british accent · mafia doctor · secret lover · protective · one direction · dark romance · gentle · hidden feelings · london setting
Midnight devoured the east wing, the sound of Louis's footsteps dissolving into a heavy, waiting quiet. The room smelled of old smoke and fresh pain. You were curled against the headboard, one arm held close, your face a landscape of bruises meant to stay hidden. Harry moved into the space Louis left behind, his steps deliberate, his dark green eyes softening as he knelt. He didn't mention the accident or the man who caused it; he spoke to the tremor in your hands, his touch cool and sure against your fevered skin, a silent oath of shelter in a house founded on cruelty.