Work Text:
Louis knew something was wrong before he even opened his eyes.
He'd experienced it other ways than by sight, of course. The way his body moved or a not quite right scent or silence when there should be laughter. All of these were warnings he needed to be on his guard.
He'd never considered that with his eyes closed, it would still be his sense of sight that gave the first alert.
After all, what you see when you close your eyes has always been there. As far as Louis knew, it didn't change. The vibrancy, colors, and speed with which waves of light pulsed varied, but it was always the same general pattern. Even when everything else in his life was wrong, he could still close his eyes and hide away in the darkness that felt was the only place that he knew would always be familiar.
But today it wasn't. Instead of the soft wavering light that often greeted him in gentle ebbs and flows until he fluttered his eyes open in the morning, he was seeing clean and precise line drawings of the scene he'd just been dreaming about. A picnic bench in a park, with a line of grown men sitting on the side facing him, a cooler placed to Louis' left. The background was a simple splash of color with the clean black lines detailing the rest, as if an artist had brought his dream to life.
His heart raced. He'd never seen anything even close to this distinct in his mind's eye before. He wasn't a visual person. He couldn't even vividly visualize his own face, just a vague concept at best, and yet this was perfectly clear.
How could this be possible? How, after almost thirty-four years of life, could he be seeing something new and different when he closed his eyes?
Panicking, he opened his eyes. Or, he tried to. They were resisting, like he'd been asleep for far longer than just the eight or ten hours he usually slept on a Friday night. Once they opened, his vision slowly moved around the room as the cold tendrils of fear firmly wound their way around his heart.
He didn't recognize where he was. The sounds and smells were all wrong. And worst of all, his body almost didn't want to obey him. It felt like every order and direction he gave was only done slow and half heartedly.
"What's…" The muscles of his mouth felt clunky, like they weren't used to being used.
His chest heaved as his mind raced. None of this made sense.
"Oh, Harry! Wonderful, you've woken up," a very familiar voice said.
It couldn't be, though. The voice was familiar because it was his own. Was someone playing a recording of some kind?
He had finally aimed his eyes towards the wrong bedroom door in the incorrect place to see… himself?
This doppelganger was smiling at him, walking over holding what looked to be a hand mirror at his side.
"Come, now," the doppelganger said as he held up the mirror in front of Louis. "Don't you want to see your new face?"
Louis tried to speak again, but only moaned.
The doppelganger laughed, and it sounded sharp and wrong. "I know you're confused, but I really do appreciate you offering up your body in this way. It helps so much when the volunteer is… willing."
Louis still didn't understand. If anything, he was more confused. What was he talking about?
"You need to get used to answering to Harry sooner rather than later, love. Though, with your age factored in, I suppose they won't be all that surprised your memory is finally leaving you."
The confusion had overshadowed everything for a moment, but now the terror of what the doppelganger was suggesting began to take hold.
"Now," the doppelganger said before shoving the mirror in his face. "Smile!"
Eyes widening, Louis realized the face in the mirror was of his elderly neighbor, Harry.