Tfios (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter 6

February 21st - Day 36 

I knew as soon as I walked in that it was a Good Day. It had been fairly sunny all afternoon, for London at least, with tiny rays sliding through the cloud cover. What started out as a pleasant day had faded into a lovely violet sunset, the very last of which was peeking through Harry’s curtains. He was laying with his head at the bottom of the bed, his head resting on his hands, the last few minutes of what looked like an episode of Skins playing on the tv mounted on the wall.

He smiled lopsidedly when he saw me, rolling so he was belly up. 

“Skins?” I asked, noticing my blue chair’s return and pulling it over so I could see the television. Danielle, Liam, and I had plowed through the first and second seasons when we’d all come down with the flu just after moving in together, and most of my memories of the show were clouded by delirium and sickness.

“E4’s been marathoning the first season all day. I’m having fun, though I don’t think the nurses are really enjoying the amount of fucks currently coming from my room.”

“Well it certainly livens up the place.” I replied, pulling my bag onto my lap and watching Tony and Sid flit across the screen. “So how are you today?”

“Floating.” He said, taking an immense amount of delight in the cryptic quality of his answer.

“Oh really?” I asked with a grin, this new ebullience rubbing off on me. I remembered the first time I’d met him, when he wouldn’t even meet my gaze. It was amazing to watch him now, the flashes of the boy he could have been manifesting every time he looked at me. I still couldn’t believe he’d opened up like this, it was amazing really, and made my stomach twist in a private kind of happiness. Of course, he was still sick, but it hung around the edges of him instead of saturating his body.

He winked gaudily at me. “Though that might just be the heroin.”

A laugh burst out of me before I could stop it, the way he’d contorted himself on the bed combined with the complete illogic of his statement making it impossible to keep a straight face. “Babe, if you were on heroin I don’t think you’d be quite so pretty.”

He gasped, fluttering his eyelashes at me. “Are you saying I’m pretty?”

“For a pale, curly haired hermit you aren’t so bad.” I replied, wondering what had spurred this sudden good mood.

“Someone’s looking cheerful.” The nurse from two weeks ago was hovering in the doorway, a friendly expression on her face.

“As cheerful as a slow painful death can be.” He grinned lopsidedly at me as he replied, like the quip hadn’t really been for her at all.

She gave an uncertain smile, looking at me to try and gauge whether or not he was joking. “We’ve upped his painkillers, so he’ll be a bit loopy until his body gets used to them. He’s not going to be all that steady on his feet either, even more so than usual.” 

Well that certainly explained the near abandonment of his former composure. I decided I quite liked him this way, still sarcastic and the smallest bit vulgar, but tinted by a lighter, sillier quality.

“Alright, thankyou.” I offered her my best professional smile.

She smiled back, evidently satisfied with my apparent responsibility. “Just call me in if you need me.”

“Will do.” I sent her a salute, turning back to look at Harry, who was still grinning at me from the bed, his fingers tracing the hem of his tee shirt in a way that was actually fairly distracting.

“Well thank goodness we got rid of her, eh?” 

He nodded smartly. “Ew. Girls.”

I tugged his file out of my bag, using it to whack him on the leg. “Not all girls are bad. Danielle makes killer cupcakes, remember?”