My fav Larry Stylinson stories

Stay a little while,angle

Harry wakes up, once more, feeling overwhelming calm despite being in a cold sweat. He sits up, breathing still deep and rhythmic, almost as if he's sleepwalking, and ruffles his hair. This confuses him and despite the night of deep, tranquil slumber he still feels tired when he tries to figure this whole thing out. At first he thought it was a bit odd but nothing to plague his mind over, however, after the third time it happened in a week he began to wonder what the hell was happening to him. Was he going insane? Was he being tricked and there was a hidden tape recorder somewhere that played something when he fell asleep that made him see these things, feel them, even though he was asleep?

After three nights in a row waking up like this he began to wish he could just figure this whole thing out; it was hurting his head trying to piece everything together. That night was the first night he didn't come; didn't crawl into Harry's dreams in the night and take his hand, sooth him, hold him.

Every night, Harry felt something in his dreams. Out of the blackness with its occasional swirls of colour, which was the norm for Harry's 'dreams', came a shimmering white that almost looking silver. It was after this white had faded to a dimmer, cleared white, that he felt it; the warm soft feeling wrapping around him like a blanket; a loud, bubbly laugh floating around him like clouds; strong arms and a soft touch holding him close; warm, comforting words that gently whistled by him like a summer's breeze. It all felt too surreal to process but all Harry knew was that, in those dreams, he felt safe, warm, protected, and loved. He felt worth something, once more.

One night, when the whiteness comes, there's a certain sense of unease about it and it instantly puts Harry one edge; the laugh is not so bright; the words a little more hushed; the touches more hesitant. Harry quickly starts from the dream, waking from thrashing in bed, only to find a boy staring at him. Harry wants to scream or cry out for help, thinking that someone is here to burgle the house, but the boy just shakes his head and Harry's throat is suddenly silent. The boy smiles at him, warm and familiar in a way, and puts a small finger, softly against his own lips in a 'shh' action. Before Harry can question why this needed to be done a pair of downy, white wings emerge from behind the boy, moving out from being folded behind his shoulders to spreading out.

They look soft and smooth, despite the fluffiness of some of the smaller feathers, and only stretch so the tips of the wings brush against the boy's elbows. Harry wonders if this is a dream and that's why he can't speak, but then the boy reaches out with extended fingers, as if to touch Harry. Instantly Harry moves back, nearly falling out the other side of the bed, and the boy - no, angel, Harry corrects himself - gives him an amused smile and silently reaches out, fingers gently stroking across Harry's cheek. Harry feels his whole body cave in at the touch, bones turning to jelly and body slouching, and the angel gives a soft laugh. Harry's eyes flick open dramatically and he moves forward at lightning speed, grabbing the angel's smaller hand in his own larger ones.

At first the angel looks panicked, terrified even, as Harry's body lurches forward, but when Harry simply takes his hand and holds it - checking he's real, this is real - the angel realises he's not actually going to hurt him and relaxes, taking Harry's other hand, letting Harry study him as the both sit cross-legged, facing each other, on Harry's small bed. At last the angel opens his mouth and speaks.

"It's okay, Harry, I'm here now. I've got you." He speaks, voice soft and the feeling of the sound wrapping around him, filling his ears and entering his very being, is like all the home comforts and joy Harry has ever felt.

The angel gently presses on Harry's shoulders until he lies down against the small mattress, body loose and pliant, and crawls next to him, instantly curling into his side. Once of the angel's wings folds into his back they sink down, disappearing into the skin, and Harry is able to wrap his arms around the angel that, now, looks so much like a normal boy it's frightening. Harry can feel where the angel's shoulder blades are more pronounced, sticking up slightly more than normal humans, and how it's more difficult to feel the vertebrate of the angel's spine, even though the skin of his back is perfectly smooth and tan. It hits Harry in a sudden realisation that the angel he's holding is only clad in a pair of black trousers that feel soft and worn; made of a jersey like material which is similar to Harry's own pyjama bottoms.

"How..?" Is the first word Harry manages to utter since he fell asleep earlier that evening.

"I know you, Harry. Better than most, in fact. You see, when you make your first true wish, whether it be a puppy for Christmas or that mummy and daddy would stop fighting, an angel hears this. It hears your call and from then on it can hear every wish you make. I heard you, Harry. It was not something I chose, more something that chose me. Angels may choose to ignore these cries from unknown voices and wait for one that speaks to them, connects with them. I connected with your call Harry; so young, sweet, innocence. So selfless. I connected with it and I have watched you ever since."

"What was it? I don't remember..."

"Oh, no, shh. Many don't; you're not the first and you won't be the last person to forget their first wish. I remember yours clearly though." The angel pauses for a moment, eyes fluttering closed before he speaks, as if recalling a memory "Please, you said, please make mummy and daddy stop fighting. It makes Gemmy sad. I don't like to see Gemmy sad and if everything's okay again she won't be sad any more. Please."

Harry is stunned to silence by his own words, so true and so him, parroted back to him. He feels soft breath on his neck and warm arms curling around him tighter; taking away the hurt, the discomfort, the memories.

"Oh..." Harry says slowly, thinking about his next question, not knowing how long he has with the angel. "Who are you?"

" I'm an angel..." the angel says softly and receives a look of derision that just says 'no shit' clear as day " I'm kidding silly!"

The angel's musical laugh comes through again. Harry smiles, big and wide and dimpled, because it's the first signs that there's something human under those wings after all, and that makes this whole thing a little less scary and a little more real.

" I'm an angel now but I was a young boy, much like yourself. I'm Louis, I was 19 when I died and I lived in Doncaster. I was hit by a car when I pushed my little sister out the way to save her being hit. I loved her, still do. She was so young and pretty. She cared so much..."

Louis' eyes hold sadness but he does not cry. Harry feels a tear he didn't even know was coming roll slowly down his cheek, still smiling because this boy, who he was and obviously still is inside, is wonderful, charming, funny and Harry knows they would've been friends, had they ever met. Louis hushes him softly and wipes the tear from his cheek, murmuring softly for Harry not to cry. Harry just smiles down at Louis, who's still curled up on his chest, and holds him a little tighter and Louis leans up and presses a soft kiss to Harry's lips. Harry feels his lips tingle despite the fact it was only a peck and thinks is must be an angel thing.

"Was it you in my dreams?" Harry asks, hand carding through Louis' soft hair and Louis clings to him and it's different because Louis is clinging to him like a small, lost child and yet the tightness of his hold, the warm puffs of breath on his neck, the feeling of smooth, tan skin against Harry's hands calms him to a point where he thinks he could sleep forever.

"Yes and no. What you saw was how your mind perceived my presence and my protection of you, but, it was me it was about so I suppose so. That's the reason tonight's dream was so shaky. I was trying to protect you, I could sense you needed my help, but you were having a nightmare. It's hard to protect someone from their inner thoughts and fears when you're on the outside."

Harry smiles and leans down, kissing his angel the same way he had kissed Harry moments before and watches in delight as a fine dusting of pink settles on Louis' cheeks. Harry decides he loves having Louis here but he needs to face his own fears, needs to know when he'll lose his precious angel to the other side once again.

"When... How long are you planning to stay?" Harry re-phrases, hating to hear Louis say he'll be 'leaving' Harry at some point.

"I stay as long as you want me, Harry. I came to you because I heard your wishes to have someone to love you, to hold you, to keep you safe and warm and comforted no matter what. I heard that and now I want to make you happy. I don't want you to be unhappy Harry; watching you grow the way I have, protecting you as I have been recently and being able to speak to you now has given me a lasting and profound connection to you which I don't think I could ever sever. You might call it... love."

Harry took in all Louis had told him, not caring about the when, and whys, and whats any more, and revelling in Louis being right there. Harry took Louis' hand in his, much the way he did when he first heard Louis laugh in real time, before gently threading their fingers together.

"I may not love you yet, Louis. But I'm getting there... just, stay a little while, angel..."

(AN i dont know who wrote it)