Tfios (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter 19

March 25th - Day 67

I was starting to forget what it was like to be truly awake. I felt like I was swimming, water bubbling up into my mouth and making it harder and harder to breathe. It was slowly sinking into quicksand, the oxygen barely making its way to my brain as I tried to keep my head above.

I had so many obligations: to my patients, to Liam, Harry, and myself, but all I wanted to do was sleep and float around in dreams forever. I last saw Harry on Tuesday, only to fall asleep twenty minutes into my visit, waking up at three in the morning, Harry nursing a headache and clutching my fingers.

I could feel myself ripping apart every time I moved, my breathing labored, head swimming with each step. I needed to stop but I didn’t have time, I had to keep running and running and hope I never hit the wall.

I got to Harry’s room around 1, slipping off my toms and setting my stuff on the floor by his bed. He looked up at my entrance, smile melting away as he took in my appearance. He slid out of bed, holding the side for balance as he came towards me, worry in his eyes. I felt frozen to the spot, fully aware of how bedraggled I looked, hollows dug into my cheeks and eyes heavy, but I didn’t have any way to make it better so I just stood there avoiding his gaze.

He brought up a hand almost tentatively, brushing his fingers across my cheek. It was a soft touch, careful like he was afraid he was going to break me, like somehow I’d become something fragile. “Lou, you look awful.”

I nodded, biting my bottom lip hard enough to taste the iron tang of blood in my mouth. I wasn’t quite sure how it had gotten this bad so fast. It hadn’t been too long ago that everything was just fine. I’d had night sweats and I was out of breath more often than not, but it’d been manageable. It seemed like after chemo everything had become a rapid downward spiral I couldn’t pull myself out of.

Harry drew his fingers down my jawline, tender and comforting. I opened my mouth to speak, to tell him I was alright, that he didn’t have to worry about me, only to find that I’d lost my voice somewhere. He kept his gaze on me, patient green eyes waiting for me go on.

“I- I can’t.” And then I was out of words, everything but basic function too much. Breathe in. Breathe out. Keep yourself upright.

Harry watched as the last bit of the normalcy I’d been able to hold together crumbled at the edges, holding his arms out to me. “C’mere love. I’ve got you.”

I reached out, sagging against his chest and letting him hold me up. “I know.” I whispered, voice breaking in the middle of the word. And then suddenly I was crying, clutching at his tee shirt and pressing my face into his shoulders. I let out every frustration I’d tried to keep at bay, my whole body shaking as I let myself fall.

My brain seemed to shut down, desperation and exhaustion reducing me to a shuddering mess in Harry’s arms, barely aware of anything more than the fact that I couldn’t let go and I couldn’t seem to stop crying. Everything was just hopeless, a struggle I was never going to win. 

I was forgetting how to be strong, forgetting how to hold on, even as it was only thing I could seem to do. I understood what Harry had meant when he said dying was like falling, but it was so much more than that. You can’t fight a fall, it doesn’t make your fingers bleed and muscles heave as you try your best to slow your descent. It’s more like paddling against the current, swimming desperately upstream as the water pushes you backwards, pushes you under.

I slowly became aware of Harry’s hands rubbing circles on my back, lips whispering comfort against my skin, pressing kisses into my neck. Despite a quiet fear that I’d never be able to stop the tears, I was eventually able to steady my breathing, pulling back to wipe my eyes.