"If you weren't real I'd make you up"

Chapter 3

"I want to meet him." Harry's mom says over a cup of tea, her hair pulled back into a braid, sweater pushed up to her elbows. "This boyfriend of yours."

Harry smiles, unzipping his backpack. "You'll meet him eventually, he's just afraid you won't like him."

She scoffs, sauntering into the room as he digs out his folders. "Well tell him that's silly, anyone you like this much I know I'll love."

Harry nods, a warm feeling in his chest. He'd love for Louis to meet his mom, he knows they'd get along great, but Louis is always so skittish when he brings her up, so quick to change the subject. "I know you'll love him too, he's perfect."

"Why does he think I won't like him?" She asks, a peculiar tilt to her words. He wishes she wouldn't worry so much about him, he's fine, perfectly fine even though he can't think straight worth a damn and half his thoughts aren't his own. Most of the time, he can drown out the chaos.

"I don't know, he's just nervous." He says, because the more she presses the more he wants her to stop. He'll introduce them eventually, but he's not going to force Louis to do anything he doesn't want to do. He hasn't met Louis' parents, he doesn't understand why it's an issue.

"Harry, honey..." She begins in that soft voice that means she's trying not hurt him.

"What mom." He asks, trying not to sound as sullen and petulant as he suddenly feels.

"Louis is, you know, he's not another one of the voices in your head, is he?"

Harry glares, crossing his arms hard over his chest. "Mom seriously?"

She grips the handle of her mug tighter than is strictly necessary. "I'm sorry, it's just, he just showed up one day and I don't even know how you two met? I have to ask, honey, you know I do."

You don't know, Harry. You don't know, do you?

He stops, folder halfway out of his backpack, pasting a smile on his face as he stands up. "We met at school."

No you didn't, don't lie. Tell her the truth, Harry.

"Alright, well, tell him I'm excited to get to know him, that I'll like him no matter what." She says tiredly, breathing in the steam rising off her mug.

"I'll tell him." Harry says, and his hands are swimming in front of his face as he holds onto his stuff and he's fumbling the breath in his throat as he stands up straight. "I'm going to head up to my room, I've got some homework."

"Alright, be down for dinner." She says, but he doesn't answer, cold realization making spider eggs hatch in his brain and spill their crawling insides into his thoughts. He can't remember meeting Louis, never even thought of it, because he never met Louis, he made him up.

He's bit his lip and there's metal in his mouth, fear in his blood and hopelessness in his hands and he takes the stairs two at a time like he can run away from the truth.

You're crazy, you've finally lost it, haven't you. How are you going to tell her he's not real, she'll lock you up.

You deserve it Harry, you're crazy.

You deserve this.

When he opens his door, Louis is sitting on his bed, soft and golden in the afternoon sunlight and he wants to throw up.

"Tell me this is a dream." Harry whispers, closing his door softly behind him, holding Louis' gray gaze. "Wake me up, please."

Louis just stares, two words falling from his lips. "I'm sorry."

He feels sick, sick and wrong and out of place in the world. He's lost in reality and he can't find a foothold, can't find anywhere that feels safe. "How aren't you real, Louis? Why aren't you real?" He asks, dropping his things to the floor, his eyes tracing the curves he's long memorized.

A hallucination never felt so corporeal, and he wonders how he managed to make up something so beautiful.

"I am real." Louis says, looking lost and sad. "I know I'm real."

Harry shakes his head. "You're in my head with me, you aren't real."

Louis is sticking his hands between his thighs, sitting on them and hunching over like he's trying to protect himself. "Why can't I be both?"

"Because I made you up." Harry says, flinching when Louis slides off of the bed, his feet hitting the floor with a quiet thump.

"Don't say that." Louis says, holding his hands out like he wants Harry to take them. Harry reaches out, half afraid that when he tries to touch Louis his fingers will slip through.

"I trusted you." Harry says, holding his breath as he takes the other boy's hand. It's just as solid as he remembers, and Louis holds on tight like he's just afraid of slipping away as Harry is. "I believed everything you said to me."

"I never lied." Louis says, his eyes earnest.

"You said you were real." Harry says bitterly.

Louis shakes his head, taking Harry's hand and pressing it to his chest. He can feel the rise and fall of Louis' lungs as he breathes, the steady thump of his heart. "I'm just as real as you are."

"Well then why are you only in my head?" Harry asks, wishing Louis wasn't only thing that ever made sense to him, the only thing that ever felt tangible.

"Maybe I'm trapped." Louis says, raising his hand to press it to Harry's chest, his fingers curling against the cotton of Harry's tee shirt like he's trying to push into his chest and hold onto his heart.

Harry can feel their heartbeats, his rushing through his ears and Louis' against his hand.

They're synced.

xx

"I want to get you out." Harry says a week later on the bus ride home. Louis is wedged backwards in his seat, legs crossed, back pressed against the seat in front of them, the sunlight lighting him up. "Do you think I could?"

Louis shrugs. "No, I don't think so."

"Why not?" Harry asks, playing his fingers across his thigh. "You said you were trapped, maybe I could get you out."

"I don't know, maybe." Louis indulges, catching Harry's roaming hand in his smaller one. He laughs, a private little half smile falling onto his face. "I could meet your mother."

Harry nods, the beginnings of desperation crawling up into his brain. He can't do this forever, be in love with someone no one else can see. "We'll get you out, babe, no matter what."

"But you'll still love me if you don't, right?" Louis asks, looking hard at him like he's searching for a truth he can't find. "If I'm just in your head?"

Harry smiles, squeezing his hand. "Of course, sunshine."

The thing is it doesn't really matter, because he'll get Louis out. No matter what it takes.

xx

It should be okay that he's the only one who can know Louis.

As time goes by, it's not.