flower crowns // l.s.

✿10✿

Harry had fallen asleep beside Louis, not even realizing Louis had sprawled himself out across Harry like a tired cat and was snoring in his ear. Sometimes it would be really loud puffs of air blowing against it, but then came the snore that sounded like a train. That's actually what had awoken Harry, was Louis' snoring. At first, he furrowed his eyebrows, wondering why Louis was lying on top of him and clinging to him like a koala bear, but then just went with it and started playing with his hair. Louis weighed absolutely nothing and it's adorable because even though he puts on this big and bad persona, and looks all rugged, he's just a cutie. An absolute cutie. And he looked so peaceful when he was sleeping (even though his open mouth got a bit of slobber on Harry's shirt, he didn't mind) with no worry lines on his forehead, no crease between his brows . . . He liked him looking so peaceful. But Harry wasn't expecting Louis to jump up out of surprise when he had started tracing his tattoos. Although he's disappointed, he sits up and watches Louis carefully, not liking the way he's retreating out of disgust.

"What the fuck, Harry?"

Harry furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head, not knowing what happened.

"Jesus, why were you touching me? Why was I on top of you?" Louis looked around, trying to piece what had happened, Harry assumed.

"Oh, I was just . . . you're soft and I-I'm sorry. You just . . . you'd fallen asleep on me, I guess." Harry sighed, now freaking out himself. "I didn't know . . . I thought—"

"Hey, whoa. Harry, is everything okay?" Liam asked, suddenly appearing into the living room from his bedroom.

Harry nodded frantically, too quickly to pass that he actually was okay. He didn't want Louis thinking he did anything inappropriate while he was intoxicated. He would never, not ever; and just him assuming something like that about him makes him feel horrible and disgusting and he can't handle it. Just the thought of that happening makes him want to cry, because he really would never.

"Oh, God, I think he's having a panic attack."

Louis' eyes widened, the words: "What the hell did I do?!" Furiously falling past his lips that made Harry flinch and start crying, gasping for air.

And air is what he needs; he can't breathe. Not anymore. It's like every time he inhales and expects to get air, his air supply only shortens and his chest starts to hurt and he's freaking out and can't breathe at all.

"Shoot, his asthma. Niall! Where's his inhaler?!"

"What?" Niall asks, running into the room with his shirt off, looking as if he just stumbled out of bed.

"Where is Harry's inhaler!"

"Oh, crap, man. He . . ."

"He what?"

"He lost it! Remember?"

"No, no, no," Liam said, now beginning to pace with his hands in his hair while Harry feels like he's dying.

"It's not asthma." Louis, eyes still on Harry, sneaks over to him, carefully grasping his arm, and when he didn't pull away, he tugs him over and presses his chest to Harry's backside, wrapping his arms around his chest. "Hey, bud," he quietly whispered to the quiet and gasping Harry, who is now starting to feel dizzy. "Hey, hey. Listen to me, okay?" He inhales and exhales deeply. "Feel that? I'm sure you can copy me, kitten, c'mon." He repeats it again, hoping it would work. "Everything is fine. Just breathe, yeah? You can do it, I know you can. You're very strong . . . can you be strong for me? Breathe, Harry, breathe with me."

It takes a while for Harry to catch on, to stop crying and gasping and to even out his breaths; but eventually, he calms down (he curls up into Louis and frowns and holds onto his shirt tightly, wishing he could hide from everyone) and everyone feels relief and shock all combined with how that went.