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When Harry was growing up, thunderstorms were rare. The first time he encountered one, he was eight. His family had gone out and left him with a snack and some toys and videos. It was all fine until the grumble of thunder startled him.
Eyes wide, he started to get up off the couch. A crack sped him up, and he rushed up the stairs to his room, peering out the window from his safe, warm bed.
Another, almost deafening rumble made him nearly fall off the bed, so he clutched the blankets desperately. The outside was dark, barely visible through torrential rain. A sudden crack accompanied by a flash of light split through the darkness, momentarily lightening the trees outside. Harry jumped away from the window, crouched at the edge of his bed. The next boom came even sooner, and a crack that almost overlapped the noise came with another flash.
A different, deeper crack went on longer than the other noises. Harry couldn’t tell what the source of that noise was, as there had only been a tiny moment of pure white light before everything went dark again. A bizarre groan added to his confusion until he was able to make out a light glow outside his window. As the glow came closer with a loud groan, Harry realized that it was a tree- a tree was on fire and coming closer, falling towards him.
He didn’t think to move until the tree crashed into the roof right above him, shaking the floor. Harry cried out and slipped onto the floor, crouching. Bits of plaster rained down, and he rolled under the bed, crying hysterically.
His parents got home minutes later, finding a fallen tree that had destroyed their roof. Harry was still under the bed, sobbing. They hadn’t been able to calm him down- he finally cried himself to sleep, curled up on the couch.
There were no more thunderstorms for years. And then, halfway through their first American tour as One Direction, they were staying in ‘fancy’ cottages on the east coast. The cottages were part of an expensive Massachusetts shore-line hotel, and Harry’s room was attached to Louis’, making one cottage.
Their second day staying there, the day they had off, started out great- there was a rain forecast, but they were planning to go to the nearby beach anyway. It was around five in the afternoon when they were finally all ready to leave for the beach. Harry was just leaving the cottage, a bag in hand, when a light grumble made him freeze in his tracks.
Louis was busy talking, a few steps ahead of him, and didn’t notice when Harry stopped walking. Finally, when Harry didn’t respond to some question, Louis turned around, raising his eyebrows.
“What is it?” he asked. “Why’d you stop?”
It only took him a moment to take in Harry’s wide, frightened eyes and stiff posture.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, walking back towards Harry. “What happened?”
Harry shook his head slightly, eyes still wide, pupils dilated. He backed into the cottage, dropping his bag at the door.
“I’m not going!” he called through the door, starting to pace in the main room of the cottage.
“Yes, you are,” Louis said, following him inside. “Why aren’t you?”
Harry shook his head at Louis. “I can’t,” he said, sitting down on the couch, staring down at his hands.
Louis dropped his own bag and sat down beside him, not saying anything for a moment.
“Go on,” Harry said. “They’ll be waiting for you. Just tell them I’m sick.”
Louis frowned, turning to look at Harry. “What happened between when we left and when you started freaking out?”
Harry pursed his lips. “Nothing, I just don’t want to go.”
Louis stared at Harry for a while, trying to figure something out. When Harry flinched, nearly jumping off the couch at the sound of a thunder boom, Louis frowned.
“Is it the thunder?”
Harry stood up, striding over the window, yanking down the blind. “It’s fine, I’m just not going.”
Louis quickly texted the boys, informing them that they weren’t going to the beach.
“Harry, sit down,” Louis said, tucking his feet underneath him. “It’s no use pacing around.”
He sat down obediently, leaning his head on the back of the couch.
“Why are you scared of thunder?” Louis asked.
“I’m not,” Harry protested. A boom from overhead contradicted him, as it made him flinch. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “I was eight, and home alone, and a tree fell on the house during a thunderstorm. Basically.”
Louis nodded. “Fair enough.”
Harry sighed. “I didn’t even know they bugged me until now, I haven’t been in one since then.”
“It makes sense that you would be, though,” Louis said. “I’m afraid of bees because I accidentally kicked a wasp nest when I was ten.”
It suddenly started pouring, making the room much louder. Louis shifted closer to Harry, putting his arm around Harry’s shoulders, noticing that he started to shake after the next grumble of thunder.
“It’s okay,” Louis said quietly, trying to still Harry’s shaking. “It’s okay.”
Harry took a shuddering breath, leaning into Louis. “I just want it to end.”
“It will,” Louis murmured, his face pressed into the top of Harry’s head. “It’s going to end, and you’ll be fine.”
As the storm got closer, the booms got louder and eventually the sky grew darker, flashing with lightening at each of the crashes of thunder. Harry degraded into a quivering, crying mess, and Louis was doing his best to hold him together, trying to talk over the noise of the storm and reassure Harry of their safety.
“What about the others?” Harry asked, his words distorted by his crying. “They’re at a beach!”
“No, remember, they texted a few minutes ago, Harry, they’re back, they’re fine!” Louis said, petting Harry’s curls and trying to wipe off some of his tears.
Harry nodded into Louis’ chest, remembering. The next deafening thunderclap made Harry cry out and clutch Louis’ shirt, pressing his face into Louis’ abdomen.
“Make it stop!” he cried, his voice breaking.
“Oh, Harry,” Louis said, holding the younger boy’s shoulders. “I can’t, I’m so sorry, Harry.”
Harry was still shaking and crying, and he curled across Louis’ lap, his head turned slightly in towards Louis’ stomach.
“I want to go home,” he said, another sob bursting out.
The storm finally moved on after another half hour of screaming and crying, and Harry fell asleep, still gripping Louis tightly. Louis fell asleep too; not waking up until the next morning came, bright and clear-skied.