Sinister - Larry Stylinson

Part Eight

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Waking up and not knowing instantly where he was was becoming a normal thing for Louis, so when he rolled onto his side and blinked awake, noticing he was still on the couch after much confusion, he just groaned. He sent a long glance up at the wall clock that read 7 am and glanced down at the rest of his body which was covered in a blanket and pressed up against something impeccably warm.

That was when last night slapped him in the face and he stiffened, as though he were trying to decide on whether it had all been an elaborate dream, but when he glanced over his shoulder to see Harry Styles was the impeccably warm 'something' he nearly lost it.

He was nestled right up against him on the already narrow couch, and although the boy was still sound asleep with little snores echoing from his open mouth, he felt unnerved.

He thought momentarily on the memory session that had proved effective but fatal in emotional stability.

And then he remembered those final words that had left him in a swimming awe for at least two hours before he passed out in an upright position with Harry still asleep in his lap.

Just the thought of those words coming from the boy with his lanky arms wrapped around his waist now were enough to make his toes curl and stomach to knot. The flat was silent besides the distant and steady tick of the clock, the hum of the fridge, and Harry's sweet snoring in his ear.

Louis cringed.

Terming anything coming from the boy swaddling him 'sweet' seemed wrong and foreign. After everything they'd been through- he stiffly wondered exactly why he had taken Harry in. He was a massive burden, and just thinking about it again made him wonder how long exactly he could keep this up. How long would Harry live under his roof and continually and emotionally confuse him.

Yet something about the thought of Harry not being here with him unnerved him even more than having him here.

It made him sick to his stomach to think he was actually, and almost dependent on someone who could have potentially robbed 7 plus people and children of their lives.

And how easily accessed he was to Louis' pulse in such 'innocent' moments such as these.

He again thought of that fateful night, and found himself touching back those 2 years more and more.

Harry had plenty of motive to kill Louis (with him being the only person he had 'truthfully' abided his 'guiltyness' in), yet he hadn't.

Because he loves you.

His subconscious snarkily reminds him and again his stomach twists. As 'unsimple' as a thing that was, it seemed pale in comparison to the fact that perhaps there was, quite obviously, a whole mantra of memories and lies plaguing Harry of his true past, and everyone of the true closure they had been robbed of all of these years.

Louis glanced up at the clock again, letting out a little groan when he realized he had been laying here in Harry's arms, thinking, for 45 minutes.

The boy stirred behind him, letting out a little breathy groan, and Louis instantly tensed for an unknown reason.

"Goodmornin-" Louis whispered, before being abruptly cut off by a loud guffaw of horror.

He was shoved onto the floor with a loud thud, and instantly fear ran through his veins. He glanced up at Harry, who was now rod straight and seething, confusion causing his eyes to have a glassy appearance.

"Who the fuck are you?" He roared, leering down quickly and hauling the man up by the collar of his shirt. Louis recoiled in confusion as well, his eyebrows knitting and mouth hanging wide open.