Chapter Text
The first time Harry wakes up it’s to the hammered beeping of machines. His head is so heavy he can’t move. He can’t see. There’s a tube down his throat. He can’t breathe. He blacks out from the fear.
--
When Harry was 12 his mum handed him a honey cake, kissed his temple and pushed him into the garden to go greet their new neighbors.
The heat was unbearable that summer, sticky skin and blotchy cheeks every time he stepped outside but he can see his mum on the phone in the kitchen and doesn’t want to get roped into hearing about his uncle’s ankle surgery again so he jumps off the steps towards the gate connecting his yard to the next.
He takes his sweet time, scuffs his sneakers at the displaced stones near the fountain his step dad built his mum last spring. Kneels and follows a spider weaving through its web from one rosebush to another. The cake is light swinging in his hand when he crosses over the threshold into the Williams- no, they moved away, he can’t remember the name of this new family- yard and is standing on the other side of the tall brick wall that separated the properties.
Their lawn is much less manicured than his, weeds sprouting from weeks of neglect between one family leaving and another moving in. Their picnic table is littered with fallen leaves, dirt covers the small colored marbles and sea glass normally glittering the pathway from Mrs. Williams whimsical phase and the ivy she planted years ago continue to creep up their side of the brick wall. It’s always reminded him of fairies hollows.
He doesn’t realize he’s being watched until he glances up towards the house and there’s a boy standing in the middle of the small garden, a tiny girl perched on one hip and another trying to crawl up his side. He’s small and thin with kinda spiky brown hair and tired blue eyes. He’s not wearing a shirt. His skin looks warm and drizzled in honey and there are tan freckles on his nose.
He’s so pretty.
Harry freezes right on the spot.
They just stare at each other for a few seconds, the boy adjusting the squirming child on his hip and the other girl starting to pull at his khaki shorts. Harry can see the line of his tan, he can see where the spice of his stomach ends and the milky paleness of his hips begins. He can’t breathe.
“Hi?” The boy makes to step closer but he must read something on Harry’s face because he stops, eyes sliding over Harry curiously.
Harry drops the cake.
Well, almost. It fumbles out of his hands and he makes a loud yelp of a noise as he somehow catches the white linen it’s wrapped in just before the small cake bounces off his knee and into the dirt. His arms are twisted up in a knot as his fingers barely hold the small cake and he’s just frozen there. The boy’s eyes on him and Harry’s eyes are on the ground. He can feel the heat creeping over his face. He’s so embarrassed.
So harry runs. He doesn’t dare look back as he dashes back through the gate, leaving it wide open. He runs right up his steps and almost kicks the door in trying to get into the house.
“Harry?” His mum is sitting at the table still, cup of tea in her hand and a magazine open. He nearly slams into the wall at her voice. “What are you doing? Why are you so red- what happened? Why do you still have the Tomlinson’s cake?”
Harry looks down, ears ringing and hands trembling to see the honey cake broken in his fingers and crumbles falling to the floor. “Oops.”
He doesn’t leave the house for the rest of the weekend.
--
Harry remembers when Louis left the house with Hannah and came home with Greg.
Louis. That’s his name, the pretty boy that lived next door to him, Louis Tomlinson. Well, Louis started dating a girl he went to school with named Hannah when he was 17. She was tall with blonde hair and boobs and Louis would walk her home every single day. Sometimes he would carry her on his back as she giggled and wrapped her long legs around his waist. Sometimes he would just carry her books and laugh at her jokes while tucking her hair behind her ear and sneaking a kiss to her neck.
Hannah was really popular, her mum used to be a model and she got to wear make-up before all the other girls in her year and she was generally seen as quite the catch. So it didn’t surprise Harry when Louis started dating her because Louis was really, really popular too. He played footie and listened to the coolest bands and because his mum was a nurse he was always home alone bringing girls back to his house to do stuff.
And Harry watched it all. He wasn’t some weirdo recluse or anything; in fact he was rather popular in his own private school his parents insisted he attend. He had friends, he did his own stuff with girls or whatever but none of that really mattered. Because as soon as his friends would leave or Suzie-what’s-her-face would wipe her mouth with the back of her hand and press a kiss to his lips to sneak out the back door he would find himself sitting on the perch of his bedroom window watching and waiting for Louis to come home.
Watching and waiting to see what Louis was doing. Was he practicing footie in their back garden? Was he fetching the mail for his mum? Fighting with his sister Lottie to put on her jacket before she gets a cold? What was he wearing that day? Did he get a haircut? It looks shorter in the back. Is he sneaking a cigarette behind the big tree by the window, again? Harry wasn’t obsessive, he wouldn’t sit there for hours waiting for Louis to walk past his window or anything, but he did enjoy the little peeks into Louis’ life.
Harry wouldn’t call them friends, is the thing. After that horribly embarrassing incident when Harry was 12 -- practically a baby, honestly -- Louis has always been very kind. Always lending him flour when his mum makes him walk over and sometimes bringing the paper to their front door on Sundays, barefoot and blue-eyed.
So when Louis leaves the house one afternoon with Hannah on his arm Harry doesn’t even blink. It’s when, and Harry remembers it like a fevered dream, but it’s when he looks out his window much later that night to see Louis’s small frame engulfed by none other than the town’s golden boy Greg James that he almost falls from his perch. He’s frozen where he sits, fingers fisting the thin curtains of his window watching Greg push Louis against his car and kiss him for what felt like days. Harry feels faint, overheated and so absurdly hurt he doesn’t know what to do with himself. For a second he’s not even watching the boys kiss in the darkness, his eyes too unfocused as he feels his body sway from side to side.
He hears Louis’ whine into the night, soft and so fucking sweet in the cool nighttime air and his eyes find their way back to the two. Greg’s taken a step back now as Louis coyly tries to fix his hair, longer and shaggier than it used to be. He’s 18 now; shoulders filling out, legs long, eyes still as bright as ever when he wraps his jean jacket tighter around his body.
Harry glances at the clock by his bed: it’s half three in the morning and Louis Tomlinson is snogging a boy outside his house. A boy.
A boy.
Harry doesn’t watch Louis leave Greg, doesn’t want to see anymore. He feels so empty; so alone… Harry’s completely heart broken when he falls into his sheets, tears stinging his eyes from the betrayal. He feels so silly.
--
Greg James is a phase, a chapter in Louis’ ever interesting life.
Harry watches Louis sulk around his house, angrily kicking his football against their brick wall late into the night when Greg goes off to Norwich for uni as Louis starts his gap year.
It doesn’t last for long; Louis falls head over heels for a girl named Eleanor Calder and never looks back.
Eleanor actually goes to Harry’s private school, she’s gorgeous and kind with a heart shaped face and lots of her daddy’s money. She takes Louis to islands off the coast of France and brings him back with buttery skin and pink lips. She dresses him up in cuffed khaki trousers and expensive cardigans and he leaves a trail of Gucci cologne when he walks by. Louis walks around looking so gorgeous Harry runs out and gets a job for the summer just for the distraction.
Harry gets a job at the local bakery. That’s where he meets the owner’s son Niall. Harry bakes the goods, Niall eats the goods. He also runs deliveries when they get busy and does inventory when he gets bored but mostly he just eats and laughs and listens to Harry mutter pathetically about his unrequited love for Louis Tomlinson and how hopeless his life is. Because it was, before he met Niall.
Niall’s the only person who knows Harry likes boys, or at least Harry thinks he likes boys. He likes Louis, but that’s about it. He’d been in the middle of a nervous breakdown for the longest time after he’d seen Louis and Greg together, tearing his hair out and refusing to look anyone, girl or boy, in the eyes for weeks. But then he meets Niall and one day Niall cracks a joke about Harry checking out his bum while he unloads the dry goods deliveries and Harry had started crying right then and there kneading pumpernickel bread dough.
Niall had just wrapped Harry in his arms and told him it was okay, that Niall did have the best bum in town and that Harry shouldn’t be ashamed to admire it, he shouldn’t be ashamed of anything. And that was it, that was all that needed to be said. From that day on Niall was always careful to use the right pronouns around Harry and even started pointing out blokes he found attractive, “Look, Haz, if I ever had to pick a guy…”
--
Niall’s three sheets to the wind right now, skinny legs spread out as his body sinks into the grass of Harry’s garden. The sun set hours ago and in its place they lit a fire in Harry’s firepit and decided to get wonderfully drunk.
Niall’s leaving in the morning.
Harry’s fingers are calloused and raw from a summer of learning how to play Niall’s old guitar. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do tomorrow. His best friend is leaving him. Going back to Ireland first thing in the morning with all of his memories and all of his secrets and it’s something he’s been denying himself for months. He doesn’t want to think about it. Doesn’t want to deal with the changes in his life and how he’s supposed to wake up tomorrow and keep going without Niall by his side. Harry takes a double shot of whiskey and tilts his head back to look at the stars.
Harry’s headed to Manchester for uni in a few weeks too, but he doesn’t like talking about it. What’s the point, it’s irrelevant. Because Niall’s leaving the country and Harry’s not. Not to be dramatic, but they may never see each other again. Harry tears up at the thought, reaching again for the bottle of whiskey trying not to smile as Niall hiccups his way through one of their songs. Because that’s what they’ve been doing all night, reminiscing. Stumbling with drunken minds through all the music they’ve written over the last two years. Hundreds of songs, most absolute shit and unfinished but they exist.
“Promise to miss me?” Niall slurs, turning his head to look at Harry. His lips are wet and his cheeks are flushed and Harry can feel his chin tremble as he looks away. He’s such a fucking sap.
“Shut up, will you?” Harry’s not in the mood. Niall laughs, loud and messy as he maneuvers onto his knees at Harry’s side and shoves him.
“Say it. Say you’ll miss me.”
Harry rolls his eyes and falls onto his back, arms crossing under his head. “I’ll miss you. I can’t believe you’re leaving me and I’ll hate you forever… but I’ll miss you.”
“Atta boy!” Niall grins, pushing his face into Harry’s before pulling back and yawning, “got’a take a piss.”
Niall couldn’t make it into the house even if he tried so after walking in a circle he retreats to a dark corner closer to the guest house to piss behind a tree. Harry watches him go with a smile.
“You’re not Grim!”
Harry feels his heart stop as the bottle of whiskey slips from his stiff palm and lands with a dull thud on the ground. His eyes search the darkness and they land on a small figure illuminated by the light of the fire just near the Tomlinson’s gate.
“Lou- Louis?” Harry sounds like a blabbering fucking idiot. Is he that drunk?
“Noooo, no,” Louis’ eyes are low and he’s swaying a bit like he’s going to fall over but he’s smiling so big and so bright Harry can feel it reflecting on his own face. “You’re Harry. Harry Styyyyles. Hazzzzzza!”
Harry watches with wide eyes as Louis drops to his knees slow as molasses and starts to crawl towards Harry. He looks like a jungle cat on the prowl, hips rocking as slinks over. His fingers are ripping out the grass as he goes, grin slipping into a knowing smirk. The closer he gets the lower Harry’s jaw drops.
“Harry Styles,” Louis purrs, crawling right into Harry’s lap and stopping just before their noses touch. His eyes are blown and blazing in the light of the fire. His lips look bitten and red, his hair a mess and his cheeks flushed. He smells like weed and cheap beer and he’s paler than the last time Harry saw him months ago, a little older, cheekbones a little more cut. Louis pulls back, eyes roaming slowly over Harry’s face before he straddles him properly, plush bottom riding up Harry’s thighs when Louis plants his hands next to his face, caging him in. “What ‘er you doing here, Hair Style?”
Louis giggles at his own joke, his head falling on Harry’s shoulder and he tenses when he feels Louis’ warm, wet mouth drag across his skin. Harry can’t breathe, doesn’t know what to do, his hands slide up Louis’ thighs to grip his hips, keeping him close. Harry takes a deep breath; he’s never been so close to Louis in his life.
“Mum says you’re going to Manchester, Hair Styles.” Louis pulls back unsteadily but doesn’t go far, small hands moving to grip into the skin of Harry’s chest, nails piercing through the fabric of his thin shirt. His breath is stale and ghosts against Harry’s lips. “Always bragging about ya. ‘Oh Anne said Harreh did this! Did ya know Harreh could sing, Lou?’ Always braggin’ about ya, did ya know? Always loved you, always talkin’ about you. ‘So smart, that Harreh. So cute, that Harreh. Why can’t you get a boy like that Lou?’ The Great Harry Styles!”
Harry feels his body shut down and try to restart again. His fingers grip Louis’ hips so hard, pulling him up his legs until Louis’ settled right where he wants him. Louis doesn’t say anything, just rolls his hips teasingly and runs his knuckle up Harry’s chest until he reaches the middle of his eyes. He’s so drunk Harry worries he’s going to pass out right there in his arms. “Good lad, nice little body…”
“Lou-”
Louis surges up and kisses him. A small moan slips from Louis’ tongue as he licks into Harry’s mouth, hands pulling Harry up to meet him half way. Harry’s wanted to kiss Louis Tomlinson since before he knew what kissing was. Since the moment he saw this pixie of a boy standing half naked in his yard with two small children hanging from his sides he'd know he wanted him. There was never a second guess, never a doubt in his mind what kissing him would be like. And yet, as he sits here with Louis literally in his lap, he can’t imagine what the fuck he was thinking.
Because it’s better than anything he could ever imagine. It’s messy and their lips are chapped and Louis’ half kissing his chin but its Louis. Louis is kissing him. Louis is kissing him. On the mouth.
Louis grunts this desperate sound that sends a spike up Harry’s spine and he reaches up to grip Louis’ neck, turn him the way he wants him and Louis falls open effortlessly. Louis’ legs are tight around Harry’s waist and he’s rolling his hips before Harry grips his bum with his other hand pulling him in as close as possible. At least he thinks he is, he’s a little numb; body trembling as the alcohol fucks with his mind and next thing he knows he has Louis flipped on his back and he’s settled on top of him, cradled between his thighs. It’s all so much.
“Holy shit!” Niall whispers from somewhere on the other side of the fire pit. Harry pulls away then and he sees how fucked out and hazy Louis’ eyes are. His stomach drops at the sight “You did it; fucking hell Harry you did it. Fucking finally!”
“Lou?” The words fall like pathetic drool from Harry’s lips as he watches Louis lazily yank grass out with his fingers, eyes roaming before he looks down at their bodies twisted together. He’s so drunk, eyes dark and tongue slow when he licks his lips with a stupid giggle. He gently pushes at Harry’s chest before Harry takes the hint and crawls off of him, sitting back on his heels like the lovesick puppy he is. “Louis?”
Louis huffs as he rolls over trying to sit up. He can’t keep his eyes open as he slumps over pathetically. “You’ve always looked at me funny, ‘arry. Is this what you’ve wanted? Me on my back for you? Since we were kids? Nick doesn’t kiss me like that. Not anymore, never really did… I think he forgot about me tonight. Why does he always do this to me? I love him.”
“What?” Harry’s voice is wet and so, so pathetic.
“Tha fuck?” Niall hiccups from his place and Harry wants to tell him to fuck off because he’s so mortified. He doesn’t want anyone to see him, see the rejection on his face as Louis sits there looking at him like he hasn’t just turned his world upside down in a matter of seconds. “Who- who is Nick?”
“My boyfriend? Oh God,” Louis tries to stand up but he’s so drunk he just falls back to his knees laughing. “This is such a mess! I’m such a mess, Harry Styles. Such a mess!”
“Fucking what?” Niall slurs, taking a step forward with his finger pointed towards Louis and that’s when Harry starts to drown. A man appears from around the gate, tall and quiffed and so much older than them all but he’s calling to Louis ‘I thought I told you to meet me out front, darling?’ and Louis is following ‘Got lost babe, I’m so fucked up’ and Harry throws up in the bushes before Niall can even get to him.
Niall leaves in the morning. Louis officially moves to London with his DJ boyfriend Nick two weeks later. Harry goes to Manchester and starts over.
--
"Drink, baby."
The second time Harry wakes up he swears he’s breathing underwater. He feels weightless and heavy at the same time; his limbs feel like they’re floating with the sway of the ocean. There’s no tube down his throat. He celebrates by taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly as he tries to open his eyes. It’s as if he’s been asleep for a thousand years, his eyelids stuck together and his eyes unable to handle the dim light beyond them. He struggles to maneuver his hands to his face but they seem to settle somewhere along his chest. He feels drugged and completely out of it.
“Harry?”
He turns his head towards the voice, sounding far off yet so comforting, but still unable to open his eyes. He tries to reaches out but doesn’t know if he quite makes it before something or someone is holding his hand.
“He’s doing good. Welcome back Mr. Styles.” He feels someone else at his other side but they don’t touch him and seconds later the presence is gone again.
“Hear that, Haz? You’re doing so good, my love.”
The voice is a gentle wave in his ocean. Harry reaches out again even though the person is still holding his hand, testing his abilities. Is he in his bed? He feels something on his face, a hand, it’s small and cradling his cheek and the warmth is so good he hears himself moan at the contact. He’s still floating. He feels so good.
“Can you sit up for me, darling? Drink something?”
Harry nods but doesn’t move. His head is so heavy he can’t control where it lands and he feels his arm start to float towards the ceiling before it’s pulled back down again. He tries to speak, smacks his lips together once or twice. This is the worst cotton mouth he’s ever had. What the fuck did he do last night? He tries again to speak and this gravely grunt comes out. He starts to laugh but when he lifts his head a sharp pain throbs at his temple and he falls back against the pillow.
It takes him a moment or two but he finally opens his eyes just enough to take in his surroundings. He’s definitely not in his bed, but maybe a hospital. He thinks he should be freaking out but he’s not, he doesn’t feel much of anything right now besides the gently rocking of his floating body.
The room is dark, it must still be night, and it’s mainly empty except for a man sitting at his side and the dozens upon dozens of flowers filling the small room. He scans the flowers, big colorful bouquets on every available surface and he can’t tell if he can smell the flowers or not. The man to his side is smaller and wearing a large jumper but Harry can’t make out his face that’s half hidden in the shadows.
“Hi, sunshine.” The man whispers, emotion flooding his voice and Harry’s confused, wonders what he looks like, if his face is destroyed? He’s so drowsy, his body threatening to drop right back to sleep as he reaches up to touch his face. It still feels smooth, two eyes, one mouth, one giant nose. It all seems there and Harry smiles gratefully.
“Hi.”
The man sits up a little straighter and Harry can see his eyes then, bright blue and shiny with unshed tears. He looks so happy and Harry guesses he’s the most beautiful man he’s ever seen. Harry blinks, watching the laugh dance from the man’s mouth, thin lips pink as a cherry blossom.
“Are you okay? Why are you crying?” Harry’s voice sounds horrible, raw like rolling rocks but he’s not in the proper mindset to care why. “I’m sorry but, you are... beautiful. You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen.”
Harry thinks his heart monitor skips a beat when the man grins, wiping the moisture from his eyes. His smile is like the most familiar punch to his gut. "Looking like this? Don't be silly, drink some water."
He holds a straw to Harry’s dry lips but he tries his best to turn his head away. "Who are you?"
"Your husband, Harry, geez."
"You're my husband? You’re joking?”
"Babe, drink something. C'mon."
"Wait, wait... are you- give me your hand." Harry tries to reach for the man’s hand but for some reason his limbs go the opposite way. He’s too tired to get frustrated. He tries again, reaching out as the man meets him halfway and his brain stutters when he sees their matching silver rings.
"Wow,” Harry breathes, head falling heavy and limp against his pillow. He feels like he’s doing less floating and more falling. He tries to reach for the man again, palm landing heavy on his soft cheek and they both laugh. “You’re so beautiful. Honestly… you look so- wait, are you joking? Don't be joking, we're together?”
The man once again pushes a straw to Harry’s mouth and this time he takes it, trying his best to drink the liquid but most of it dribbles right back out of his mouth. He could care less; this gorgeous man is looking at him like he’s a God, clearly amused with Harry’s ridiculous condition. "Yes, Sunshine, for a long time now."
"Wow,” Harry whispers like he’s found a hidden treasure. He’s so tired but this is the best dream he’s ever had. “This is the best dream I’ve ever had. Have we- have I kissed you? I feel like I know you…”
“Baby, you're on a lot of medication.”
Harry absolutely melts into the thin mattress, air rushing out of his lungs. It’s a mumble when the words finally make it out, “say it again. Call me- please, say it again.”
The man rolls his eyes with a grin, leaning forward and kissing up Harry’s cheek to whisper ‘baby’ it in his ear. Harry’s toes curl and he lets his eyes close shut. The man runs a finger along his jaw, touch warm and calming.
“How long have we been married?” Harry can hear himself slurring and tries to pull himself together. “You’re the most beautiful man I've ever seen, hand on heart. I don’t know what’s going on but… c’mere, let me- let me see you, please. Look at you- your smile. I- how? We're married? You married me? I gave you that ring? Do we have children? Do we have a family?”
The man laughs now, throwing his head back with muffled grin as his small hand comes to cover his face. Harry wants to crawl over and kiss him silly. He hopes he never wakes up.
“’m working on it, love…” The man grins, standing up to reveal the rather large bump of his belly and Harry can’t breathe. He just blinks, mind completely short circuiting as he looks at this man standing before him. He’s suddenly so overwhelmed and he can hear his heart rate going up on the machine as the man leans over him to touch his face.
“Harry?” He feels himself falling back to sleep, can’t stop his eyes from drooping as he tries to focus on the man now holding his face and trying to get his attention back, trying to keep him above water. He looks worried and Harry wants to smooth the lines of his face with his thumb.
He just... he just looks so familiar even if this is a dream. Harry feels like he’s seen this man in all of his dreams, feels like he knows him and just before he closes his eyes again he locks in on those wide, frightened blue eyes and Harry can’t help but smile.
Louis.
--
Niall’s there when Harry finally wakes up for good.
He’s still drowsy and extremely disoriented but the pain is a bit stronger this time so he knows it’s not a dream. Niall’s sitting on the edge of his hospital bed tapping away at his phone and Harry has to blink into the brightness of the room for a few moments before Niall notices he’s awake. The second he does he jumps up from the bed, dragging his fingers through his hair.
“Fuck…” Niall starts, clearly trying to get his emotions under control. He’s biting at his clenched fist, fingers white from the pressure. “Haz, fucking hell you scared the shit out of us, oh my God.”
Harry’s weak body is no match for Niall who yanks Harry into a tight embrace. It hurts, his head pounding and his limbs too weak to really grab on but it feels amazing anyway. He hasn’t seen Niall in months but it feels like years. He can’t even remember the last time they had a skype session. He’s a horrible best mate.
“Niall, mate, so good to see you. Shit, man, I don’t even know what happened? Did you fly back to see me? I’m sorry...”
Niall hesitates for a moment before pulling away from Harry and looking into his eyes. Niall looks… older? Harry doesn’t remember Niall ever being so tan, his shoulders so wide. But his eyes, those are the same eyes.
“The fuck are you talking about?” Niall frowns before cocking his head. He reaches over and presses the button for the nurses before looking back at Harry. “You hit your head pretty fucking hard, huh? Idiot.”
Harry tries to laugh at Niall’s version of concern but he doesn’t think he pulls it off. He can barely feel his face. “Yeah I guess I did?”
A nurse comes in then and inspects him. Pokes him and flashes a light in his face and asks him questions to gauge his pain. Harry can’t believe the amount of flowers in his room. He’s not sure he even knows that many people...
Just as the nurse steps back to give him his space someone new steps into the room; he’s gorgeous, like disgustingly so even though he looks like he hasn’t slept in days and his hair is a messy mop atop his head and his brown eyes are bloodshot. But he’s still ridiculously good looking and Harry curls in on himself as the man steps further into the room before noticing him and visibly freezing.
“Fuck- Lou!”
And he’s gone again, running out of the room. But he comes right back and to Harry’s horror the man from his dream is standing there, eyes red and swollen. But this time they’re not alone and this time Harry’s sure he’s not dreaming and- he’s still pregnant. Harry starts to panic. Wait- is he still dreaming?
Harry looks back to Niall, head swimming, but Niall is frowning down at him looking just as confused.
“Can you- Niall, can you see him?” Harry whispers, dread filling his lungs. Niall blinks down at him before looking up and glancing around the room, even turning to look behind him.
“What are you talking about?”
Harry closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Okay. It’s okay, he can do this. He glances back at the man again, at Louis, before he turns back to Niall. “You don’t see him?”
“There’s no one else here, Harry. It’s just us.”
Harry nods, head heavy and he frowns as he hears Louis gasp softly. It’s all in his head. He’s losing his mind. “I don’t know what’s going on, Niall. Am I dreaming still? I- I see Louis. Do you remember Louis? The guy I- he’s… I see him near the door? I think I’ve lost my mind, am I in an institution? Tell me the truth.”
There’s a shift in the universe, then. It feels like everything explodes around them like confetti or static or just Harry’s sense of up and down. There are people bustling in and out of the small room, nurses yelling for doctors and so many faces but even more voices and Harry reaches for Niall. He’s there, warm and solid and the only thing Harry can trust right now.
“Name?” A light flashes in Harry’s face. Even over the noise he can hear Louis crying, whimpers attacking him from all four walls. He fists his hands at his sides, willing it to go away. Please, make it go away. “Sir, can you tell me your name?”
Harry tries to focus, reaches again for Niall to make sure he’s still there. “Harry… Styles.”
“Very good. Do you know where you are, Harry?”
“Hospital?”
“Yes. You had an accident but you’re doing very well. Can you tell me anything else? What’s the last thing you remember? Can you think of anything?”
Louis’ still crying. Harry feels Niall squeeze his hand. He tries to focus and look up at the doctor now hovering over him.
“I, um.” Harry frowns- there’s nothing there. Small flashes of color slip through his conscious but nothing he can actually see. It’s not like he’s completely forgotten who he is, he just can’t remember anything important. He remembers the paper he just failed in class, remembers he hasn’t done his laundry in a week and a half, remembers falling off his bike and skinning his knee two days before-
Harry immediately starts to panic, tries to twist his legs and tenses when there’s no pain from his knee. Nothing at all… no bandage or ache or raw nerved skin rubbing against stiff hospital sheets. It ignites a burst of fear in him as he tries to look around the room, not recognizing anything anymore.
“Harry?” That’s Niall’s voice this time and Harry turns to him, eyes wide and alarmed. Niall looks so different, years older even. His nose is wider, cheeks more gaunt and skin a nice tan instead of the Irish pale Harry’s known him to wear proudly- and he’s dressed completely different. He’s taller, hair dyed an artful blonde and he’s wearing an expensive watch Harry’s never seen before. He flinches at the thought that he doesn’t know this person, that he doesn’t know Niall anymore. Niall takes Harry’s face in his hands, expression more serious than he’s ever known.
“Harry it’s me, yeah?” Harry nods. Niall exhales. “You have to help us out here, mate. We need to see if you’re really hurt. What’s the last thing you remember? Do you remember the last time you saw me? Anything?”
Harry looks down at his hands and it’s as if every bit of oxygen leaves his body when he see’s it, the ring. There’s a silver ring on his finger, the same exact one from last night, the same ring Louis’ still wearing and as he lifts his hands he see’s the tattoo’s littering his skin. He feels faint as he pushed up the sleeves of his hospital gown and see’s the black ink all over his skin. He feels Niall shake him by the shoulders and Harry looks up to see everyone watching him.
“‘s not a dream is it?”
“What do you remember, Harry?”
“When you- last time I saw you is when you went back to Ireland to live with your mum for uni… me and, uh.. me and your dad took you the airport?” Harry searches the room for Louis then, finds him turned away and wrapped in the arms of the attractive man on the other side of the room.
“Jesus Christ,” Niall groans under his breath, rubbing his face with his hands. “That was, I mean, that was fucking years ago? That was before… God, before everything.”
“Years?” It comes out much louder than Harry planned, more like a yelp than a simple question and he starts to cry. “Years? Niall- Niall, years? What happened to me?”
“This was something we discussed previously,” the doctor sighs, turning away from Harry and motioning the nurse to check his vitals. He steps towards Louis, words soft. “Short term memory loss.”
Harry can’t breath.
Louis’ still wrapped in the other man’s arms, face buried against his shoulder and he sounds strangled.“This is not what we discussed… He- he doesn’t remember-” Louis sounds so fragile and cracked Harry flinches at his voice, he’s crying so hard he can’t make out half his words. “He doesn’t remember me!”
“This can be temporary, Mr. Styles.” Harry feels like he’s going to be sick. Mr. Styles... “He could remember everything within the next few minutes.”
Louis pulls back quickly, small palms rubbing down his face. “Or he could never remember again, right? I’m fucking six months pregnant and my husband and the father of our child doesn’t know who we are, do you understand me? Do you get that? I don’t want to hear-”
“Calm down, Loueh...” The attractive man from before pulls Louis back into him, holding him close. Harry feels an overwhelming sense of dread he can only pinpoint as stupid, childish jealousy. “Calm down, he’s going to be fine. He’s here, he’s awake. That’s so much more than we had yesterday, right? You gotta to calm down, babe.”
Harry can feel his skin heating up as he watches the two and looks away. Niall runs his fingers through Harry’s hair making his eyes fall shut for a blissful second. He has the worst headache of his life and he’s so confused and he’s in so much pain he just can’t make sense of what’s really going on.
It’s quiet in the room before he finally speaks. “Louis?”
Louis looks up, eyes wide and face hopeful. It makes Harry’s heart sink instantly. Louis looks around to make sure Harry was talking to him before slowly making his way over to Harry’s bedside. Most of the nurses clear the room.
Harry takes a moment to take him in, the boy of his dreams. He’s taller, barely, and he’s obviously filled out a bit but Louis’ still just as beautiful, if not more, than Harry remembers. He walks cautiously towards Harry, eyes trained on his sneakers and palms pressed high on his belly like he’s not sure what to expect. His hair is pulled back under a beanie and his giant jumper is giving him sweater paws but his eyes are still the bluest he’s ever seen. Just the sight of him is making Harry a nervous wreck.
Niall pulls up a chair and Louis squeezes his shoulder in thanks before sitting down and turning back to Harry shyly. Everyone starts to clear the room at Niall’s request and Harry’s so nervous to be alone with Louis but he can’t find the words to beg Niall to stay. So he doesn’t and they’re alone and they don’t speak for awhile.
Louis looks at his hands in his lap as Harry looks at him, eyes tracing over his small ears and the slope of his nose to the faint stubble that dusts his chin. Louis’ older, Harry would guess maybe around 25 and there’s the smallest peek of a tattoo along his collarbones that’s sending a buzz through Harry’s skin. Harry watches him for the longest time, watches Louis’ chest rise and fall smoothly, watches the way his eyelashes flutter as he tries to hide his tears, watches his fingers twitch on his thighs as if he doesn’t know what to do with himself.
Harry reaches out to him cautiously, doesn’t know what kind of boundaries they should have, but the second Louis sees Harry reach out to him he grips Harry’s hand. Harry feels like he can breath again. They still don’t talk but Louis finally looks up at him, looks over his features to make sure he’s the same Harry. Louis just looks so relieved that Harry’s even alive, he brings Harry’s much larger palm to his lips and leaves a sweet kiss against the rough skin. It once again draws Harry’s attention to his tattoos and he frowns.
“I need you to- I’m so lost right now.” Harry touches his fingers to his head and feels how long his hair is. “I thought I was dreaming last night, I thought it was all in my head. I thought you were a dream, Lou.”
Louis smiles softly at the accidently nickname and Harry’s heart surges. Louis raises Harry’s hand back to his face but he doesn’t kiss it this time, just holds it against his cheek until Harry curls his fingertips under the beanie to bury into the soft hair curling over his ears. It’s so intimate Harry can feel his hands trembling. He’s never imagined such little things with Louis, never thought he would ever touch him again. God, he’s so messed up.
Louis opens and closes his mouth, speechless. Harry reaches forward and thumbs away his tears which only cause more too fall.
“I’ve missed you so much.”
Harry looks away, overwhelmed. He doesn’t know this Louis, doesn’t know who or what they are to each other. Doesn’t know what he has to miss.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t say that. I- I don’t know what to say. Or do. I’ve never- I never thought this could happen. I’m so sorry Harry, I don’t know how to make this better.” Louis sound absolutely broken and a sob is pulled from Harry’s chest. He turns back to Louis and all he can see is fragile, terrified eyes looking up at him.
“How? I don’t understand how this- how we?”
Louis laughs, it’s so sudden and unexpected Harry can’t help but smile. It sounds like bells. “That’s the longest story in the world, Sweetheart.”
Harry closes his eyes and melts further into the sheets. There’s a warmth that spreads through his tired bones that for a moment, just a moment, drowns out the pain in his head.
“Give me something, Louis. Please… I go to sleep one night-” Harry can’t finish, swallowing thickly, “...and when I wake up you’re here, with me.”
“Married, with a baby on the way. I know, it’s a lot…” Louis looks away almost ashamed. “You were at your tech rehearsal, too impatient for the crew to finish up and a light fixture fell on you. Knocked you out cold. I nearly had a heart attack when I heard. I don’t know what to say, Harry. You’re the love of my life. Have been for about five years now. You’re 24, we’re in London, you and Niall make music for a living. We’ve been married for almost two years, I’m six months pregnant. You were so happy when we found out, ran around the house naked on Facetime with Niall, it was amazing-”
Louis seems to choke on his words, tears spilling over as he let’s go of Harry’s hand and stands up to pace around the room. Harry lies still, Louis’ words washing over him like harsh waves. It’s a lot to take in.
“But does any of that matter?” Louis cries almost hysterically, pacing around the room carrying his belly. “What do memories mean when I’m the only one who remembers them? What if you never get those memories back? That’s all I have Harry, me and you. Those memories are all I have now.”
Harry wants to reach and and hold him, give him the comfort he’s so desperately craving but he can’t move. He can only watch Louis wear circles into the floor. He stops suddenly, the late morning sunlight framing his small shape with a gold lining.
“I can’t do this without you, Harry. I need you to come back to me. Please.”
Harry looks up at Louis, the sadness in his eyes, and he wants so badly to be what Louis needs. That’s all he’s ever wanted really, since the day he met Louis, but he just doesn’t know what that is right now. Harry raises his hand and motions for Louis to return to him and he does. Harry reaches for him when he’s near and brings Louis’ knuckles to his lips. He may not be what Louis wants right now but he would never want him to hurt.
“Louis, I don’t know who I’m supposed to be right now. I just… I don’t know how to fit into this life right now. I want so badly to remember these things and I hope I remember them soon but for now, I’m here. I’m still me and I’m right here and if you’re here and I’m here then we can do this together, okay? I trust you. I- I love you. I don’t know if this is the first time you’re hearing that or the millionth, but I love you. I always have, since the day I saw you.”
Louis curls his smaller fingers around Harry’s, locking their fingers together as he starts crying all over again. He’s so hesitant and Harry can’t imagine a world where they were comfortable with each other but he wants to, so badly. Louis looks determined as he lifts a knee to climb onto the bed watching Harry for any sign he doesn’t want this. He crawls up the tiny mattress making sure not to jostle any of Harry’s tubes before lifting Harry’s arm and fitting himself under it like they’ve done this every day of their lives. And maybe they have, this life they have together, because Louis fits against his side like he’s been there all along, their bodies melting into place.
“You used to say that all the time, since the day I saw you.” Louis whispers into the stillness of the room, heartbeat rewiring Harry’s entire body. “I love you too, Harry. I love you so much. We’ll be okay.”