It's Getting Better [Larry Stylinson]

Chapter Two

Harry scuffed his dirty trainer against the pristine-white floor of the hospital, his body numb and his mind clouded with the famous 'What If's'.

Like, what if he hadn't been born? Maybe Des wouldn't have hit his mum with the baseball bat. She wouldn't be lying in that hospital bed in the dank room just metres away from where her young son sat. Maybe Des was right; it was all Harry's fault.  

"Mr Styles?" Harry glanced up. A middle-aged woman kit in a light blue nurse's uniform stood before Harry, and the boy quickly wondered why they wore such bright and cheerful uniforms when they were surrounded by people who were dying and being ill.  

"Yes," was all Harry could nod in response. He really wasn't in the mood for being polite and social.  

"Your mum hasn't regained consciousness yet, we are sorry to say. The blow she took to her head was pretty major, so for now she is under constant monitoring. A nurse will be with her throughout the day and the night so you have nothing to worry about." She sat down next to the skinny figure of the boy, giving him a sympathetic glance. "You look tired. You should get some rest - is there any family we can call for you?"  

"No," Harry quickly shook his head, chocolate curls bouncing and reflecting the garish glow of the ceiling lights. "They all live far away." That was somewhat true; his closest relatives lived in Middlewich - a town near Holmes Chapel - but Aunt Clarice was extremely stuck up and had a tendency to look down her nose at everyone, and Uncle Terry wasn't much better. No, Harry would be fine on his own. 

"Would you like to see your mother?" Harry sighed, mulling things over in his head. 

"Okay," he nodded after a moment, following the nurse across the room.

Harry had to bite his lip hard to prevent the scream threatening to leave his lips at the sight of his mum. Her head was bandaged, dried blood coming through the white material. Her eyes were closed, her arms wired up to many machines surrounding the white bedsheets which looked too complex for Harry to even begin to understand. The sight made his stomach lurch, and he allowed his eyes to flutter shut for a few moments before slowly opening them again. 

"I know it looks bad, but we're doing everything we can for her," the nurse said comfortingly, patting the taller boy on the back. He took a wobbly step towards the bedside, slowly outstretching his hand to clasp around her smaller, lady-like ones. 

"Hey mum," Harry whispered. "It's Harry." He sucked in a breath, blinking hard to rid himself of the tears threatening to overspill. "We'll get you out of here, yeah? Go get some revenge on the bastard who did this to you." His fingers tightened their grip momentarily as anger filled his chest, wondering where Des was now. Drowning somewhere hopefully, Harry thought to himself bitterly.

Half an hour later, the boy finally had to pull himself away due to his rumbling stomach and the sickly feeling enveloping him. He rounded several corners, desperately looking for a sign which might point him in the right direction. Finally, he reached the end of the wide corridor, noticing with a slight uneasiness the constant smell of chemicals following him wherever he went; and the glaring glow of the white wall which was giving him a minor headache. He rounded the corner with speed - only to walk straight into someone heading in the opposite direction. Harry felt a burning sensation spreading through his shoe, and he quickly glanced down to see a polystyrene cup lying next to his foot; the contents slowly seeping through the material of his shoe.  

"Oh God, I am so sorry," Harry yelped - not only had he left a potential bruise on the stranger but he'd now deprived him of his drink too.  

"Not a problem," a chirpy voice replied, and Harry was surprised how light and gentle it sounded. He glanced up slowly, taking an intake of breath as wide green eyes met with shocking blue. To say he was beautiful would be an understatement; he had the most intricate jawline Harry had ever seen, light stubble accentuating his unblemished skin. Light brown hair framed his face; feathered and sticking up all over in a style which could only be described as messily perfect. Harry let his eyes flicker down; admiring the slightly shorter man's almost outrageous style. He was kit in bright red chinos, a white T-shirt with navy blue stripes and white suspenders slung low on his shoulders, blue Toms enveloping his feet. 

"Have you quite finished staring?" The voice snapped Harry out of his trance, and his cheeks quickly turned from pale to full-blown blush.  

"Sorry, I-" He was cut off by a booming laugh, and he let the corners of his mouth form a smile.  

"I might forgive you if you let me buy you coffee," the stranger winked, an almost pleading look in those ocean blue eyes.  

"You mean if I buy it, seeing as I'm the one responsible for the, uh... spillage," Harry retorted, a smirk playing on his lips.  

"Whatever rocks your boat," the man shrugged. "I'm Louis by the way, what's your name?" Louis. What a perfect name. 

"M'Harry," he smiled, dimples showing. "Nice to have bumped into you." Another booming laugh escaped Louis' mouth which Harry quickly reciprocated, and the two quickly found themselves engorged in deep conversation as they made their way to the cafeteria.

--

"So what are you doing here?" Louis questioned, peering at Harry curiously as he stirred his coffee. 

"Uh... It's a long story," Harry said carefully, worried that mentioning how he actually ended up here would scare his new-found friend off. He didn't have many; after all, why would anyone want to be friends with him? 

"I've got time," Louis said gently. "You don't have to, obviously." He smiled that beautiful smile that made the corners of his eyes crease and made his eyes twinkle, and Harry wasn't sure what it was that made him so trustful of the man he'd just met but he soon found him recounting the story which had taken place only hours earlier - leaving out the more intricate details for another time.

When Harry finally finished, Louis simply sat there with a slight mistiness in his eyes. 

"Oh, God, Harry... That's horrible," he exclaimed. "Your dad actually hit you?" He lowered his voice to hushed tones, which Harry was grateful for. He simply nodded. 

"Wait but - where is he now? And is your mum okay?" A flurry of questions escaped Louis' - who Harry had found out was twenty one years of age - mouth, and the younger boy quickly found himself smiling at how the man seemed to genuinely care so much about him. It was an unfamiliar feeling to the boy. 

"He just walked out," Harry leant back against the metal chair he was sitting on, wincing slightly as the damaged flesh pressed against the thin material of his T-shirt. He noticed Louis' concerned gaze following him and he quickly continued before any questions could be asked. "I've got to give a police statement tomorrow - that'll help them track him down, hopefully." Harry took a deep breath before continuing. "And about mum... Honestly, at this stage it's impossible to tell." He smiled wryly, trying not to think about the consequences if... Well, it just didn't bear thinking about. Louis nodded sympathetically. 

"I'm sorry," he sighed. "No one should have to suffer all this. Especially when the sole reason you're here is 'cause of your twat of a father - forgive my French."  

Harry chuckled humourlessly, appreciating Louis' attempts at making him feel better nonetheless. 

"Anyway, why are you here?" Harry suddenly thought, feeling slightly guilty that he hadn't thought to ask before now. 

"My little sister - Lottie - fell off her bike and broke her arm. Nothing serious, really I just come to keep her company. Mum's with her at the moment, so I thought I'd treat myself to a drink," Louis smirked at Harry. 

"Yeah... Sorry once again about that," the boy grinned, dimples showing as green eyes sparkled. "I hope your sister's okay though. How old is she?" 

"Twelve, they grow up so fast," Louis smiled, his eyes glazing over slightly as he thought. 

"I've got just the one sister. Gemma. Haven't seen her for ages, she went away to university at the beginning of this year. I haven't broke the news to her yet," he sighed.  

"Do it," Louis said suddenly. "She deserves to know. I'd kill someone if I wasn't told about... Well, y'know." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a white iPhone, thrusting it into Harry's hands. The younger boy stared at it for a moment before finally coming to his senses, giving a grateful nod to Louis as he tapped in the number.  

"Add yourself to my contacts while you're there," Louis added with a wink.