Tfios (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter 4

February 14th - Day 29

There’s a difference between knowing and understanding. I knew that Harry was dying, I knew he only had so long left to live and that every moment drew him just a little bit farther away from me, but I didn’t really understand until that evening. 

His room, normally lit by the lamp he had clipped to his headboard, was dark, the only light streaming in from the doorway. Through the opening in his half drawn curtains I could see the outline of his lanky frame draped in blue blanket, soft and indistinct in the dim light. 

As I stepped cautiously through the door, a nurse I vaguely recognized ducked out from behind the curtain, a smile breaking across her face as she spotted me. 

“Nice to see you, Mr. Tomlinson.” She whispered, scribbling a quick something on her clipboard and resting it on her hip, pointing over at Harry. “He’s had a headache all morning, pretty bad one from the looks of it, so I don’t know if he’ll want company.”

She stepped back over to where he lay, her voice taking on a soothing tone. “Harry, you have a visitor, is that okay?”

There was a long beat of silence before he let out a yes so quiet it was barely audible. She gave me a nod, moving to leave. “Just try and be quiet. He’s very sensitive to light and noise. And make sure to close the curtain behind you.”

I let her pass me, stepping into the small alcove beside his bed and tugging the curtain shut as I set my messenger bag carefully on the floor. As my eyes began to adjust, the planes and contours of his face came into focus, features covered in a shifting cocoon of shadows. In the half darkness he looked like some kind of angel, and I wondered fleetingly if maybe he was too lovely for this world.

Looking at him was strange. He tangled me up on the inside, my organs rearranging themselves at the sight of him, leaving me jumbled but somehow at peace, like maybe they’d been wrong before. I slid my jacket off and focused my eyes on the floor, feeling embarrassed for a reason I couldn’t pinpoint. I’d missed him this past week, missed him during my other appointments, during cheerful dinners with Liam, and the nights Danielle had dragged us out clubbing. It was safe to say I always missed him a little, that he’d somehow crept into my bones.

I looked around for my chair, finding that since the last time I’d been here it had gotten up and walked away. 

I hung my jacket on the bedpost and moved to sit on the floor, unwilling to let him out of my sight, but knowing that I couldn’t stand at his bedside the whole hour. He’d hung a hand off the side of the bed, his long fingers curling and uncurling slowly like he was looking for something to hold on to. Before I could think too hard about what I was doing, I reached up, letting my fingers wrap in his. He tensed briefly at the contact, our hands fumbling against each other before intertwining, his grip strong and desperate.

“Lou.” He breathed, as if the word caused him physical pain.

“Harry you don’t have to talk, it’s okay.” I replied, scooting up onto my hands and knees. 

He didn’t say anything for a long moment, then finally, two words. “Come up.” 

I stood slowly, letting his fingers slip from mine as I walked around the bed, sitting down on the mattress as carefully as I could. He opened his eyes, blinking a few time before they found mine, wide and glassy and full of pain. I wondered if it was from the headache, or something else entirely. I reached out almost involuntarily, my hand finding his cheek, stroking his pale skin. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

He hummed softly in response, taking my free wrist and using it to guide me into a horizontal position. I lay on my side, the silhouette of his face blurring in the low light. I shouldn’t be doing this, I knew I shouldn’t, but everything about him made my body thrum with something that could only be described as a great irreplaceable calm.