next to you ❀ l.s.

twenty six - don't let me go

Louis didn't stand from the floor until Harry had completely stopped crying, his chest rising and falling somewhat steadily against Louis's own. He had to shift Harry's weight slightly in his lap as he stood, and the younger boy inhaled sharply, his body tensing in surprise as he grasped at Louis's shoulders for purchase.

"Just gonna put you to bed now, love," he said reassuringly, his voice soft and gentle. "You're shivering. You'll be much warmer in bed."

With some effort, he bounced Harry's body in his arms, shifting the younger boy sideways onto his hip like some overgrown child. The thick fog of demons in the closet had disappeared, and the two boys now had a sort of protective bubble formed around them, safe and comforting yet fragile and delicate.

Harry only held on tighter. "D-Don't --"

"I'm not going anywhere, H," Louis promised, taking the words right out of Harry's mouth. He carried the younger boy slowly out into the bedroom, and the warm light flooding in through the window caught him off guard, a harsh reminder that it was still the middle of the afternoon on a Tuesday. "Don't worry. I've got you."

He somehow managed to climb into bed without ever setting Harry down, falling back onto the mattress with the younger boy anchored to his chest. Harry just clung to him tightly as he shifted to get comfortable, following even the slightest movements of Louis's body. When the older boy tucked the blankets securely around their bodies, he sighed softly, his eyes fluttering closed as his head fell limply onto Louis's chest.

"Tired?"

Harry nodded languidly, his eyes already closed as he mumbled out, "Sleepy."

"It's alright. Go to sleep," Louis directed gently. The silent implication of "you're safe, I'm right here" went without saying.

Miraculously, Harry was out in minutes; he had probably cried himself to the point of crippling exhaustion. Louis tried to close his eyes, too, but his restless thoughts kept him awake. Pretty soon, he stopped trying; instead, he stared out the window beside the bed, watching the clouds float aimlessly through the gray sky.

He had half a mind to care that Stan was probably wondering where he had run off to, but with Harry's body warm and relaxed beside him, he couldn't bring himself to leave. More and more, he found himself comparing Stan to Harry rather than the other way around; for so long, Stan had been the standard -- something that no one else would ever live up to in Louis's mind -- but it seemed that Harry had somehow managed to change everything with Louis even noticing.

Maybe Louis had been comparing everyone to the idea of Stan that he had created in his head. Maybe what he really needed was to compare the real-life version of Stan to the real-life version of Harry; now that he had seen the two standing side by side, his view was completely different.

No more than half an hour later, he heard the front door open, creaking on its hinges like it needed to protest angrily against whoever had entered. His brow furrowed, his body tensing slightly and his protective hold on Harry's sleeping figure tightening instinctively.

Then he heard Niall's voice -- the Irish boy never did learn how to whisper -- and he relaxed again. He traced the familiar curve of Harry's waist gentle with his fingertips, more to calm himself than to soothe an unconscious Harry.

Liam appeared in the doorway a moment later. Louis held a finger to his lips, and the other boy padded quietly across the room, crouching down beside the bed to study Harry's sleeping form. The curly-haired boy looked peaceful aside from his red cheeks and puffy eyes, his face still swollen from crying.

"He looks so . . ." Liam shook his head, his breathy voice cracking. "Fuck's sake."

Louis glanced down. The dark bags under Harry's eyes weren't just from crying; he hadn't been sleeping. He brushed the messy curls away from the younger boy's forehead, tangling his fingers in the soft strands and scratching soothingly at Harry's scalp.