Angels in Hell (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter 13

April 12th, 2015

Alternate Universe

I brushed Harry's short hair back as he lightly snored. I kissed his forehead and slid from his bed looking down at my little angel. We've grown really close. It's been two years since I woke up here. I've watched him grow and mature a little. And I, haven't changed at all. Seriously. I don't look any different. I still look 21 years old. It's like I'm not aging, basically.

But Harry has gotten taller, has gotten four haircuts the last two years, and has claimed to have a "girlfriend" at the end of last year. They apparently broke up, though. He didn't seem too hurt about it, however. I was just about to leave his room, but I trip over something small on the ground. Thinking it's one of his toys, I bend over and pick up, instead, a box. The box Harry is always so secretive about. He hides it under his bed and everytime he opens it and closes it again, he cries. The first day I was here, he opened it when I went outside to talk to Niall and he thought I left him. He opened it again on his seventh birthday when he was whining about me working too much on his birthday.

It's a pattern I noticed. All the times he never wants to be lonely, he opens it. He's afraid of being lonely like he once was when the "old me" was around. Curious me walks out of his room with the box and goes down the stairs to the livingroom. I put it on my lap. It's a small wooden box with many carvings along the top of it. My fingers move along the side of it until I finally make the decision to open it. The box reveals 5 pictures. All 5 are labled what age Harry is in them. I picked up the one labled age 3.

It's an old picture. So little with chubby cheeks and a binky in his mouth.

"What are you doing?" I hear a small voice say from the doorway.

Quickly, I look up and see Harry standing there with his blanky in his hand.

"Um..." I start.

He slowly makes his way across the livingroom to me. He sits on the couch by me and looks at the picture.

"The "old you" never took any pictures of me. This one was taken at my old foster home... along with these two. And these two," he says picking up more pictures,"Were taken by our old neighbor who moved."

I pick up the pictures and trace Harry's small face with my thumb. Innocent Harry. So small and beautiful in these pictures... and that beautiful little angel is mine. All mine.

"Why didn't I take any pictures of you?" I ask looking at him again.

He shrugs and gently takes the pictures from my hands, putting them back in the box. I move my fingers and he closes the box before setting it on the small coffee table and sitting next to me again.

"Why are those pictures so special to you?" I ask.

He looks down and takes one of my hands. He traces the lines in my palm.

"They remind me of the times I was happy before the "old you"...when I wasn't lonely. But I'm happy again now," he whispers. "Happier."

He looks up at me. His green eyes sparkle and his eyelashes flutter. He smiles and pink spreads across his cheeks. His small, yet skinny fingers, intertwine between mine.

"You know," I say,"You are the most beautiful child I've ever seen."

With the back of my hand, I rub his cheek gently. He grins wider and giggles.

"Really?"

I nod and gather him and his box in my arms. He holds the box to his chest and leans his head on my shoulder. Tiredly, he rubs his eyes.