Once Upon a Dream

Chapter 6

Summer

The sun glows warmly through the scratchy curtains hanging from Harry's hospital window. Opening them to let the sunrise in had become an integral part of Louis' morning routine.

The golden beams strike effervescently onto Harry's pale face. A light shadow would dance upon his cheeks below his eyelashes. After admiring the sight, Louis would smile before checking Harry's vitals. He would whisper a morning greeting to Harry first, of course.

He'd sit by Harry's side and sip on his tea while reading one of their books. Whenever something interesting happened in the story, he made sure to read it aloud to Harry. The best part was when there was exciting dialogue that he could read and act out, his voice characterizing the scene perfectly.

After about an hour, the sun would rise completely and Louis would go to work. He'd leave Harry and tend to other patients. He'd sincerely devoted extra time to the hospital since Harry came along. He was early to his shifts almost always, never missing an opportunity to spend his breaks between shifts in Harry's room.

That was how things went. And he was happy. The other residents of the hospital were happy too, because Louis would jump at the chance to take on extra shifts. It was perfect, really. Louis didn't get as tired because there were less drives home. He could just find the comfort of Harry's room instead.

On top of it all, it was a glorious Summer. The weather was pure warmth with a light breeze, and the sun was golden all the time. Golden, golden, golden. Everything was golden and light pink outside the window.

It crossed his mind every night when he'd find his eyes winding down beside Harry's bed. The thought of his attachment to Harry was scary, of course. He was well aware of his inebriated state that Harry caused. He was literally seeing the world with rose colored glasses, and he knew it. But who cares? The world is a rose, why focus on the thorns?

He even dreamed in pastel colors. Harry was there and smiling, just like in his ID photo. His voice wasn't there, but everything else about him was. He could see the person Harry was through stories he'd heard Anne and Gemma tell. It would all come to fruition in those dreams, and it was breathtaking.

One night, his dream bubble was popped by a voice shaking his shoulder.

"Louis. Louis wake up," The voice echoed.

Louis' eyes slowly opened, the haze of nighttime tickling his irises. "I'm up," he croaked ever so quietly.

"Lou," The voice hummed, low and alarming, "You've gotta go home."

"What?" Louis shifted in his seat. He turned and looked with half-awake eyes. It was Liam. "Yeah, yeah. I'll go."

Liam was looking down at him with concern. "What are you doing, Lou?"

"Must've fallen asleep, I guess." Louis got up to his feet with a stretch. He cleared his throat and gathered his things. "Thanks for waking me up, mate."

"No- Lou, really." Liam put out an arm, grabbing Louis by the shoulder. "What are you doing?"

Louis shrugged it off dramatically, scrunching his face in disgust. "I just fuckin' told you."

But Liam was still looking at him with worry and concern. He stared for a moment longer, his gaze irritating and infuriating Louis with every millisecond.

"I'm fine, Liam. You can wipe that shit off your face now."

"Louis," Liam barked. His voice was suddenly lower than before.

"Liam," Louis mimicked. He couldn't help being petty and immature. Once he'd been set off, there was no filter.

"I'm worried about you."

"Aww," Louis replied with a hefty taste of sarcasm, "So sweet, Liam. Really. I'm doing quite well, though, so if you wouldn't mind fucking off, that would be great."

"Really?" Liam spit, eyes widening. "Do you really want to do this, Louis?"

Louis felt his chest burn with both rage and humiliation. It was clear on Liam's reddening face that a small flame was about to turn into a wildfire. Louis knew that look well. He'd always enjoyed getting Liam heated just to see him explode a little bit, but this was scary. "Want to do what, Liam? Enlighten me, please."

Liam bit his lower lip, exhaling a fierce puff of air from his nose. "I can't be gentle with you, Louis. I want to be because I'm your friend, and I care about you, but I just can't sugar coat this anymore. You're losing yourself, mate. You can't just- Sleep in here, Louis."

"I'm exhausted, Liam! You know how it is, this isn't like working at a car park for fucks sake. So what if I rest in a patient's room?"

Liam sympathetically tilts his head, "Louis, come on. You know this isn't the same."

When Louis is left without a response, he continues.

"That's the whole problem here. You've turned your patient- your patient- into some glamorized romantic thing."

Louis' mouth hung open as his hand slapped onto his chest in offense. "Excuse me?"

"You know what's going on, Lou, I don't have to spell it out for you."

"Yeah," Louis hissed, "You don't. And you shouldn't. In fact, I recommend you quit right about now."

"You're obsessed with a vegetable, Louis!" Liam yelled as he took a step closer. His face was painted red, a vein popping out of his forehead. His eyes widen like he can visually see the line he crossed.

It sets off a defense mechanism in Louis' brain. It stung deep in his lungs to breathe, anger ricocheting up his esophagus and onto his tongue. "Get out."

Liam tried to spit back, but Louis had had enough. His eyes were welling up.

"Get out!" Louis yelled, his throat croaking from the loudness of it. His hands shove against Liam's chest forcefully. He keeps shoving, keeps pushing Liam towards the door. A part of him really wants Liam to fight back, wants to have a reason to let these feelings out on him. But Liam lets it happen.

Before leaving, though, Liam looks back. "Get some help." He whispers.

As soon as the door shuts behind him, Louis collapses into the chair beside Harry's bed. It's like he's forgotten how to sob, clutching his arms to his chest as he heaves suffocating breaths. His mouth hangs open in a silent scream. He's broken. For a moment he completely disregards what he'd learned in med school about human anatomy.

Hearts were definitely made of glass, and his had shattered into a thousand pieces.

For one quiet moment, he looked at Harry. Harry was still, lying as if he hadn't heard a thing. The thing that truly shattered him, though, was the fact that Harry really hadn't heard a thing. He was in a coma. He was a patient. Liam was telling the truth, and Louis couldn't quite handle that.

He wiped his tears away with his fist as he shakily stood to his feet. He gathers his belongings in his arms and leaves without looking back. He couldn't look back, not even if he wanted to.

And really, that's all he wanted to do.

He goes home. Gets into bed. He doesn't sleep. Doesn't get the chance to dream of Harry again.

It starts to settle in, how far he'd let himself go into this mess. Had this happened with anyone else in the world, he would have stopped months ago. It isn't healthy, isn't safe. But when you're in it, when it's you experiencing it, your mind will stop at nothing to keep you there.

When he goes back to work the next day, there's a piece of his mind that recognizes these fragments of things that shouldn't have happened in the first place. He's hesitant to even enter Harry's room; even as a patient of his. That sweet feeling in the pit of his stomach has gone sour. It's all replaced with fear. Why did it take this long to realize the severity of the situation?

Still, he walks in. He pulls back the fabric partition. He sees Harry.

Oh.

That's why.