Undone, Undress (Larry Stylinson)

fifty-six

The weather gets worse throughout the day and so do the roads. By the time they're almost to the hotel, Louis can barely see ten feet in front of the car due to all the snow. He's driving slowly with his hazards on, hoping other drivers are being careful too. Definitely not in the mood to get into an accident today.

Harry woke up around lunchtime, demanding they stop for milkshakes. Louis was on board, but afterwards they were both shivering and wondering why milkshakes were a good idea in the middle of December. At least the sugar made them hyper.

Now, Harry is practically bouncing in his seat as he tells Louis of an art project where a lady self-portrait photographer posed in positions that made her look like she had committed suicide, and people on the streets would sometimes approach her worriedly. Louis sees the art in it, but it's also quite a bit morbid, and it worries him that Harry thinks this is so normal.

He thinks of all the times Harry has talked about killing himself, and that sends an icy chill down his spine, as if he accidentally left the car window open and a gust of wind blew inside. The thought of Harry even considering something so dark makes his heart sink. He's worried, and he vows to make sure that'll never happen, no matter what.

"It's heartwarming," Harry gushes, talking about the strangers who would kneel beside the artist's still body and prod at her gently.

Louis agrees reluctantly. "I guess, yeah." He's still thinking of what he would do if something happened to Harry, but he can't even begin to picture it.

He reaches over the empty space between them and holds his hand out, palm up.

Harry's hand slots perfectly into his own.

He feels a little better, now. A little more grounded, knowing and feeling that Harry is safe for now at least.