The Forgotten [Larry Stylinson]

19

"Get over here."

He forcefully grabbed Harry's arm and yanked him forward. Harry stumbled over his feet and fell to his knees. He tried to stand up, but the hand pressing on his shoulder kept him from doing so.

"Stay," he growled.

Harry looked up at him, and his lips trembled as he watched as his fingers worked at his zipper.

"I have you just where I need you."

-

Harry's alarm blared through his earphones at eight o'clock on the dot. He shut off his alarm and sets his phone on the table. He scrubbed his hands over his face and turned to look at Gemma, who was sleeping peacefully on the bed opposite his.

Sometimes he wondered how her expressions can show such serenity considering the hell they went through, but then all he had to do is look into her eyes and see the torture he knew she felt.

If he wasn't such an open book, he could imagine that she'd be able to read him the same way. She always could, better than anyone else. As much as he missed her voice, he didn't need her voice to know that she hurt, too.

With a last long look, he heaved himself up off the bed to grab clean clothes. He checked the time on his clock, and he had a moment of internal panic when he realized he only had twenty minutes to eat before Louis would be downstairs for breakfast.

Long story short, Harry hadn't uttered more than a few sentences to Louis since The Lake Incident. He'd barely even seen him, and he wasn't planning on doing so today.

That's why his heart plummeted to the ground to find Louis in the kitchen eating cereal when he came downstairs.

"Good morning," Louis said, calm as could be. Harry couldn't read his expression, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know what he was thinking.

He stayed quiet, his heart thump, thump, thumping in his chest as he went to the cupboard to grab a muffin. He heard Louis sigh, and the next thing he knew was a hand pressing into a shoulder to turn him around.

"Let go of me!" Harry forcefully removed Louis' hand from his arm, his eyes wild with fear.

Louis frowned. "Please talk to me?"

Harry shook his head. "I-I can't."

He tried to move, but when Louis reached forward and cupped his cheek, he felt like he was frozen in place.

"Harry, I'm sorry," Louis said.

That snapped Harry out of his trance. He twisted from Louis' grip and bolted for the stairs with his muffin is his hand. He couldn't deal with that right then. He needed more time to think, and he couldn't do that with Louis around. He needed to be alone.

He slammed the door to his bedroom and dove onto Gemma's bed. She startled awake, but she shifted to wrap her arms around his neck and held on tight. The action was unbelievably tender, and Harry sunk into his sister's touch.

He forgot about his muffin, and he pulled back just enough to see what remained of it smushed against Gemma's pajama top.

A few tears rolled down his cheeks. He felt stressed to the point of curling up in his closet with If You Find Me for the umpteenth time and never return to society.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as he buried his face in her neck.

"It's okay, baby," she whispered back.

Harry froze. Slowly, he glanced up at Gemma, who had a small smile on her face. He burst into tears and pressed closer to him, wrapping his arms tightly around her.

"Gemma," he whimpered. "Oh, Gemma."

"Why are you crying, baby?" she asked, but she sniffled, too, and Harry felt her chest heave with a silent sob.

Harry held onto her and just cried, and cried, and cried. He had imagined her first words for so many months, and now that she had said them, he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. He was happy, and sad, and confused, but he was also angry. Angry that he had been deprived of his sister's voice for a full year, and angry that he didn't even know why.

That's all he wanted: an explanation.

Slowly, he lifted his head up from her neck and met her eyes. His heart was racing, and he wasn't able to calm down. So many things were running through his head and he didn't know how to piece any thoughts together. He felt so out of control, and he didn't like it.

"Why?" he demanded, voice a low murmur. He couldn't manage anything else.

Gemma shrugged. "I don't know. It just happened, and I'm sorry."

She wasn't speaking louder than a whisper. Harry wanted to shout at her. He wanted her to yell and scream and tell him all the things that had been running through her mind the past year. He wanted to know the things she felt and what she thought of, if she had considered how he was breaking in side at all.

He wanted to know that she cared about him. He didn't want to feel like he had to bear all of the weight on his shoulders anymore.

Harry couldn't say what he expected of her first words in twelve months. He thought of a lot of scenarios, but never once did he think of what it would actually feel like to hear Gemma's voice after so long. He didn't prepare himself for the mess of emotions he was feeling, and he never could have. Not fully.

He wanted to hear her tell him she loved him again. He wanted to hear her say that things were okay, and that he was her baby brother and nothing was going to hurt him because she was there. Gemma's here, baby. I love you, Haz, nothing is going to hurt you.

He wanted so many things. Above everything, he wanted things to be normal. But then he remembered their childhood, and this right there, in the Tomlinson's house, was as normal as it was going to get. He was just going to have to accept that.

He figured, if his sister could do that, than he could, too.