Green Eyes | Larry Stylinson ❀

The First Time

  I hate to be THAT author, but no. There is no actual details. I hate to disappoint, but oh well. This story wasn't really made for it. Just all the gooey stuff leading up to it. Hahahahahaha. I love being mean.

Louis tosses and turns in the bed for what feels like hours as the time drags late into the night. It's difficult to get comfortable and to succumb to sleep. He wanted to try sleeping at home again, see if this might make him feel better, but it's just worse. He hardly gets sleep when he's in the hospital waiting room, but at least he's able to close his eyes and feel at peace knowing Harry is just down the hall. Now, he can't even do that. His eyes are wide awake and mind racing with everything.

Fuck. He really needs Harry here with him. His sleeping buddy. His cuddle bug. His love. His little spoon. He has gotten so used to falling asleep every night with his warm body pressed up against his that now he feels so cold and empty. It doesn't feel right to be in this bed all alone. The bed doesn't even smell like him anymore. It smells more like Louis and his lame attempt at trying to use Harry's body wash and shampoo. But it still isn't right. It's like all traces of Harry have slowly left this apartment, and Louis wishes now more than ever that he could wake up and get home so that he's everywhere.

As each hour and day pass, his strong desire of missing him continues to grow. He's almost forgetting what the sound of his voice is like. Or the loud way he cackles. Fuck, he misses the way dimples would pop out his cheek any time he smiled with his bunny teeth. It's all become a distant memory in the back of his head, and he realizes these moments that he spends with Harry he's taken for granted. He's never once stopped to consider that any moment could be their last. It's terrifying to think of.

His mind swarms with everything about him. His clumsy two left feet any time he dances. Always tripping over thin air. Or his goofiness. How he would say the most ridiculous things at times for absolutely no reason. His body. God, does Louis miss his body. His long legs that always wrap around his waist. His slender fingers that fit so perfectly against his own. His strong smell of flower and kiwi, how it always lingers even hours after a shower.

And Harry's eyes. Those beautiful green eyes that he could stare in to for hours. Gosh, how much does he wish he could see those right now. All he wants in the world is for Harry to wake up. To hear him speak and laugh again. Just to have him smile or scrunch up his nose whenever he's conflicted with his feelings. Louis concluded that sleep at this point is useless, so he might as well stay up until the hospital opens up for visitors to come in.

He decides to reach for his phone off the nightstand. He spends a couple minutes scrolling through all the photos they have on his phone. Which is beyond a lot. He stumbles across some older ones when they first started dating, and he giggles at how young and goofy they look. It's so obvious how endeared he was by the boy even so early on in the relationship.

An idea ends up springing to his head, and Louis exits out the photos to go to his messages app. Ever since the two of them started talking to one another, he's never once deleted their conversations. Has always kept every single one of them so he takes the time to scroll to the beginning, wanting to watch how everything unfolded through their messages from years ago.

June 12, 2009

Unknown: Knock Knock

Louis: who is this?

Unknown: Play along! Knock Knock.

Louis: fine. who's there?

Unknown: Theodore