Undone, Undress (Larry Stylinson)

forty-nine

A long time later he hears voices and footsteps in the hallway and stands up abruptly. He left the door open but he can't see anything because it's dark. Nothing sounds inherently wrong but he's still so worried, anxiety is bubbling through his veins.

It's not a fun feeling. Especially when he can hear hushed whispering. Not Harry's voice. Harry is quiet and submissive. Louis knows him well enough to be certain he would never speak back to his parents.

It's strange, because to some extent Louis understands. Harry has faced abuse since childhood and the trauma has taken its toll on him. The resulting psychological damage is severe. It explains why Harry jumps every time he hears Louis enter the room—an innate reaction from years of verbal and physical punishment, most times probably for doing nothing wrong at all.

The whispering stops sharply and a door closes down the hall, not Harry's but his parents'. Louis waits with bated breath for a moment before deciding it's safe and stepping out into the hall. He slips into Harry's room but knocks quietly on the doorframe to announce his presence. He watches through the dark, with only the hallway light creeping into the room, as Harry jumps at the sound.

"Hey H, it's me," Louis whispers stupidly, not waiting for an invitation before he crosses the room and sits on the edge of the bed. "Everything alright?"

"They'll kill us if they find you in here," Harry whispers, eyes wide, hands shaking. He isn't crying but he looks close to it, his dark eyes shiny and glistening. In the lack of light, they look black and fearful.

"It's alright," Louis soothes, smoothing a hand up Harry's arm. "They've gone to bed already. They won't find me in here."

"Okay," Harry concedes, but he doesn't relax.

He doesn't look like he's going to say anything, either. So Louis takes it upon himself to ask, "So what did you guys talk about?"

"They want me to move out. They don't want me to live with you anymore."

"What?" Of all the topics of conversation he could've guessed, he isn't sure why he never thought of that one. There's a beat of silence where the words sink in, and Louis is faced with the idea of living alone again, this time without Harry.

It was easier before he knew what he was missing, not to live with Harry. He hadn't minded staying inside all alone, never going out with friends, acting depressed—no, probably suffering from actual depression. Just going to his classes and doing his work and moping around, always.

Now, the thought of Harry leaving him has a dark, heavy weight sinking to the pit of his stomach. His heart beats a little faster and in that moment, everything in his body aches.

Harry can't leave him.

He thinks of how they've become so codependent on each other these past few months. He thinks about how much they need each other. How it's mutual, that even though it seems like Harry needs Louis more to wake him from his nightmares and hold him close to calm him down, Louis needs Harry just as much, if not more.

He needs Harry to be there when he gets home from a long day at classes and the lab. He needs to hear him singing in the shower or watch him make dinner for them together. He needs to sit on the couch and rest his head again his shoulder and watch Planet Earth with him until he falls asleep just like that before it's even nine o'clock. He needs to be hugged when he's tired or sad or cold or any in between, he needs to feel that warm steady body against his and that even steadier beat of his heart that tells them they're both alive together, that here in this moment they are both living and breathing, occupying adjacent spaces in this godforsaken universe and somehow hanging on, despite it all.