If You See This Boy

The Reality Where You're Still Here

A Note From Kaity: READ THIS! I start this chapter in present tense because that's what it is, ie what is presently occurring. Harry will start telling his story and it becomes italicized. It will switch back to normal font whenever something in the present is said.

STOP! DID YOU READ THE ABOVE MESSAGE? 

NO? GO BACK DUMMY! THANK YOU SWEETCHEEKS!

Morning tumbles in with hazy streams of light filtering through the windows and the smell of burnt bacon. "Harry, for Christ's sake, I need help!" Louis voice wakes me as a tired smile curls my lips. Things are okay. 

I stumble from the bed and make my way quickly down the steps until Louis' pale blue boxer shorts are in sight, "What do you need my rescuing for today, my dearest Lou-Lou?" 

"If you're going to be a prat about it, just go back to bed," Louis frowns as he leans over the frying pan, his hands outstretched to block my view of the sizzling charred remains. The muscles in his back tense as he jumps back cradling his hand.

"Give me morning attitude and the bacon will get its revenge," a smile warms my lips as I gently move him aside and press a kiss to his grease burnt hand. Releasing him, I take the frying pan off the stove and dump the persistently popping pieces of piggy to the trash. 

Louis is silent from where he rests against the countertop, his sunkissed arms crossed over his bare chest. "I just wanted to make you breakfast is all," he says quietly in a mumble that I probably wasn't even meant to hear. 

Leaning over with the frying pan held out to the side, I press a kiss to Louis' cheek, "You tried." When Louis merely scowls and looks away, I continue, "and hey, that means everything to me."

A small smile turns up the corners of his lips as he presses the package of bacon against my shirt, "Well, it would mean everything to me if I could eat some breakfast."

"Excellent priorities you have, Lou-Lou," I grin at him as I take the package and begin laying the strips into the pan before placing it back on the stove. 

He stays close, his warmth nearly burning my skin from where he stands at my side, "Harry, what was your dream about?" 

There's a certain quiet that settles around the kitchen and it feels too much like the air of a hospital, "Oliver."

"Oliver," Louis repeats as he moves toward the fridge.

"Yeah," I quietly affirm before placing a wire mesh lid over the bacon to keep the grease from attacking either of us. The conversation dies there and Louis falls back into silence as I focus my attention on the tasks at hand. 

Reaching into the cabinet, I pull out a couple plates. A nervousness settles in my chest as I stare down at the unfamiliar plastic dishes, "Louis, did you buy these?" Fiddling with the thick tan plates, I turn around to look at him. "No, no, no..." I let the plates clatter to the tile floor as I try to sort through my thoughts. There's something wrong. Everything is wrong, I think desperately as I take in the different cabinets, the table that isn't the one Lou and I purchased at the antique market the month before, and there's definitely no Louis standing with his normal, pensive expression as he searches through the fridge.

"You alright, Harold?" the familiar voice from my dreams asks, the one that dared to tell me Louis was gone. His figure looms in the doorway to this space that clearly isn't Louis and I's kitchen. 

I kneel down, desperately grasping for the fallen plates, "Where's Lou? Where's Louis? Where did he go?"

A frown overcomes the young man's face and he looks so familiar, "Can you come with me, Harry?" He holds out a hand and beckons for me to follow him as he turns to leave.