Deep in Thought: A Larry Stylinson Story

Without

Louis

     Louis watched his feet as Harry spoke. The words tore him apart. "Pretend it didn't happen." Right. Louis could pretend nothing happened this time, but they had already been together so much...

     Louis just wanted his Hazza back. This Harry from two years ago, the one who didn't remember all that they'd been through, was not his Harry. He went to bed that night without eating, and didn't actually sleep. He didn't even doze; he just lay awake in bed for hours and hours, or that's what he felt like, anyway. He must have fallen asleep a little, because before he realised it was daylight. He stretched and his hand searched his bed, looking for his Harry he knew he wouldn't find, but he had to try anyway.

     The whole flat seemed empty, and Louis was reminded of how the hospital wouldn't let him stay with Harry for the first night. It had been the most awful time of his life. At least this Harry was awake; the worry that had been eating up inside him had been terrible then. Now it was just heartbreak. And maybe a little worry. He hoped Harry was getting more sleep than he was. Probably, since Louis was just used to sleeping with Harry, and he couldn't sleep without Harry in the room on a good day.

     Louis didn't eat breakfast that day. He had an apple at lunch, but he couldn't choke the whole thing down. He threw it away with three bites taken from it.

     Louis did something that evening that he hadn't done on months: he looked up the X-Factor video diaries. He cried whenever Harry looked at him the way he used to, like he was perfect, like he was the greatest thing that had ever happened to him. He cried hardest the diary he watched where he and Harry hadn't been getting on well. It made him remember all the fights they'd ever had, just a handful of them, leading up to the one right before- right before Harry forgot everything.

     Louis blamed himself for that night. He had been being a giant dick all day because he didn't like flying, and the trip to Germany had been miserable at best. He even looked at some of the comments from fans, and many of them were about 'Larry Stylinson moments'. He loved that name so much, loved how some of the fans saw them together and loved them. Would it ever be like that again?

     Louis left the computer, still crying, and went to the couch. The duvet he and Harry had slept in was still there and he pulled it around himself. It smelled like his Haz. He buried his face in it and just cried; he cried like he had when he found Harry at the bottom of the stairs, sobs that wracked his whole body and made his stomach hurt. Louis remembered all the times he'd been crying and Harry was there, always there, and without him... Without him, he didn't think he could go on.

     Thinking like that, he couldn't breathe. Harry... He had kissed him there, in the bathroom. There might be hope, right? Louis just had to keep being the supporting friend he was trying to be, instead of the supporting lover.

     But Harry had said to pretend it had never happened, and Louis wasn't used to not doing whatever Harry wanted. If Harry thought that it would be better to just ignore it, Louis would. It broke his heart, and he wanted it so, so badly, but... He didn't want to hurt Harry, as fragile as he was. He would pretend, just for Harry's sake.

     Louis abandoned the couch then, and opted for Harry's room. His bed smelled like Harry's body, his pillows smelled like his perfect curly hair, and Louis found that some measure of rest was possible just surrounded in the best smell he could ever remember, the smell of his lover.

     The next morning he had to get up early, so better turn in early. He was eager to see Harry again, going this long without him was making him wild with want and loneliness and worry. Wrapped in Harry's scent was almost like being in Harry's arms, but not quite. It wasn't good enough to chase away the terrible nightmare that he had that night.

     Louis was at a pool, for some reason, and it was snowing, but it wasn't cold. He was swimming around, exploring the depths of the pocket of water, and then he went down in the deep end. The water there was much bluer, and filled with fish and sea creatures. He was amazed by the simple beauty of it all, and it could only be better if his Hazza was there.

     Not long after that thought, Louis came across something odd in his search. One of the plants at the bottom of the sea was too dark, and it waved in an odd way. He swam that way, wanting to see it. It looked almost like... Hair.

     He reached out and touched the hair, wondering what it could be. The current underwater shifted slightly, and seaweed moved away from a familiar form.

     It was Harry. His lips were blue, and his eyes were open, but unseeing. His expression was lax, and there was none of the rosey perfection in his cheeks that there usually was. He was... Dead.

     Louis was suddenly freezing in the water, and he reached out to stoke the face of the person he loved more than anything. He lifted him from the cold, hard seabed and craddled him in his arms, floating on an endless wave of pain and freezing water.

     Harry's dull green eyes suddenly moved, startling the now crying Louis. They stayed lifeless, but Harry's body drew Louis close.

     "This," said the monotone voice that used to be Harry's, "is all your fault. You did this to me." And then the lifeless Harry winked into nothing, leaving Louis alone in the freezing, pitch black ocean. Alone.

     After that, Louis woke up. His face was wet, and his lips were parted in a silent scream. He called Liam, and a groggy voice answered. Louis demanded that Liam check on Harry, right now. Liam was confused, but did as he was told.

     "He's fine, Lou," Liam said, miffed. "He's sleeping like a... Well, a baby. They wake up every couple o' hours cryin', don' they?" Louis was annoyed, too, but relieved. If Harry had only been there with him, he wouldn't have needed to rely on Liam's secondhand information.

     "I'm goin' back to sleep, Lou," Liam mumbled, and then he hung up.

     Louis couldn't sleep any more. He was afraid of his dreams, and he wasn't tired anymore after the adrenaline rush he got from being completely terrified. He made himself some tea, and then sad at the breakfast bar, waiting for morning.

     If Louis had thought he would do something else in the three hours until breakfast, he was wrong. He sat and stared. He drank tea, glad for the caffeine. It seemed the only thing keeping him alive these days.

     He stared, and tried not to think about Harry. It didn't work.