he had been fighting throughout his drop—comes back to the forefront. 

Louis could feel his wolf rising again, protective, possessive, almost feral with the need to claim his omega.

"What the hell, Louis?" Harry’s voice broke through the silence, low but sharp with concern. His green eyes were wide, almost desperate as he leaned forward. “Why didn’t you tell me it was this bad?” His words hit Louis like a wave, sharp and fast. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Louis blinked, the haze of confusion lifting slowly. He was still trying to piece together everything—what had happened, how long it had been, and where they stood now—but Harry’s frustration pulled him back into the moment.

"I didn’t... think it would get this bad," Louis muttered, feeling the heaviness in his chest again. His alpha side had been lying dormant for too long, overwhelmed by the isolation of the drop. He wasn’t used to being vulnerable, not like this. His instincts had always told him to be strong, to be the one who provided, who took control.

But now, sitting here in front of Harry, he felt like he had been stripped bare, laid out and exposed. “I... didn’t want to drag you into this.”

But Harry’s frown deepened, and he shook his head, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he spoke.

“Louis, don’t you get it? I was dragged into this.” His voice was strained, but it wasn’t just from anger—Louis could smell the undertones of concern mixed with something else—frustration, yes, but there’s more to it that he doesn't fully get. "You think I wouldn’t notice when you just... disappear, when you stop responding? I could smell it on you, the way your scent changed, how distant you got. The lack of... everything. I’m an omega, Louis. I feel that.”

Louis’ throat tightened, his chest aching at the vulnerability Harry was offering so freely. He’d tried to shield Harry from his problems, but he had underestimated how connected they had become. The connection between them was stronger than he had realized, and Harry had been right there, instinctively sensing everything.

“I wasn’t sure how to tell you,” Louis said quietly, his voice almost a whisper, filled with regret. "I didn’t want to seem weak. You were gone, Harry. And I... I thought I could handle it. But I couldn’t. I didn’t want you to think less of me.”

"You just shut me out, and I—I thought you were just being distant, but now…" He cut himself off, hands running through his hair in frustration. "I was this close to losing you and I didn’t even know what was really going on!"

Louis swallowed, guilt knotting in his stomach. He knew he should’ve said something—he knew he should’ve told Harry what was happening. He had never wanted to burden him, never wanted to admit how much he needed someone. 

But he also hadn’t known how much he needed Harry until now.

“Before I met you,” Louis began, his voice soft but steady, though there was a heaviness to it that seemed to drag him down further as he spoke. His eyes shifted to Harry, searching for understanding. “I’d been... dealing with it alone for a while. My alpha side—it’s not just the normal type of dominance or control or whatever people think of when they think of us. It’s more like... a constant pressure. A constant strain on my body. And for a long time, I didn’t know what was happening.”

He paused, trying to piece the words together. The air between them felt expectant, his heart pounding against his ribs. It was hard to admit, harder still to explain the crushing heaviness of it all, but he owed Harry this much.

“I didn’t realize how bad it was getting, not until I started noticing how little I was sleeping, how often I was feeling... off. Restless. Agitated. And it wasn’t just because of work stress or personal stuff, you know? It felt like my body was betraying me. I felt so... empty inside. There was this growing sensation, like I couldn’t fill a void no matter how much I tried.”

Louis closed his eyes, the memories of long nights filled with frustration and isolation threatening to overwhelm him.

"I wasn’t getting the contact I needed. The... touch. It was affecting everything—my sleep, my concentration. It was like I was drowning but no one could see it. I thought maybe it was something temporary. Maybe just a phase or burnout. But it didn’t stop. And it only got worse when I started withdrawing more.”

He swallowed hard, the words feeling like they were caught in his throat, but he had to keep going.

“It’s called an alpha drop. It’s when an alpha loses their balance, their sense of stability—emotionally and physically. And it can be triggered by a lot of things: isolation, too much stress, not having the right bonds... not getting the kind of connection an alpha needs. The one thing that helps us stay grounded is the presence of... of a mate or a strong emotional connection. A bond. Without it, our instincts—our need for control and connection—go haywire. And when I started feeling that way, I didn’t know what to do. I just... shut it out. It was easier to pretend it wasn’t happening.”

He drew in a shaky breath, and Harry moved closer, his presence soothing yet charged with the unease of hearing all of this for the first time. He wasn’t used to talking about this, to being this open, this vulnerable. 

“Then I met you,” Louis continued, voice quieter now. His thoughts were all tangled up with the events of the last few months. “At first, I thought it was just... you know, something new. Something temporary. A distraction. I didn’t realize how much I needed you—how much my body needed you—until it was already too late. You... you gave me something I didn’t realize I was missing. But I couldn’t bring myself to admit it. That was part of the problem. The longer I ignored it, the worse it got. When you weren’t around, it felt like I was unraveling all over again.”

He paused, his fingers tightening against the blanket. “I didn’t want to scare you. Didn’t want you to think I was weak. But I—I can’t pretend anymore. Not with you.”

His voice cracked at the end, and for a brief moment, Louis’ walls cracked too, letting the vulnerability flood in. He had hidden so much of himself for so long, but now Harry was here. 

Harry had seen him at his worst, and still—still, Harry stayed.

“I’ve been going through this... this drop for months, Harry. I kept pushing myself because I didn’t want anyone to notice. And when you left for your trip... it was like I was falling into the deep end. Everything got worse.”

Louis' throat tightened, the pressure in his chest returning. He could feel the telltale signs of his alpha side beginning to pulse beneath his skin, the dominant, possessive instincts sparking, responding to the shift in Harry’s presence.

"I tried to keep it together," Louis muttered, his eyes drifting to the floor. “But you weren’t here... and it felt like my whole body was shutting down. I couldn’t function, Harry. I couldn’t breathe without it feeling like something was missing.”

Harry’s expression softened, his brow furrowing as he reached out to gently touch Louis' arm. “Louis... why didn’t you tell me?”

Louis closed his eyes again, the shame threatening to overwhelm him.

“I didn’t think you’d understand. I didn’t want you to look at me like I was broken. And I couldn’t let myself... need you like that. But I needed you more than I realized. You—you—were the only one who could help pull me out of it, and I didn’t know how to admit that.”

Harry was silent for a long moment, his hand still resting on Louis’ arm, his scent, now stronger than ever, swirling around them. The warmth between them was palpable, a safe space where Louis allowed himself to be honest, allowed himself to feel.

“Louis,” Harry said quietly, “I don’t care about how you felt or how hard it was to admit. I care about you. And I’m not going anywhere. Not anymore. But I need you to trust me.”

Louis’ breath hitched at the sincerity in Harry’s voice, the truth of his words wrapping around him. It was more than he’d ever hoped for. More than he thought he deserved.

“I trust you,” Louis whispered, his gaze finally meeting Harry’s. “I do.”

Louis’ heart skipped a beat, and he instinctively leaned into Harry’s touch, his senses tuning in to the faint, comforting scent of Harry’s omega warmth. The sensation of being cared for, looked after, was so foreign, so tender, that Louis felt a lump form in his throat.

He closed his eyes, trying to steady himself, but Harry wasn’t done. Harry’s voice lowered, almost with a hint of disbelief. “You’re still not answering my question, Louis. Why didn’t you tell me how bad it was? You’ve been like this for days.”

Louis’ eyes snapped open, confusion clouding his thoughts. "What do you mean? Days?" He glanced at Harry, his brow furrowing. "I thought... I thought you were gone for a week."

Harry blinked, his own confusion flickering before realization swept across his face.

“I’ve only been gone three days. Three.” His voice cracked slightly, the strain from the past few days now apparent in his tone. “I came back early, Louis. I was scared because you weren’t responding. You’ve been down for five.”

Louis stared at Harry, the shock of the words making his head spin. “Three days?” 

His heart clenched, and his stomach turned in on itself. He had been trapped in his alpha drop for longer than he had realized. Had it really only been three days since Harry left? The days had bled together, stretching in his mind until everything felt like one long blur.

“I thought you were gone longer,” Louis murmured, his voice hoarse. He was still piecing together the time lost, but something in him ached as the gravity of it all settled in. Three days. Just three days, and Harry had come back for me. The realization made his heartbeat flutter, but it also brought with it an overwhelming sense of guilt.

He shook his head slightly, pushing himself upright with a slow, deliberate movement. His body was still weak, but the overwhelming sense of isolation had eased now, and something stronger, fiercer, was beginning to take its place. He had let Harry stay. He’d let him get close, even though his alpha had been on the verge of spiraling.

Louis finally found his voice, thick with emotion and confusion. “Why are you here? You should’ve been gone for the full week. You left early.” His eyes narrowed, trying to push the fog away. “Why didn’t you just let me deal with it on my own?”

Harry’s eyes flashed, the tension between them resurfacing. He didn’t answer right away, only gave Louis a quiet look, as if trying to find the right words. His scent had grown warm again, a faint trace of omega heat still clinging to the air like a soft, spicy undertone. It wasn’t fully present, but it was there—lingering, as though Harry hadn’t fully recovered either.

“I was scared, Louis.” Harry’s voice was low, rough with emotion. “Scared you weren’t going to make it through this. You didn’t respond to me for days. I tried to give you space, but then I couldn’t… I couldn’t just leave you like that. You—” He paused, running a hand through his hair, his scent shifting slightly with the mixture of frustration and relief. “You should’ve told me it was this bad.”

Louis’ mind raced as he tried to process Harry’s words, trying to comprehend what Harry was admitting. Something in his chest tightened painfully.

"But why?" Louis asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "You had a trip. You had work. You—"

His instincts told him to brush it off, to pull back and not let Harry see how much he’d been struggling, but Harry’s words hit harder than he wanted to admit. He was scared for me.

It was a truth that settled in Louis’ chest, and it didn’t feel like something he could easily shake off. 

Harry shifted closer, his eyes soft but intense, and Louis couldn’t stop himself from noticing the way Harry’s scent wrapped around him, comforting and tender. It reminded him of the past few days, of the quiet, healing moments they’d shared without saying much at all. Louis didn’t want to admit it, but Harry’s presence had been what had kept him grounded, had kept him from falling completely apart.

He could feel the connection between them, even now, as undeniable as the heat lingering in Harry’s scent.

Wait.

The realization hit Louis like a wave, his own alpha side surging forward in recognition. The scent. Harry—Harry hasn’t—

Harry inhaled deeply, the movement almost shaky. His omega scent spiked for a brief moment, filling the room with a mix of warmth and raw vulnerability. 

“I couldn’t stay away,” Harry finally said, his voice quiet but firm. His green eyes lifted to meet Louis’, and the intensity there made Louis’ breath hitch. “I tried, Louis. I really did. But I—” He broke off, shaking his head as though the words wouldn’t come. “I couldn’t focus, couldn’t think about anything except you. My omega... it went into heat, Louis. Early.”

Louis’ eyes widened, his mouth parting in shock. “What?”

He could smell the faint traces of heat still clinging to Harry, his omega instincts flickering beneath the surface, and Louis knew that Harry needed him, maybe more than he’d realized.

“It started halfway through the trip. I thought I could handle it, but it wasn’t just a normal heat. It was... different. Stronger. My omega kept—” He faltered again, cheeks flushing a deep pink. “It kept calling for you. I couldn’t shut it out. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, about how you needed me. I—”

His fingers curled into the blanket, his body trembling slightly as he processed what Harry was saying.

“Harry,” he murmured, voice low and thick with emotion, “you should’ve stayed home. You were going into heat, and you—”

“I couldn’t,” Harry interrupted, his voice stronger now, his expression fierce. “Don’t you get it, Louis? My omega wasn’t just calling for you because you’re important to me. It was calling for you because you’re mine. My mate.”

The words hit him, and for a moment, all he could do was stare at Harry, his chest heaving as his alpha side gets even more wild and possessive at the revelation.

“Your mate,” Louis repeated, unable to wrap his head around it. 

He had been so focused on surviving his own drop, on keeping Harry at arm’s length even while he needed him so badly, that he hadn’t considered what Harry might be going through.

But hearing it now—made something inside him crack open, softening him in a way that was both terrifying and profound.

Harry nodded, his cheeks still flushed, his fingers twitching against Louis’ arm.

“I didn’t realize it at first. I thought it was just the heat, but it wasn’t. I had to come back. I had to—” He broke off again, his gaze softening as he searched Louis’ face. “Because I couldn’t stand the thought of you being alone, of you hurting, and not being there to help. My omega... it needs you, Louis. And I—I do, too.”

Louis' breath caught in his throat. "I... I don’t know what to say," he admitted, voice trembling. His body was reacting to the closeness of Harry’s presence, to the heat that was still lingering in the air. He could feel Harry’s longing, his need, and it mirrored his own. "But... why did you wait to tell me?" Louis asked, his voice thick with emotion. "Why not tell me sooner?"

Harry’s gaze softened, his hands now resting on his knees, fingers clenched tightly. "Because I wasn’t sure. I thought maybe I was just... just reacting to something, you know? That I was just desperate to make sure you were okay. But now... now I know. It’s you, Louis. It’s always been you."

Louis felt like his heart might burst. His alpha instincts respond to the unspoken call between them.

“You came back for me,” Louis murmured.

Harry’s lips quirked into a faint, bittersweet smile.

“Of course, I did. I couldn’t stay away. I didn’t want to.” He paused, his hand finally slipping from Louis’ arm to take his hand instead, their fingers lacing together. “Louis... I know you’ve been going through hell, and I know I’ve helped a little, but I wish you’d told me how bad it was.”

Louis’ gaze dropped, shame flickering in his eyes. “I didn’t want you to think I was weak,” he admitted quietly. “I didn’t want you to think I couldn’t handle myself.”

 “Weak?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. Harry’s grip on his hand tightened. “Louis, you’ve been carrying this for months—maybe longer—all on your own. That’s not weak. That’s... That’s heartbreaking. You didn’t have to do this alone. I would’ve been here. I am here.”

The sincerity in Harry’s voice sent a shiver down Louis’ spine, and for the first time in weeks, he felt like he could breathe again.

“You’re not alone anymore,” Harry continued, his voice softening. “Whatever this is—whatever you’re dealing with—we’ll face it together. Because you’re mine, too. My omega chose you, but so did I.”

Louis’ throat tightened, his vision blurred as emotion flowed within him. Harry had saved him, not just by coming back, but by choosing him, by seeing him when he had been at his lowest.

He tightened his grip on Harry’s hand, his voice rough with emotion as he replied, “You saved my life, Harry. And I’ll spend the rest of it proving to you how much that means to me.”

FUTURE

It had been months since the night everything had changed between them—the night Louis had finally admitted the depths of his struggles, and Harry had listened, had seen him in a way no one ever had before. Things were different now.

Louis stood by the window, watching the sun dip below the horizon, casting the sky in shades of gold and pink. His fingers lightly brushed over the surface of the glass, tracing patterns absentmindedly.

The faint scent of Harry’s cologne lingered in the air, and Louis closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply. It had become as familiar to him as his own.

He could still remember the way Harry had looked at him when he finally returned, the concern in his eyes mixed with something else—something Louis didn’t understand at the time, but now, he recognized it for what it was. Harry had been terrified that he might lose him. Louis had been terrified of the same thing.

But they’d come out of it, together.

The door creaked behind him, and Louis didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Harry’s presence filled the room without a word, and Louis’ senses were alive to every shift in the air, every breath Harry took. It was just part of what had become their quiet rhythm—the soft exchange of space, the subtle understanding between them.

Louis exhaled slowly and turned to face Harry, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

It was real now, everything they had. It wasn’t just about the touch that had once felt like a lifeline or the overwhelming need to fill the void in his body and soul. It was more than that. It was the quiet comfort in knowing Harry was there, the reassurance that he didn’t have to carry his burdens alone anymore.

"You know," Louis began, his voice low and reflective, "I’ve been thinking a lot about how it all started. How bad it got, before you—before I let you in." He paused, his gaze meeting Harry’s. "I didn’t realize just how much I was... shutting myself down. I didn’t know what it would cost me to ignore my instincts for so long. And when you came back that day, when you found me…You saved me, Harry. You saved me when I didn’t even know I needed saving."

Harry’s gaze softened, but there was no pity in his eyes—just an unwavering certainty. He took a step closer, his hand brushing against Louis’ as he stood at his side, offering a silent reassurance.

"I didn’t save you," Harry said quietly, his voice warm. "You saved yourself. I was just there to catch you when you fell."

Louis chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I don’t know if I would have made it through, though," he admitted, his tone thoughtful, vulnerable. It comes a lot easier now with Harry by his side. "I thought I could handle it on my own, but I wasn’t just dealing with... my symptoms. I was fighting myself, fighting the part of me that knew I needed someone. I was shutting down, Harry. And you—you didn’t make me feel weak for it. You made me feel seen."

Harry’s hand found Louis’ and squeezed gently, his thumb brushing over Louis’ knuckles in that quiet, intimate way that had come to mean so much between them.

“You’ll never be weak to me, Louis. You’re... you’re everything."

The words were simple, but they carried so much. And as Louis looked at Harry, really looked at him, he could feel it all—the love that had grown between them, not just from proximity or need, but from a deep, unspoken understanding. It was a connection forged through pain, through vulnerability, and through a willingness to show up for each other when it mattered most.

Louis’ mind drifted back to those first days after Harry had returned, when he’d been so raw, so unsteady. The exhaustion from the alpha drop had faded over time, but the remnants of it—of that overwhelming need—had never really left. It had only changed. It had become something else, something more. And that something had been Harry.

"I don’t know where I’d be without you, Harry," Louis murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I really don’t. I don’t even think I could imagine a life without you in it. You... you brought me back to life."

Harry’s eyes softened, his thumb still moving over the back of Louis’ hand, creating little circles that made Louis’ heart thrum in his chest. He didn’t need to say anything more. Their bond had already spoken volumes, had already proven that they didn’t need to ask for anything—they just needed each other.

And in that moment, as they stood together, their history, of everything that had happened, everything that had brought them here, seemed to melt away.

It wasn’t just about surviving anymore—it was about living, about sharing a life with someone who had saved him, not just from the physical symptoms of an alpha drop, but from the loneliness, the isolation, and the fear that had once held him prisoner.

Louis closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in the familiar scent of Harry, of their shared space, and he felt something inside him settle. 

Something deep, something right.

"I never thought I’d be here," Louis murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I never thought I’d be able to trust someone like this, to be so... open. But you—you made it possible. You gave me a reason to believe that maybe... maybe I’m worthy of love, of this."

Harry stepped forward, pulling Louis into an embrace that felt like the culmination of everything that had come before. Louis melted into it, his alpha instincts finally at peace, knowing that Harry was there. That he had always been there, even when Louis hadn’t known it.

"You don’t ever have to doubt that again," Harry whispered, his voice warm and steady in Louis’ ear. "You’re everything to me, Louis. Always."

And Louis, for the first time in his life, truly believed it. He had never thought it was possible to feel this whole, this complete, but Harry had made him realize that it wasn’t just about surviving the darkness—it was about finding the light, together.

And that light, that warmth, would never fade again.