fighting love » l.s.

twenty seven - haunted

In the middle of the night, Louis carefully untangled himself from Harry's warm body, despite the boy's unconscious complaints, and padded quietly into the bathroom. Despite the knowledge that Harry wasn't even awake to miss him, he was reluctant to leave. Unfortunately, he really had to pee.

He did his business and as he was washing his hands, he observed his reflection in the mirror. He looked like hell -- he had dark circles under his eyes and he looked like he hadn't slept in weeks. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't really slept in weeks. Nothing felt right without Harry beside him.

His reflection cracked a smile at the mere thought of the boy, and as his mind echoed with Harry, Harry, Harry, he thought to himself: this must be love.

He may have still looked like hell, but he felt better than he had in weeks. The awful appearance would fade, but he hoped that the happy feelings vibrating in his chest wouldn't. Not for a long time. Not ever.

Harry's voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he dried his hands quickly before heading back to the room. The younger boy was saying something loudly enough for Louis to hear from the bathroom, but he couldn't quite make out the words.

"Please, no," Harry's voice moaned, his words becoming clearer and clearer as Louis made his way down the hall. The older boy quickly headed back into the bedroom, squinting in the darkness to make out Harry's figure on the bed.

The boy was tossing and turning violently, and Louis immediately remembered the first night he and Harry had spent together. He didn't realize that nightmares were a common occurrence for Harry, but this was the second time and only the second full night they had spent alone together.

"Help, please," Harry whined, grasping a handful of blankets in a tight fist. "Please, no, no."

Louis slipped back into bed and, just like he'd done the first night with Harry, pulled the boy into his lap. "Hey, baby, it's just a dream," he assured him, rubbing Harry's back as he gently tried to coax him awake. "Come back to me, I'm right here, love."

Harry sniffled once more before jolting awake, flinching violently against Louis's chest. "Lou?"

"I'm right here, Haz," Louis replied calmly, tightening his arms around Harry's body.

"I'm sorry," Harry said immediately. "I'm sorry you always have to deal with this -- with me."

"Love, does this happen often? You've never told me," Louis asked, leaning back so he could make Harry's face out through the darkness.

Harry raised his bright eyes to meet Louis's, sitting up in bed to create space between them and pulling his knees to his chest. "It's not every night, but probably most nights," he admitted. "I don't want to worry you about something so, I don't know, so stupid. I feel stupid."

"It's not your fault. What are the dreams about?"

Harry's breath caught in his throat, not sure if he should tell Louis or not considering the boy's reaction the first time he talked about what happened to him last year, finally saying quietly, "They're always the same."

"About what you told me earlier tonight?" Louis asked, reaching out to place his hand on Harry's knee.

Harry nodded, willing the tears behind his eyes not to fall.

"That's nothing to be ashamed of, then," Louis said firmly, squeezing Harry's knee lightly. "You couldn't control what happened to you, so it's natural that you can't control your dreams."

"Really? You don't -- I don't know, you don't think I'm disgusting for it?"

"For something that some bastard did against your will?" Louis scoffed, appalled. He scooted closer to the younger boy so they were facing each other, placing both of his hands on Harry's legs. "Harry, it was not your fault. I'm sorry that I reacted, well, badly when you first told me, but I hope you know that I would never think any differently of you for something like this."

"You seemed so angry when I told you, Lou," Harry admitted, shivering slightly at the memory. "I thought you would never talk to me again. Never look at me the same way again."

"I was angry, but not at you. I just couldn't believe that someone would do something like that do someone so beautiful and kind as you," Louis said, leaning his chin on Harry's knee and studying the younger boy's face through the darkness. "So perfect."

Harry rolled his eyes, shaking his head, but Louis could see the blush on his cheeks even in the darkness. So he took his chance and leaned in, pressing his hands to Harry's cheeks and capturing Harry's lips in his.

Harry smiled into the kiss, almost not believing that Louis was kissing him and this beautiful, blue-eyed boy was all his. No girlfriend, just them. Harry and Louis. Louis and Harry.

Louis pulled away, grinning widely as he flopped back on the bed. "Can we go back to sleep now?" he yawned, sighing contently through warm, tingly lips.

"More to talk about in the morning," Harry mumbled, laying down beside Louis and turning over on his side.

Louis rolled over and wrapped an arm around Harry's waist, burying his face in the back of Harry's neck. Harry smiled, truly happy and safe for the first time in a while in Louis's arms as he fell asleep, hoping he was free of nightmares at least for the night.

On the other hand, Louis couldn't seem to fall asleep, even after Harry's breathing steadied out and the boy relaxed in his arms. He couldn't stop thinking about Harry's nightmares and the cuts on his arms and how he had contributed to Harry's pain.

As Harry slept peacefully in his arms, Louis found himself haunted by guilt, worry, and regret.