Undone, Undress (Larry Stylinson)

nineteen

"Hey, kiddo," Louis greets as soon as he's through the door, eyeing Harry on the couch. He's wearing plaid pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt, the printed words on the front nearly rubbed off completely from overwear. His knees are pulled to his chest, arms around his legs, bare feet on the edge of the couch cushion. Clifford is snuggled happily to his side. They're watching a cooking show on TV, maybe Chopped . "Alright?"

"Yeah, good," Harry answers, looking the opposite of alright despite his affirmative answer. He's completely downtrodden, his eyes tired. Hands shaking. He looks cold.

Louis grabs the blanket from the armchair and tosses it over to Harry, not relaxing until he bundles up in it, though the shivering still doesn't stop.

"You like mac and cheese, right?"

"You don't have to-"

"You always cook for me," Louis interrupts, pointing out the inarguable truth. They've been eating a lot of meals together lately since Louis never really leaves the apartment anymore except for his classes and Harry doesn't seem so inclined to go out either. "Let me do it for once, yeah?"

Harry sighs and doesn't meet him eyes. His hands are still shaking on top of the blanket. Louis wants to hold them in his own until they stop trembling. "Okay."

He heads to the kitchen and sets the plastic bags down on the countertop. When he grabs the boxes of mac and cheese, the pink head of the bunny peaks out of the bag and Louis immediately blushes at his own stupidity. What was he thinking? How is he supposed to give that to Harry? He's so embarrassed, he nearly chucks it away in the trash or maybe even out the window. He sighs as he gets a pot of water on the stove, thinking maybe he'll just give it to one of his siblings when he finally visits them again.

With two bowls, two wine glasses, and a bottle of red cradled to his chest by his hands, balancing precariously, Louis reenters the living room. Harry immediately rushes to help him, scolding him for carrying so much without asking Harry to help.

"It's fine, it's fine."

They sit down beside each other and dig into their bowls after Harry pours them each a sufficient glass of wine.

"Hey Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I, um. Can I ask you something?"

There's a long, uncomfortable pause where Harry stares down into his bowl of mac and cheese and Louis can practically hear his heart beating anxiously from here. "Ehm... Yeah, of course."

He doesn't know how to ask. He doesn't even really know what to ask, either. There's just so much and none of it makes sense . So he just comes out and says the first question his mind offers:

"How long have you had nightmares?"

If Harry looked uncomfortable before, there isn't a word to describe the magnitude of his discomfort right now, as soon as the words leave Louis' mouth, floating through the air and processing in his mind. But he refuses to take them back.

"Ehm..."

Louis discards his bowl on the table even though he didn't eat all of his dinner, really. He turns on his side and brings his legs up on the couch, curled so he's facing Harry. Hoping to convey a casual and relaxed demeanor, he tips his head to the side and rests it on the back of the couch, softening his face into a less intense expression. "Months?" He asks. "Or longer?"

"I've had them since- Since I was a kid."

Oh. Louis gnaws on his thumb nervously at that. A big part of him had been hoping Harry's nightmares were a recent occurrence, a byproduct of his unhealthy relationship. It had been a possibility, but if he's been having nightmares since childhood...