Don't Let Me Go. [Larry Stylinson.]

Little Things.

Little Things

 

Louis’ POV

A warm scent of vanilla filled the kitchen as I poured the warm liquid into two cups. It’s four in the morning and we’re still awake; the only way to get him to sleep is to make the guy a cup of vanilla tea, but he wouldn’t just let anyone make it. He says I make it the best because I add the right amount of honey and milk and it’s the way he likes it. I think that’s cute, but when I’m making it I always get scared I’m going to make it wrong and he’ll look at me like he doesn’t know me anymore. Like I’ve ruined the only thing that made him fall so hard for me; even though it’s just a cup of tea. I taste mine first and I realize it’s hotter than I thought it would be, but it taste the exact way he wants it. I picked up both cups with my tongue hanging out of my mouth and walked back into his room, he was shirtless and his hair was still damp because I forced him into taking a shower. He’s so stubborn whenever he gets like this, he downs the drinks and the pills and they change him into a whole different person and sometimes i think there’s no way of stopping him. I come over every Wednesday to see him doing the same thing over and over again; sometimes I don’t even want to pop up, but I feel like if I don’t I won’t have a reason to have days like this. Where we know we have to get up in the next four and a half hours but we stay up and i make him tea and in the next twenty minutes he’ll be heading to sleep, but in between those twenty minutes, it’s slurs and whispers and murmurs and we’re talking about absolutely nothing yet beauty spills from his pretty little mouth and I wonder what goes through his mind that he says stuff so beautifully and it makes no sense. “Go to sleep, Haz. We have to wake up in the next four hours.” And he didn’t say anything else after that, he just nodded like a little kid and I took his cup from him and walked out of the room and put it in the sink. When I came back into the room he was fast asleep, small snores coming out of his slightly parted mouth that once he gets deeper into his sleep would become louder. But I just climbed into the empty side next to him and closed my eyes hoping for nothing to interrupt me for the next four hours.  But of course I was wrong, because Harry began speaking when I was almost asleep, but of course he was going to speak; I told him he should stop drinking tea before bed but he tells me he needs it, so of course I keep giving them to him.

“Don’t let me go.” He murmurs, he begins moving around the bed and trying to find himself a comfortable spot while I just stood still and gripped onto the duvet tighter. I hate hearing these conversations that goes on in Harry’s mind, it scares me sometimes, “I’m ... I’m tired of feeling alone.” I hold my breath and count to ten and pray this will be over in the morning.

*

When morning comes I don’t want to wake up, but Harry tells me I have to because he’s shit at making tea. A faint smile appears on my mouth as I forced myself out of the bed to stumble into the kitchen, Harry follows slowly behind me and when we settle into the kitchen he sits on a stool and I begin boiling the water. I looked over at Harry and he was just staring at the counter top; he always does this, when he wakes up he’s still in a daze and he needs something warm to wake him up. So I make him the tea that he loves, but when I’m not here he tells me he runs off and he gets coffee; since he’s real shit at making tea. Which is the Harry way to do things; but I decided to speak because I couldn’t bear the silence, “what were you dreaming about last night?” I asked, “Sounded like you were dying.”

Harry shook his head and chuckled softly, “the dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had.” He murmurs. I looked at him with my eyebrows tied together while I passed him the warm cup of tea, and he gave me a fake smile when drinking the tea that wasn’t too hot this time. But I just stared at him because he confused me; this wasn’t the Harry he used to be, when he smiled all the time and he’ll give you cheesy comebacks and he’ll always be happy in the mornings. This Harry was confusing, he’ll say things that you need to put together to understand him and he doesn’t really say much anymore unless you speak to him first. I knew everything was wrong with him and I still wondered what part of it was my fault. “You better drink up your tea, don’t want to be late.” He said before standing up and putting his cup in the sink.