Collision; Larry

29.

Louis cries for hours.

He lies in a ball against Harry's chest, and he cries until his chest aches with the hiccups and his face is red and puffy, and it's awful and the sobs rip through him and exhaust him and it's hurting his rib cage and it's uncomfortable in every way possible, but he can't stop it. It's like all the heaviness that's been pooling in Louis' stomach and sticking to his bones is slowly being drained and trickling out of him, and however terrible he might be feeling, he kind of doesn't want to stop crying, either.

Harry just holds him. The spirit doesn't utter a single word as Louis trembles with loss in his arms, and part of him is embarrassed that he can't seem to stop the tears, but there's just-there's so much to cry about.

He still feels sick. He can still feel the rough traces of the souls' fingernails on his skin. So he cries because even when he's safe he's still not, even when it's over and done with he can't escape the reality of it, and Harry is holding him and even though Louis never wants him to let go again, he doesn't want any of the shadows on his own skin to stick to Harry's.

He completely drenches Harry's blue t-shirt, turning it shades darker with salty tears. So he cries because he feels gross and he feels bad for ruining Harry's clothing.

His neck is sore, the marks on his arms are itching, his knuckles are throbbing. He can't feel his toes and his legs are uncomfortably tucked in under his chin. So he cries because his body is tired and hurting, but he doesn't want to move.

Harry rocks them both gently back and forth, kissing the top of Louis' head and Louis can't understand how he hasn't left yet. So he cries because Harry shouldn't stay for this, he really shouldn't because not once before in Louis' life has Louis shown himself to be this vulnerable and pathetic and it must be terrible to watch, but he does stay, and Louis is glad he does. He cries because through his wretched state he still feels a ping of pride for Harry, for Harry being this good at comforting when Louis knows he must struggle with the mechanics of that concept.

It calms down after a while, and Harry is allowed to leave to get them some food. When the spirit returns he's got sandwiches from the cafeteria and a big bottle of water for Louis, because he figures Louis' lost so much of that this afternoon.

He's so lovely. So Louis cries again because Harry is the loveliest person he knows.

That's the way it continues, until the sunlight previously streaming through the window turns soft and dull and casts a colder shade of blue on the clean surfaces of the hospital room. If the beginning of the attack was like turning a full bucket of water upside-down, the end of it is like a little summer stream-it ripples through greens slowly and in its own pace, never quite ebbing off or stopping, but still managing to find peace. Louis is still heartbreakingly sad. But he's calm.

"It's not going to be the end of the world," Harry begins, and his voice is soft like velvet and chocolate when it cuts-no, caresses-through the tranquility of the room. "It can be. I know it sure as hell feels like it. But it's not going to be for you."

Louis' too tired to turn it into another argument, too tired to fight it, too tired to deal with himself and all the messy things that could possibly go wrong. So in this moment, he believes Harry.

"I'm just tired," he breathes.

"I know." The grip around him tightens just a little. "That's okay."