next to you ❀ l.s.

twenty eight - little things

Harry jolted awake, his fingers fisting in the thin blankets gathered around him. The roaring noise in his ears hadn't quite faded, and he could feel himself panting, but he couldn't actually hear it; the violent heave of his lungs served as his only clue. Even through the chaos inside of him, he could feel someone touching him; cradling him ever so gently; holding him carefully, like he was the most precious, fragile thing in the entire world.

"Lou?" he whispered, more hoping than guessing.

"It's okay, love. You're okay," the older boy's voice surrounded him, wrapping him up more warmly than his blankets. Harry's body seemed to relax instinctively, and he sank back against Louis's chest, letting his eyes flutter closed again as he regained control over his breathing.

Louis held the trembling boy close to him, anchoring Harry securely against his chest. Once Harry had started breathing steadily again, he changed their position slightly, sitting up against the headboard and maneuvering Harry between his spread legs.

Harry took another deep, calming breath, leaning back further against Louis's chest. The older boy tucked his chin over Harry's head, his arms circling around Harry's stomach in the perfect mix of a comforting and protective gesture.

"Do you remember what happened?" Louis asked carefully. His voice rumbled through Harry's back, creeping up his spine to settle at the base of his skull.

Harry shook his head, chewing down hard on his lip. Uncertainty tainted his delicate features, and he furrowed his brow. "I don't . . . did I . . ?"

"You had an episode, darling," Louis explained gently, using the kindest words possible -- he knew how much Harry secretly hated the word "dissociated." "How do you feel now?"

"Okay," Harry replied tentatively, still gauging his own connection with reality. Louis's thumb traced steadily over his stomach, the older boy's hand tucked under the hem of his sweater, and the feeling of Louis's cold fingertip against his warm skin helped. "Are you warm enough?"

Louis chuckled, the sound rumbling through Harry's shoulders. "I'm perfect, love. Are you?"

Harry nodded, echoing, "Perfect."

And then suddenly, he wasn't anymore.

The memories started to resurface. Talking back to Stan. Trying to defend Louis. Stan's harsh words about Harry's disorder, and his angry glare when he realized the nature of Harry and Louis's relationship.

Well, the previous nature. Now, he couldn't be too sure of anything.

He whimpered softly, curling further back against the comforting softness of Louis's body. The older boy shushed him soothingly, holding him impossibly closer, letting his arms serve as an impenetrable barrier between Harry and the threatening world around them. Louis seemed to understand exactly what Harry was thinking, like he was riding the train of Harry's thoughts right along with him.

"Harry, I . . . I can't believe you did that for me." Louis's voice was thick with emotion, and he swallowed hard, hoping to clear some of it away. "I know how hard that must have been for you, but you still . . . I just can't believe you. You're amazing. Thank you."

Harry blushed, already shaking his head. "It wasn't a big deal, Lou. Really, I didn't even --"

"No, stop. You're just going to have to bear with me, because I know for a fact that you don't hear this enough," Louis said firmly. His thumb tapped against Harry's stomach, like a physical emphasis of the words that followed: "You, Harry Styles, are the kindest, most selfless person I've ever met in my life. You fucking amaze me every single day. I am so, so lucky to have you in my life. I'm so lucky to have met you."