When Hate Turns To Love

Harry Styles is a 16-year-old Jew. He lives with his mother, Anne, and they've managed to hide from the Nazis for quite a while. But, one night, while Harry is asleep in a little side closet, a group of German soldiers come in and steal his mum away. Heartbroken, Harry packs up his few belongings and heads to Auschwitz, hoping that he'll be able to save her.

Louis Tomlinson is an 18-year-old Nazi, and he sees Jews as the scum of the earth. He's doing night patrol when he sees a curly haired boy speaking with a Jewish woman through the fence. Disgusted, he drags the Jew back to his house, planning to use him as his personal slave. But, when his friends bring over another Jew, mistreating both young boys, Louis feels protective, jealous, and guilty. What will happen when Louis' hate for Harry turns to love? Will They be able to hide it long enough to go to America? Or will it all end on a battlefield?


7. Chapter 7

I wake up as the sun shines through my window, stretching to my full height. A small groan leaves my lips as my back pops, my muscles tightening and relaxing as I flop back onto my pillow.
"I don't wanna get up," I mumble to myself, dragging out the 'u' in 'up'. "But I have to wor- Wait... No, I don't! But I have a guest... Ugh."
I manage to drag myself out of bed, practically crawling to the guest room. Upon opening the door, I see that Ashton is sleeping peacefully, not even visible beneath the many blankets piled onto her. Stumbling out into the kitchen, I carefully crack a few eggs into a pan and pour some wheat flakes and milk into bowls, sprinkling sugar over the top and scrambling the eggs in the process.
"Oh, the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful," I sing, quickly plating the eggs, browning toast, and pulling stools out from under the bar. "And since we've no place to go..."
"Let it let, let it let, let it let," Ashton exclaims, scaring me out of my wits.
"Oh, food! Yum!"
I clutch my chest, breathing heavily and trying to get my heartbeat back to normal. As I'm calming down, Ashton takes a seat on the purple stool, reaching for a fork and digging it into the eggs.
"I terrified you, didn't I?"
"N-no. Just inhaled some, uh, pepper...," I defend, coming to sit next to her, not meeting her eyes.
"Black pepper?!"
I nod, confused as I look at her. Suddenly, her fork is hitting the plate, and she pushes it as far away as she can reach. She shoots me a small smile, a light blush painting her cheeks.
"Uh, I'm sorry, but... Um... I can't eat that...," she says, a quiet laugh surfacing. "I'm allergic to black pepper..."
I instantly bow my head. Of course. I should have known to check if she was allergic to anything before going and cooking for her. At least I didn't use any pepper last night.
"No, I'm sorry. I should have asked first," I mumble, taking the plates to the trash and dumping them. "I don't really like scrambled eggs anyway."
"Hey," she says, gently rubbing my shoulder. "Don't feel bad. At least you were able to respond before I ate any... Besides, the only thing that really happens is I get hives. As long as you didn't use pepper in the cereal, I'll eat that."
Her voice is joking, and I smile lightly. We continue breakfast without any other threats to our health, and we actually learn a lot more about each other. The small things that we didn't ask about last night. Like, her favorite color is green, and she can play piano. 
After an hour or two, I excuse myself for a smoke, standing on the back porch. The smoke fills my lungs, yet clears my mind. I enjoy the tranquility for a few minutes before a quiet call of pain attracts my attention to the kitchen. Ashton is holding onto her head, leaning against the table. She starts swaying, and I run quickly towards her, calling out.
"Unh... Um...," she slurs, suddenly crumpling to the floor, her face pale, and her skin feeling as if it's on fire. 
I struggle to hold in my whimpers as Louis grips the rope, causing it to dig even tighter into my wrist. His hands make quick work of the knots, but tears are falling in torrents down my face as he tugs me into a sitting position. His eyes widen at the blood soaking my sleeves, and he pulls off both his and my shirts, discarding mine and using his as a cloth to soak up the pouring blood.
"Oh no... It's dug into your skin," Louis mutters, gingerly touching the soaked loops around my arms. 
He goes to pull the rope out of my left wrist, put just one small tug and I'm recoiling, sobs escaping my lips. His eyes show worry and remorse, things a Nazi never feels when looking at a Jew like me. He slowly takes my arm into his hands again before grabbing a fluffy pillow and placing the corner in my mouth.
"Just bite down on this when it hurts. I'm sorry, but this has to come out. I have to clean it."
I look into his blue eyes, trying to detect any sense of malice. All I can detect is urgency, so I take the soft material between my teeth, nodding when he looks at me to see if I'm ready. He releases the first inch of rope from the grip of my blood-covered skin, and I can already feel the fabric of the pillow tearing as I sob.
"I'm sorry. Sorry. So sorry," he murmurs, his rough hands working carefully with my bonds. 
When Louis finally gets both wrists out, cleaned, and bandaged, he pulls on the pillow to tell me I can let go. But the corner stays in my mouth. I blush at my low pain tolerance, cursing myself for ruining his property. He's probably going to hurt me now.
"Quite a strong mouth, aye?," he says, simply removing the extra piece of fluff from my mouth. "Don't worry. I won't hurt you. That was Granny June's pillow anyway. You did me a favor, actually."
He places a soft kiss to my forehead, causing a strange stirring that I only get in my dreams. He pulls back, and we stare into each other's eyes for a few minutes. A soft smile paints his face as he pulls me into a hug, my startled arms wrapping around his waist. Our embrace is soon interrupted by a sharp knock on his front door.
"Louis! Lou, help! C'mon!"
P.S. Comment please?? I'll go back to 5+ comments...

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