Green Eyes | Larry Stylinson ❀

The Dream

They hold hands as Louis guides them through the endless hall of the black room. He's not sure where they are going, but at least they are finally together. Harry's no longer alone. He's got his boyfriend with him. His hand in his. Ever since he decided to stay with him, everything about this room has changed. The way he feels about it is different. He feels warmth. Comfort. Safety. It feels like home, is what he's concluded.

Louis holds his hand all the time. Always squeezing it. Always kissing across his knuckles. And if he's not doing that, then he's brushing his fingers through his hair. His touch being so soft and familiar. Every kiss he gives to Harry's lips has a lasting effect. There's always a trace left behind, so that the kiss stays with him long after they are finished. It's like all these different sensations are now heightened, and he holds on to it forever. Embraces it. Because he has Louis now. He has him with him. It might not be their apartment in London, but at least he's not alone.

All of this, it makes him feel alive. As if he was nothing before. It doesn't necessarily make sense, but with every touch or kiss, it brings him to life. Louis' always had that affect on him, and he loves him so much. Wishes he could just shout it out to the world at times.

"What are you thinking about, darling?" Louis ends up asking in the midst of the silence, slowing their steps down. He then turns to face him, smiling softly and wraps his arms around Harry's body, pulling him in close and sneaking a hand underneath his shirt.

T he warm press of his palm sends a shiver through Harry's spine, and he giggles, leans forward and nudges their noses together. Louis kisses him, proper on the lips. When he pulls back, he rest their foreheads together, and all Harry can focus on is the shine in his bright, blue eyes. Their touch feels so real. So tangible and warm. He focuses on it, with all his might about how this strong sensation ignites his entire body.

They stand close together like that for a moment. Breathing in each other's air. And then the room suddenly changes. There is a gush of wind, but it pushes the two of them together. Closer than before. Harry's eyes slip shut as it happens again, feels the way Louis' arms tighten around him. And then when he opens his eyes up, the black room has been replaced to a white one. Everything now illuminated in light colors.

His heart jumps in his chest, and new found hope twirls inside his body.

"Nothing," he answers the question from before, smiling hopefully. "I just love you, is all. Love you a lot."

Louis laughs lightly and kisses him again. "Well, that surely is not nothing now is it, dear?" He teases.

Harry laughs breathily in response and lets himself be kissed once more. This time, when they pull apart, he looks around the room. Everything is so bright and light that it's almost blinding. It's a stark contrast to the black room he is normally in. It doesn't make sense. None of it does, and it brings on a new wave of confusion. It starts to make his head hurt, like a dull throb that does not seem to get better. This is a newfound pain that he doesn't quite enjoy.

"What's going on?" he questions. His eyes do something, they blur a bit. But not because of tears. Spontaneously. It's like a sharp flash of light crosses his pupils, and he quickly closes them before opening them up again. Then he feels something sharp trail across his cheek and he jerks away from it. His heart jumps again.

"What do you mean?" Louis asks in response, brows furrowed together in confusion.

Harry takes in a heavy, deep breath, feels the air fill up his lungs, and then he pushes it out between his lips. Does it a couple more times before there is relief. Relief spreading across his chest. "I don't - I don't understand," he mutters. There's something wet that gets dabbed on his skin. On his arms and legs, but when he looks down, he sees nothing. It doesn't make sense. "This isn't a dream. Is it?"

Louis chuckles, and it's so strong that it nearly echoes across the room. "Your brain is working."

That doesn't make sense. When is his brain ever not working? Has it not been this whole time? This must be what the white room represents. Or something. He's still trying to figure out why he has all these weird and strange sensations spreading across his body. Doesn't get why every time Louis kisses or touches him, it's a heightened feeling.

All their memories together, it's always felt like a movie being played. Being in the black room, made him feel alone and empty. But now, it's different. Something is different about the room and about him, and it's confusing. The dull throb in his head hurts, and it won't stop.

"I don't - I don't get it," He complains, taking a step back from Louis' hold.

"Your brain hasn't been working properly, dear," Louis explains gently, slowly. "It's been turned off. You haven't been able to think or create your own thoughts."

"But the flashbacks - "

"Just memories. They're stuff that has already happened. Something stored away in your brain. Think of it like a movie. It just plays. You haven't been able to create any new movies until now."

Harry shakes his head, and for some reason, it makes the room spin for just a moment. "The black room," he wonders, more as a statement than a question.

"The black room is when your mind opens up to the outside world. That part of you that's been clinging on to life."

"Outside world?" Harry questions.

Louis nods as he places a careful hand on top of Harry's head. The touch is so warm and strong. "Yeah. S' where all of us visit and talk to you. Friends. Family. Me. At least why you're stuck like this."

There is a sinking feeling in his chest as he looks over at his boyfriend. His head gets a little woozy at trying to process everything. There is a sudden achey pain he feels in his right shoulder, and he reaches up to touch it. Another one follows in his ankle and wrist. "What am I like?"

"Unconscious," he states. "In a coma."

Harry's eyes widen horrifically, and he takes a few steps back. His chest now tightens and his stomach churns. "A coma?" he questions, just to make sure. "I'm unconscious?"

"Relax, baby," Louis soothes, reaching out for him, grabbing his left hand once more and squeezing. The touch sends a jolt to his heart, and suddenly, he feels safe and warm. "You're coming around. Your brain is starting to work again. That's good."

Harry blinks owlishly, confused. "It's working?"

Louis nibbles on his lip and then scratches his forearm. It's a bit painful, so he jerks his arm away. "You feel that?"

"I do. Yeah."

Then there is a flash of light that passes through his eyes again, and Harry quickly shuts them.

"And that?" Louis checks.

"Gosh, yes," Harry complains, rubbing his eyes before opening them up. "Stop doing that."

Louis laughs fondly and pulls him back into his hold, hugging him tight. "Your body has a reason to stay. To fight and not give up. It's giving you the motivation to wake up." Harry blinks again, swallowing nervously. "Just need the right trick to get your brain to tell your eyes to open."

"Do I stay in the white room then?" he wonders.

"Well, yes. If your brain continues to turn on."

Harry begins to feel even more hopeful. "So my eyes are almost open then?" He tries to squeeze Louis' hand as he goes to hold it, but realizes he can't quite do that just yet. Only thing he can do is feel the way their fingers lace together perfectly.

"Yeah. They're almost opened, sunshine," he whispers to him softly.