Hold me close {{Larry one-shots and drabbles}}[ON HOLD]

You still have all of me

When Louis realizes that Harry never really left him..
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Louis just wants it to be okay.

He doesn’t want to feel like his lungs are burning, and he wants to not feel like he’s breaking.

He wants it to stop hurting, he wants to breathe.

He wants to be okay, just okay.

January

It’s been a while since Louis has seen Harry. Three months to be exact, and he’s still no close to figuring out what he actually feels now that the boy is gone. It’s still unsettling in a way, to wake up to not see Harry next to him; it’s still strange to know that Harry isn’t there. But then there’s Michael. Michael who is real, who is a person not living in Louis’s head, and the first person Louis has met in a while-a long, long while- who is actually okay with Louis being a little, not normal.

Michael, who had come to the library on a cold Saturday morning, clutching notebooks and looking visibly frazzled. He needed to know where the World History section was and Louis had pointed him to the right shelf. Michael had returned many hours later with a smile on his face and thanked Louis.  Louis had been surprised that he had even said an ‘it’s okay’ in reply. But when he went home that night, Louis was thinking about Michael’s blue eyes like his own, but darker, more black, the messy brown hair and the nice smile. That was the first time he had ever ignored Harry.

But Harry was still with him.

Michael began to come regularly to the library and Louis found that he was actually looking forward to see him.  He stuttered when Michael talked to him, but Michael didn’t seem to mind. Three weeks after they first met Michael asked Louis out for a coffee, and Louis dropped the pile of books he was carrying. In between laughing and picking up the books Louis had said yes, blushing and stumbling over his words.

All this while Harry stood quietly in the background, so quiet that Louis for the first time forgot about him.

For Louis, it was nothing less than a miracle to actually meet someone who didn’t mind talking to him (Harry, a voice had said in his head, but wasn’t even Harry in his head?), and who also wasn’t his mother or sisters (Harry the voice had again said, but Louis had decided to ignore it now). So he began to think about Michael a little more, began to think about the times when their hands brushed against each other, thought about how he was always smiling with Michael. Of course, he began to notice Harry was gone for most of the day, appearing now only when Louis was just about to sleep, whispering a ‘goodnight’ before sleep overtook Louis. But it was surprisingly easy to brush that aside.

So, while Harry slowly faded away, Michael just became clearer, more radiant.  The fact that Harry didn’t say anything, or do anything made it easier. When Michael kissed Louis for the first time, that night was the first of many nights when Harry never came back. It hurt, Louis wondered what could have happened, but Harry wasn’t there to give him the answers.  But he had Michael, and maybe Louis thought he would be okay. No matter how strangely empty it felt when he woke up to an empty room, and the silence that surrounded him all of a sudden.

April

It’s a million times worse, every dark thought; every dark voice in his head is clawing for a way out. His skin feels filthy; his entire body is shaking like he’s stuck in the middle of a snow storm. The scratches on his arms and legs are like tattoos, carved and etched onto his skin.

“I should have known earlier Louis, you’d be a disappointment. But it’s okay, it was fun nevertheless,” Michael grabs his shirt from the floor, his leery gaze wandering over Louis’s trembling body. “Take care Lou,” he crouches near the bed, pulling Louis’s face nearer and kisses his roughly, his grip is painful causing Louis to let out a pained gasp and then he’s gone, the door slamming shut behind him.

Louis doesn’t even think that he’s in his body anymore; it's this swirling mess, like his own personal whirlpool inside of him. The things around Louis are alternating between being painfully clear and blurry the next moment. It’s maddening, his body hurts and his head feels like it weighs a ton. He needs to…And Louis doesn’t even know what to do.

He faintly remembers the cold, stinging water on his body. He remembers how it hurt when the water hit the bruises, but then it’s still fuzzy around the edges, like he is missing out on something important, something vital. It’s too much to think about, and Louis can’t take it anymore. A wave of exhaustion and pain crashes over him and it’s much too easier to just fall into the comfort of the darkness.

Michael.

The name is what wakes him up, God knows how many hours later and the fear and the terror is back again. Louis can’t breathe, the air is suddenly cloying and thick and Louis needs to move, he needs to get away. But the voices, his voice is loud in the room, echoing off the walls and Louis feels paralysed.

Louis has no idea; he has no fucking clue what time it is, what day it is. He’s curled up in the corner of the room, his body still trembling, his heart still pounding and all he can think about is Michael returning, and everything starting all over again. He keeps his eyes tightly closed, desperate for anything to just make disappear. Maybe if he cut, maybe if he made himself bleed it could all go away, but he doesn’t want to move.

Louis guesses it’s been three days, or maybe four, he doesn’t really know. But Michael hasn’t come back and Louis thinks it’s not going to start all over again. So he gets up, his body on autopilot and his mind sort of shutting down. Everything begins to look clear and blurry at the same time, but he doesn’t care now. No he doesn’t, he doesn’t even feel anything.

But he still feels his lungs are burning, he still feels like he’s breaking. He wants it to stop hurting like this, he wants to breathe.

“Louis.” 

And Louis knows that voice, he knows it too well, and when he looks up Harry’s in front of him and this time as Harry reaches out to touch Louis lightly- just brushing his fingers- on his forehead, Louis thinks Harry is clear enough to not go away this time.

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This is part two of ‘Things in his head’, and I think maybe the ending is little bit , umm just rushed?