next to you ❀ l.s.

twelve - look after you

"I want it. I want it," Harry mumbled, his fingers twisting unconsciously in the sheets. He jerked again, nearly slamming his head back against the wall. "I'm sorry, I want it. No, please . . ."

Louis must have fallen asleep against the wall, still sitting up with Harry's head in his lap. He woke with a start at the sound of Harry's muffled voice, along with the boy's body thrashing wildly against his own. He rubbed his eyes, squinting through the thick darkness that now blanketed the room, and his consciousness slowly drifted back.

Harry was still flailing and muttering. Louis shook his shoulder gently, his voice low and raspy with sleep: "Harry, wake up. It's just a dream, love, please wake up."

It didn't take much to rouse Harry from his nightmare. He woke with a sharp intake of breath, sitting straight up and nearly knocking Louis's head back against the wall. He scrambled back against the wall, still tangled in the sheets, breathing hard.

When his eyes locked with Louis's, he promptly burst into tears.

And Louis panicked. "Oh, please don't cry," he whispered brokenly, his own voice wavering slightly at the heartbreaking sight. His head spun with uncertainty -- he didn't want to distress Harry further, but he needed to comfort him somehow. His mind flashed back to that afternoon: touching always makes me feel better.

So, despite the warning signs flashing in the back of his mind, Louis reached for Harry's shaking figure in the darkness, closing the distance between them. He gently gathered the trembling boy to his chest, stroking his curls tenderly. Harry just cried and cried, clinging to Louis's shirt with both hands.

"Shh, shh. It's okay, you're okay. I've got you, it was just a dream," Louis spoke softly, hoping to soothe the hysterical boy with his nonsensical words. "I'm right here, love. I won't let anything happen to you."

Harry didn't respond; his body shuddered against Louis's solid frame, and he hiccuped, a brief pause between his choking sobs. Louis just held him close, not exactly sure how to proceed.

"Does this happen often?" he wondered aloud, thinking back to the night that Harry had come to sleep in his flat after a nightmare. He himself hadn't had a bad dream since he was a kid, but it seemed like a common occurrence for Harry.

Harry didn't stop crying.

"Okay, okay. Don't worry, you're okay." Wracking his brain for anything he could say to distract Harry from his nightmare, he commented offhandedly, "Your feet are always so cold."

To his surprise, Harry quieted down fairly quickly, engulfing the small room in eerie silence for a few moments. He sniffled a few times. "I don't like to wear socks," he admitted softly, nuzzling against Louis's neck for a bit of comfort.

Louis hummed curiously, shushing the crying boy gently when he hiccuped again and rubbing his back soothingly. "Why not?"

"I like to feel the floor." His shaky voice dropped even more in volume, barely louder than a whisper. "I need to."

What?

Louis furrowed his brow in confusion, his fingers still tracing soothing circles on Harry's back. "Well, my mum actually makes socks for me and my siblings every Christmas. Super soft and fuzzy and warm. They'd be a perfect cure for your freezing toes," he reasoned, hoping to lift the heavy mood that suffocated the small room.

Silence.

Studying Harry's face to gauge his reaction, Louis confessed cautiously, "Liam told me a little bit about what happened last night."

"He didn't rape me," Harry responded simply, his voice monotone and desensitized. At least he had stopped crying.

Louis's frown deepened, more concerned than confused. "He didn't?"