Chapter Text
IT IS THE SATISFACTION OF SECURITY. It is the warm, happy, comforting sensation that settles over you when you realize you are completely safe from harm, like not even a tornado of torment or hurricane of horrors can breach your safety bubble. His heart rate gradually slowed and his eyes began to droop with them as if tiny weights were pulling on his eyelashes. Harry was falling asleep.
He lives in a forest, away from the people. Most of the people these days are bad. You see, Harry is a very timid person. He's shy and... and, well, he's a bit... precautious, about a few things. All right. A lot of things. Harry is afraid of most everything, but there is nothing wrong there, nothing at all.
The sun slowly rises and warm sunshine pours over his already closed eyelids. Daytime, I'll have you know, is a rather very good time to sleep. Slowly, gently, quietly, the sweet singing of the birds outside lulled Harry to sleep. The scent of honeysuckle and pine trees fill his long nose. Relieved that he made it through the darkness and danger of the night, he allowed himself to relax and sink further and further into unconsciousness. Harry's long, curly-ish hair covers his forehead and stirs ever so gently with his exhales, just like grass in a gentle summer breeze. Peace, at once, settles over the little wooden cottage in the forest.
Harry has nightmares, quite often. This morning, though, his dreams seem fine. Warm, yellow drops of sunshine cover his face. Bright, pure white clouds drift by him, fluffy and carefree, meandering aimlessly. The air smells of vanilla. Blue and purple grass grows in the field and sways in the breeze coming from the pink ocean behind him, and he is alone in this beautiful dream world.
Harry's big, green eyes scan the horizon, searching the vibrant purple skyline for anybody else. He is always worried, even in his subconscious. While he is looking around, one particularly large gust of wind sweeps over the blue and purple field, diminishing a few of the fluffy white clouds. They reminded him greatly of good dreams.
There are hundreds of multicolored flowers dotting this field, many of them too big to be earthly. They are beautiful. Harry, being the adorable little soul he is, picked several of them and plopped them on top of his head, grinning as they fell down around him. Several of them did stay, though, and he felt beautiful with his floral corona. Harry deserves to feel beautiful. Everybody deserves to feel beautiful.
This wind, though, rustles his hair and sends the beautiful flowers astray. Harry was particularly fond of one huge, purple sunflower (yes, it was a sunflower, and it was purple. You'll find many more instances where Harry's logic is a bit... nonexistent. But the boy likes colors and he likes flowers, leave him alone) that he found, and he had only seen one of.
Before he could turn around and try to chase the purple flower, a small, thin hand closed around his wrist.
"Hiya," an energetic voice says. Why didn't Harry jump when this boy touched him? Why is he not freaking out at the sound of his voice? Usually, that would be the case. But Harry trusts this person already, for some reason. Most likely, because it was a dream. But, still.
Harry turns around. "Hello," he says.
Wow, is the only thing Harry can think. When he put those flowers in his hair, earlier, Harry felt beautiful. This boy definitely does not need flowers in his hair to be beautiful. This boy is art.
His blue eyes settled on Harry's green. A blush rose in Harry's cheeks from simply holding eye contact with the boy; Harry didn't know people came this pretty. And small. Harry has to look down at the boy to meet his eyes. It's very endearing to our sweet Harry; but Harry's a bit of a giant.
He had small feet, too, small ears, small hands. And in one of those small hands, was Harry's purple sunflower. He had forgotten all about his treasure! To be honest, he'd forgotten all about everything. This boy was really, very beautiful, and Harry liked him. Not just because he was beautiful. He was charming.
"So you're just going to stare at me, hmm?" the boy said. "Never been too good at first impressions, have we, Harry?" Harry was shocked, embarrassed, happy. Because 1.) how did the boy know his name, 2.) it's true, he's bad with people, and 3.) the boy's voice was wonderful, a bit squeaky and high-pitched but still just a teensy bit raspy, it was wonderful. He smiled as he spoke and it made Harry's heart jump rope with his lungs.
"I'm sorry," Harry mumbles, "did you say something before that?"
"I did," the boy grins, "you were too busy checking me out to hear me."
Harry's face heats up. "No, no no no no no, I just- I think- you're... what did you say?" he stammers, looking away.
The beautiful boy just laughs. "Boy, Harry, you sure are cute, kid. Here," he extends his hand, showing Harry the flower, "I think this is yours, yes?"
"Yes," Harry replies, but he doesn't move to take it. He's too shocked, embarrassed, and happy. So the boy grins again, and Harry loves the way his eyes crinkle, and he stands on his toes to put the flower back in Harry's hair.
"There you go," he smiles, stepping back to take in Harry's profile. Did I mention that Harry is beautiful, too? He is, he really is. He's not necessarily insecure, just humble. If Harry was in charge of my narrating, you wouldn't hear a lick about his appearance, because it's really not all that important, but I'm in charge of my narrating because I can do what I want.
This boy found Harry incredibly attractive. Because he is. Even though his prominent dimples were kind of annoying, since they make him look so cute and innocent, along with the flowers in his hair and the curiosity in his eyes, but Harry's a grown man. He's not childish, he's child-like, but mature, wise. Understand? No? Bear with me. I'm a narrator, not a writer. Blame the writer for their lack of skill with words; and it goes downhill from here.
This boy looked at the world a very different way than Harry does. See, Harry was afraid of a lot of things, a lot of people. A lot of people were afraid of this boy. He's tough, mean, cool; but he's not a bad guy, not at all. He's just got a very strong personality. And rather strong opinions, and rather strong... punches.
"What's your name?" Harry asked the boy. His eyes widened when he saw the offense in the smaller boy's face, and his heart nearly stopped. Harry truly didn't mean to offend him, you see.
"You don't remember me? Well!" the boy scoffs. "I remember you, you see, you're Harry, and you're twenty-one and you live alone way far away from most people and you like flowers and music and and art and warm tea," he says.
Harry blinks. "You're right."
"Of course I am, you little shit, I know you," the boy smirks.
Harry blinks again. "Who are you?"
"That could have been said in a much less bitchy way," he says, looking Harry up and down. "I'm... your... I'm your subconscious," he tells him, but it almost sounded like he only just decided that.
"My subconscious," Harry repeats, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes, Harold, that's what I just said," he scowls. "And we need to move. You need to wake up, you're probably in danger, back in Reality. So we have to get you back to Reality, so you can wake up and get safe."
"What? No, I like this dream," Harry frowns.
"You're going to like staying alive a whole lot better, Curly," he smirks. "You'll have other good dreams, Harry."
This is the part of the story where Harry nearly has a panic attack, he's completely overwhelmed, having a sensory overload. This is far too much for our simple Harry to handle.
He tries to process some things."So you are... my..."
"Worst nightmare," the boy chuckles darkly. "Nah, your worst nightmare was that one where you showed up to school in your underwear, and then monsters showed up, and then you drowned. I know because I was there. That was hilarious."
"I..." he says.
"I know," the boy replies, winking at him. "C'mon."
Harry swears under his breath. This boy is not as charming as he thought he was. "Do you at least have a name?"
The boy frowns. "You honestly have no clue who I am?" Harry shakes his head. "Well, I suggest you start keeping a dream journal," he snapped. "I'm Louis. I've been in like, eighty percent of your dreams for the past couple of months. Now," Louis glanced behind him, "we need to go!"
Before Harry could question, protest, add an observation, Louis grabbed him by the wrist and began sprinting towards the long, glittering blue path which laid ahead.
// // //
"SO WHERE ARE WE GOING, ANYWAYS?"
Harry's question echoes off the cliffs and caves and chasms around them, each landform a brighter color than the last. They've been walking for nearly thirty minutes, Harry's time, but not nearly what could be compared to one minute in our world. (Time is a very different thing, here, you see.) At this point, they have reached the Cliffs. Louis described it as, "The place where Lady Gaga's rejected color pallets go to die."
"I've told you," Louis curses, effortlessly pulling himself up the steep landscape. "Reality."
"Is this a physical... place?" Harry asks, pausing to gulp down some more air. Louis had rather strong thighs. (Harry wants me to mention that they were thick and adorable. I do not know why that is important.) Nonetheless, Louis was much more athletic, much more prepared to climb these slopes, and he still looked amazing doing it.
"Yeah," Louis says, "a door. The end of that blue path. Come on, Harold," he frowns.
Harry, on the other hand, was not prepared for this. His muscles screamed with every move he made, his clothes (very fashionable, I might add, and rather tight pants...) were drenched in sweat. Brown hair was plastered to his face by the time they reached the top of the steep cliffs.
"Made... it..." Harry mumbles, hunched over and breathing hard.
"At least you got a great view on the way up," Louis smirks. Harry tries to straighten up and scan the horizon, but he's very, very winded.
"Yeah," Harry mumbles, "I do like colors."
Louis grins. "I was talking about my ass, but eh, the rocks are nice too." Cocky little thing, isn't he? Harry would have blushed, if his face wasn't so red already. Louis is very impatient, he keeps looking at Harry, then looking behind Harry, then looking nervously around. He's on a time schedule.
Harry promises himself that he'll work out a lot more. Either that, or never again.
"Let's go, kid, you gonna be okay?" Louis eventually says. Harry swallows and nods, and they continue along the top of the tall, technicolor terrain. Louis gives him an encouraging smile that makes Harry's knees feel funny, and it was definitely not from the climbing. Louis is very pretty.
They walked together in silence. Louis was quite lovely, Harry decided, quite lovely indeed. But they were very different. Louis seemed tougher. Meaner. Cooler. Harry still liked him though. Even if he was kind of annoying. Louis liked Harry, too. He hated him more than he liked him, but he's nice company. He's just... Louis doesn't get along with many people, unless they have nearly the same personality as he does. Harry's personality is the exact opposite of Louis'. But he's cute. Louis likes cute people. Until they get annoying, but they're still fun to tease and to look at. Harry is very fun to look at.
He almost lost his purple sunflower a few times. Louis scowled at him and told him that he was wasting time with it, and informed him that if he put it in his pocket, it wouldn't be harmed. So Harry put it in his pocket. He didn't want to upset anybody. Especially not pretty boys who are impatient.
"Even if I did plummet to my death from up here," Harry begins a bit later, "I wouldn't really be plummeting to my death, right? Because it's a dream? I would wake up before I hit the ground, right?"
"What?" Louis frowns, glancing over his shoulder at Harry. "No, you'd die, here and in Reality," he says casually.
Harry freezes in his tracks. "What," he breathes. He could die up here? He could have died on the climb up? This is all very stressful for Harry. He's not quite sure how to handle it, so he just kinda slowly leans over until he falls on the ground, then he curls up into the fetal position and tries to catch his breath.
Louis does not really know how to handle this. He's not really one for emotions, or other things normal humans have to deal with. It took him a while to realize what this was. A panic attack, obviously, if you know what you're looking for. Louis had no idea.
So, he simply decided to wait it out. Hey, I told you he was hot, not smart. Or nice. But eventually, Harry pulls himself together, and sits up with his knees pulled against his chest. He runs his hands through his curly hair a few times, because this usually calms him down. He definitely did not like the thought that he could die in here. Louis did not understand this.
"Holy shit," Louis mumbles, "Are you okay?" Harry doesn't look up, his heart still hammering. He simply shakes his head no. Louis waits a little while longer, then looks behind him.
"Okay, Harold, love, we've gotta go," he says as gently as he could possibly manage. It still came out sounding rather sarcastic, but so does about half of the things Louis says. Harry smiles softly anyways, or at least he does on the inside because lovelovelovelovlove. Louis called him love.
"Okay," Harry says quietly. But he doesn't try to move. Louis groans, but being the sweet lad he is, offers Harry a hand. Harry tried not to smile when his large hand engulfed Louis', which was much smaller.
"You'll be okay," Louis says, not yet letting go of Harry's hand. Something about the way that he said it made Harry believe him. Harry nods, Louis grins, Harry smiles. And onward they went.
It took Louis about five whole minutes to realize that he hadn't let go of Harry's hand yet. That's not very tough. Yet for some reason, he still didn't want to let go. He thought for a while. Harry was still pretty shaken up because of what happened earlier, his panic attack. If Louis stopped holding his hand, and Harry got sad or upset or something, he might have another. And Louis didn't want that, because then... then they would fall behind schedule. And Louis is on a very tight schedule, that they are just barely ahead of.
If you ask me, Louis simply really liked holding hands with Harry. Because he was cute. Louis loves cute things.
But I'm just the narrator. What do I know?
///
"WELL, NOW HOW ARE WE GOING TO GET DOWN?" As soon as the question left Harry's mouth, his heart rate increased, simply from thinking about having to hike down the rocky terrain. He had let go of Louis' hand earlier, as their path had gotten much more narrow and it became hard to walk side-by-side.
Louis sighs. "I'll go first, okay? That way I'll be able to catch you if you fall," he winks, causing Harry to blush and nod. So down Louis goes, expertly trekking down the side of the giant purple cliff. Harry watches him from the edge, his palms sweaty and his stomach flipping. This is not necessarily Harry's ideal adventure. But honestly, Harry would go anywhere if Louis were taking him, because Louis is beautiful and charming and endearing.
"Your turn, H," Louis calls, now at the bottom of the rocks. He stands on a shimmering blue path, grinning up at Harry in a way that makes the lanky boy feel very special. Rightfully so, I might add; not many people get a smile like that out of Louis.
"Mmkay," Harry mumbles, edging closer to the dropoff. "S'really steep, Lou, what do I do?"
"Well, your choice in wardrobe isn't helping, even though those jeans make you look absolutely sinful," Louis smirks. "Lean back, Harry. It'll be okay, I'm here." And Harry grins like a madman because I'mhereI'mhereI'mhereI'mhere, but he nods and leans back and slowly begins shuffling down the side of the mountain, trying to mimic Louis' technique as much as possible. It takes him a little longer than it did Louis, but eventually, Harry reaches the bottom, and gives Louis a proud grin.
Louis replies with a smirk, "Way to go, Curly," and Harry just keeps smiling because Louis is just so fucking pretty.
"Proud of me?" Harry asks, now more confident in himself, because he's been giving lots of big smiles and receiving almost as many. Harry and Louis both have great smiles.
Louis rolls his eyes and laughs playfully at Harry. "Yeah, real proud of you, and those endless fuckin' legs," he says, eyeing Harry up and down. Jesus, have his legs always been this long? And attractive?
Harry notices Louis looking at him. He's not sure how to react, not really, but he likes it. So he smirks at Louis and wriggles his eyebrows and suddenly Louis is somebody else. Somebody much less cocky and smirk-y and... Louis. He definitely wasn't expecting that amount of confidence out of Harry, I mean, the boy is practically the love child of a giraffe and a sunflower, and it caught him off guard.
Harry is absolutely loving it, though, and he makes a mental note that Louis looks a bit like a kitten when that smirk isn't permanently etched into his face. "C'mon, Lou-Lou," Harry sings, "we're on a time schedule, mm?" He tosses his long, long hair over his shoulder and starts sauntering down the glittering blue path, leaving a still-shocked Louis behind him.
"Yeah," Louis mumbles, eyes fixed on the backs of Harry's long, long legs (seriously, has he always looked this good?) as he pulls himself together and follows Harry. "Yeah, time schedule. Except wait, wait up, Harry, Jesus Christ your legs are like stilts," he curses. Harry stops, smiling faintly as Louis catches up to him. "So, I'm gonna let you take it from here," Louis begins, and Harry's face falls. "Just for a little while! I'm not just gonna dump you out here and leave you to find your way back to Reality, don't worry. I just... don't necessarily like these parts of the realm, that's all," he finishes, looking down. "No big deal."
"No big deal?" Harry frowns. He's rather naive, my dear readers, innocent and afraid. "You're leaving me out here and I have no idea what's happening but it's no big deal?"
Louis actually felt a pang of guilt. "No, no it's not like that... just... the path is straight for a while, just follow it until I meet with you again okay? I'll be watching, and if for some reason anything happens -it won't, Harry, don't give me that look- I'll sweep in and save you, all right?"
Harry nods hesitantly, unnerved by the idea of Louis leaving him. "I suppose... just, keep going?"
"Yup," Louis says, and gives him a good smile. "Just follow the path, don't go off of it, okay?" Harry doesn't say anything. "Hey, it's just like it would be if I were leading you, except you don't get to stare at my ass," Louis winks, trying to lighten the mood.
Harry offers him a small smile and looks down. "I don't stare at your ass." Of course he does, though. I would know; I'm omniscient. And even though Louis isn't, he knows that of course Harry stares at his ass, he's got a great ass. But Louis doesn't argue. Instead he gives Harry a small, cheesy curtsy and holds out one of his hands. Harry is confused for a while until he offers Louis his own massive hand.
"Until we meet again, my Frog Prince," Louis teases, lifting his eyes but lowering his head to press his lips to Harry's hand. Then Louis grins, and Harry blinks, and the lanky Frog Prince is left on his own.
"Fantastic," Harry mumbles, and begins his walk of solitude. Fortunately, it's a rather quick walk, as his legs are absolutely endless. A cool breeze pushes Harry's hair off of his shoulders and chills the last few drops of sweat that remained on his skin from his earlier hike, sending a shudder down his spine. But his hand is warm from when Louis kissed it, even as goosebumps spread all up and down his arms, his hand remains buzzing with a delightful warmth. And even though part of Harry is telling him to stop being childish, Louis was only joking, part of him also gets really excited when he even thinks about Louis' lips against his skin.
Somewhere along the way, Harry stumbles upon a cloud. One of those big fluffy clouds that remind him of good dreams. Many of them float along the edges of the shimmery blue path, and even more drift among the rolling blue and purple hills, dotted with wildflowers of every color imaginable. It's lovely here.
This is the part of the story where Harry does something stupid. He grabs one of those large, fluffy clouds, and he holds onto it, though he knows nothing about it. Fortunately, nothing bad happens. In fact, the instant that the warm cloud touches his skin, Harry is reminded of a good dream he had once, of a beach with soft, foamy waves crashing against his legs. Harry swears he hears Louis' laughter somewhere in the distance at the memory of this dream, almost as if Louis was there.
As Harry walks, he grabs more clouds, and with each one he remembers another good dream he's had. Images of tall, tall trees and of watermelon and of sunshine flash through his mind, as well as bright blue eyes and a big, smug grin and mousy brown hair.
Suddenly, though, he sees a cloud that looks very different. It's much darker, it moves much slower and it's much more scary-looking. This dark cloud is situated a few feet away from the path, and it intrigues Harry. And Louis told Harry to stay on the path but I mean, come on, a few feet away isn't really leaving the path, now is it?
Harry decides to approach this strange, dark cloud, and as he nears it, loud claps of thunder become audible. Harry is suddenly very unsure about whether or not he should be anywhere near this cloud. It gives off a very unnerving mien, simply being around it is really very discouraging. After a while it got easier to go near the cloud, as if there was a magnet inside of it pulling him closer. Red flags went off in the back of his head, but they were so very distant. And he's about to turn around but Harry wants to be brave, so he slowly reaches out and-
Nothing. Absolute nothing. Not nothing as in, nothing happened, but nothing as in, Harry felt nothing. Suddenly his body was just filled with a numbness, an emptiness that took over every inch of him. Harry was just incredibly sad, and he wasn't sure why. So he frowns as this numbness spreads throughout his body, until suddenly he feels every emotion imagineable, all at once, and it was rather terrifying. Then back to nothing, then more sadness. It was confusing, it really was. Harry's lungs seemed to fill with cement as his bones all became like petrified wood, solidifying and turning to stone inside of him. His muscles ached from standing, as if remaining upright was the most strenuous activity he could possibly use his energy on.
That feeling of distance comes back to him now, returning after having amplified thousands of times. He feels alone and isolated and just so, so very sad. There's no other word to explain it. It is almost as if all of his energy simply seeped from his pores and into the air, leaving him with a heavy body and empty eyes. Harry regrets touching the cloud now, but he can't do anything about it. In fact, he can't do anything about anything. It's too hard. Everything is so very hard. The mere thought of going on was exhausting, it almost pained him, Harry just wanted to disappear.
Then, Louis was there. And Harry would have really appreciated Louis coming back for him, and coming to save him, but Harry couldn't feel a damn thing other than sadsadsadsadsad.
Louis seemed to be panicking, as he grabbed both of Harry's wrists and brought himself to the ground, Harry toppling down after him. It was bad, and it was scary, but Harry was just so very indifferent, he couldn't concentrate on the scary or the bad because he was just so incredibly sad. He couldn't even lift his eyes up to greet Louis' frantic blue ones.
After a while, Harry noticed that Louis was talking to him. Wait. Louis was yelling at him.
"... HARRY I SWEAR TO FUCK IF YOU DON'T RESPOND TO ME I'M GOING TO LOSE MY SHIT, HARRY SAY SOMETHING, HARRY," he was yelling.
"Yeah," is all Harry can say, and relief floods through Louis' face.
"Harry? Hey love, what is it? What's happening?" Louis asks him, holding his wrists gently.
"Sad," Harry says simply. This worries Louis. He immediately stands and leaves Harry there in the grass but he runs back in just a few seconds with one of those fluffy white clouds in his hand.
"Here, Harry, you gotta hold this one," Louis urges, shoving the cloud at Harry. Harry just looks up at Louis, and Louis receives the most heartbreaking look he's ever seen in his life. It is now that he notices that Louis has grabbed his face with two small hands and was forcing him to keep his head up. "Please, Harry, c'mon love, you've just gotta hold it, that's all," Louis pleads. And it takes a lot of energy, but Harry closes his fist around the fluffy white cloud, and instantly, shimmering silver fireworks light up his vision. He hears Louis saying his name in the back of his mind, although Louis didn't say anything just then. Then Louis reaches into Harry's pocket and he pulls out Harry's brilliant purple sunflower, and he places it behind Harry's ear and smoothes his hair around it.
Harry feels much better.
Weakened still, though, Harry doesn't really move. He just gives Louis a small, frail smile, calming Louis' nerves as he collapses on the grass next to the longer boy. "Scared me there, Haz," Louis mumbles. You see, Louis doesn't do emotions, as you might have already guessed. This was all weird for Louis, experiencing more than two emotions in one day.
"Why?" Harry asks. "Why did that even happen? I didn't like that at all," he frowns, fiddling with Louis' fingers.
"It was a nightmare cloud, Harry, they're not good for dreamers. Especially not happy sunflower dreamers like you," Louis smiles, looking into Harry's deep green eyes. Oh man, Harry's got beautiful eyes. Louis could drown in Harry's eyes and be perfectly happy.
"Why was I so sad? I don't remember ever having that dream," Harry frowns. "Usually I don't mind being a little sad."
"Oh," Louis tenses, looking away now. "That's... that's no big deal, Harry, sometimes... y'know, other people's dreams can get in here with yours, people you've creatd in your dreams, people you've met in your dreams... people who happen to be in the same realm as you," Louis mumbles, sitting up.
Harry is quiet for a moment. As your narrator, I'm entitled to tell you that Harry is a very smart boy. "Like you," he eventually says, not looking at Louis.
"What was that?" Louis freezes. He could've sworn that Harry just said...
"Like you, Louis. Like your dreams," Harry says slowly, now very sad. This was Louis' nightmare; Louis was terrified of being sad. Terrified of his emotions, in general. Terrified of himself.
And though this realization simply broke poor Harry's tender heart, he was angry. "This was your dream, and you didn't come with me because you were so afraid of having to deal with yourself that you left me. I have no idea what's going on around here, I don't know why we're in such a hurry but I just went with it because I could tell that you really, really didn't want to go. And then something bad happened, and then you showed up and yelled at me? Louis, that's not going to help anything! When somebody is sad you don't yell at them to get better, are you serious? Jesus Christ, do something!"
Louis, for once, is silent.
"You can't always be so damn afraid of yourself, Lou, it's unhealthy, and you don't have to deal with other people but holy hell, deal with yourself," Harry finishes, giving Louis a long, solid look. And he was very full of adrenaline while he was delivering this speech, because he never speaks to anybody in this way, he's very shy, but as Harry settles down, he notices how deeply saddened Louis appears.
Harry begins to apologize, now, not wanting Louis to be sad. "I'm-"
"Don't," Louis cuts him off. "Don't apologize. I'm sorry you had to feel that, Harry, I really am because I know how shitty it is. But it's a lot more than that. It's a lot more than you think."
"What do you mean, Lou?" Harry says, and Louis notices the velvety softness of his voice and wishes he could just wrap himself in the smoothness of Harry's words and never come out.
"Nothing, nothing Harry, it's fine," Louis mumbles.
Harry is quiet again, thinking of a way to shift the direction of the conversation. "Did I put us behind schedule?" Harry asks.
Louis thinks for a moment, then glances behind them. "No. No, actually, I think we're ahead of it, you were practically running," Louis smiles, and his eyes wander down Harry's long, long legs, stretched out in the blue grass. Good Lord, how can Harry's legs be so attractive to him? They're legs.
The taller boy smiles sheepishly. "Then let's take a break, let's just hang out here and rest for a while. C'mon, Lou," Harry murmurs, his voice taking on that velvet quality.
And Louis is about to tell him that they probably should keep going, but how can anybody ever deny Harry Styles of anything, because holyshitheissopretty. "Yeah, okay," Louis mutters, then lunges forward and tackles Harry. Harry grins, letting out a loud laugh that sounds like summertime as he feels Louis' smaller hands on his chest. Harry grabs Louis' wrists and flips them over, trying to trap Louis' hips between his knees, but he ends up pinning him to the grass and straddling his hips, which is something that Louis doesn't mind at all. In fact, he quite likes it.
"Shut up," Harry laughs, having seen Louis' cocky smirk and raised eyebrow. Then he grabs both of Louis' wrists in one hand, so that he can tickle the smaller boy's sides, ignoring his cries for help and pleads to stop, because Louis' laugh is the most beautiful sound Harry has ever heard in his entire life. Then Louis kicks his leg up and knees Harry in the ass, and Harry collapses on top of Louis. They continue to wrestle until Louis has finally pinned Harry to the ground, and the sight of Harry's wrists trapped beneath Louis' fists is something Louis can get used to.
"You're a bloody giant," Louis mutters as they both work on slowing their breathing. Harry just smiles up at Louis.
"You're a fairy, you're just a tiny little pretty fairy boy," he replies after a few seconds of thought.
"You think I'm pretty?" Louis laughs, furiously trying to hide the blush in his cheeks. Harry nods once, blushing himself.
"Sure are, Lou," Harry smiles. "Pretty pretty fairy boy."
Louis blushes furiously and scowls at Harry. "Shut up, you big dumb beanpole," he mumbles, then leans down to wrestle Harry some more. Harry just laughs into Louis' ear as Louis tries to... well, honestly I'm not sure what Louis was trying to do. But he ends up slipping down into Harry's lap as Harry sits up, and has to grab onto his shoulders to steady himself.
"Do you think I'm pretty, Lou?" Harry smiles.
"No. You're an idiot," Louis says, trying to avoid Harry's eyes. He's got the prettiest eyes. Harry frowns and crosses his arms, causing Louis to lose his balance a bit from the movement. Harry immediately reaches out to grab Louis' hips - to steady him, of course, just being considerate - even though Louis had done a fine job of stabilizing himself seconds before.
"I'm not an idiot," Harry mumbles, his hands still on Louis hips. His hips are so soft, Harry wants to kiss all over those hips.
"No," Louis agrees, "you're pretty smart, aren't you? I bet you could even read my mind if y'try hard enough. What do you suppose I'm thinking?" Louis asks, and Harry watched his mouth while he talks.
"M'not sure, honestly, Lou," Harry replies, his eyes still on Louis' mouth because Wow, Have His Lips Always Been This Pretty? "Gimme a hint."
So Louis smirks a little and he licks his lips, and then all of a sudden, that glorious mouth is on Harry's. Harry, honestly, is shocked. I'm not sure how, he actually is a pretty smart boy, but he didn't see that coming, somehow. But it makes him so happy, so damn happy. Harry just smiles into Louis' mouth and squeezes his little hips a bit, holding him tighter as Louis wraps his arms around Harry's neck.
And Louis is actually very happy too, Harry is a pretty special boy and kissing him is a pretty special thing. When they eventually pull apart just slightly, resting their foreheads against one another's, Harry is fumbling with one of Louis' thread bracelets. Louis smiles too, his cheeks heating up as he leans back a little so that he can look at Harry, and man is he pretty. Louis untied the bracelet Harry is currently fiddling with, then ties it around Harry's thin wrist before Harry can say anything.
Then he leans forward and kisses Harry's cheek, relishing in the feel of Harry's warm skin beneath his lips. "You're a prince," Louis states, studying Harry's deep green eyes.
"Am I still dreaming?" Harry mumbles, running his hands through Louis' soft hair. "If so, do I have to wake up?"
Louis smiles at him. "Yeah. And we should probably get going, too," he adds, glancing behind the two of them. Harry makes a whiney noise from the back of his throat.
"You're the best dream I've ever had," Harry decides, before leaning forward to kiss Louis again.
I mean, a few more minutes won't hurt, will they?
///
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER and Harry and Louis have finally begun making their way down the path again. This time, though, Harry is carry a very grumpy Louis on his back, hands squeezing his thighs. But Louis rests his cheek on Harry's head and wraps his arms around Harry's neck anyways, because Harry is actually very comfortable and very warm and soft and... he's lovely, really, I promise.
"Cheer up, Lou," Harry laughs through slightly swollen lips. "C'mon, twenty minutes ago you were kissing me like there was no tomorrow."
"Then you called me small," Louis mutters, drawing lazy patterns on Harry's chest.
"You're not small, just smaller than me," Harry grins, not even winded from carrying the cranky boy. Though, Louis is pretty small, no matter what Harry says to stroke his ego. And Harry knows that Louis is actually pretty small and so does Louis, but he lets Harry lie to him because pretty boys who are tall and considerate are just Louis' type. Well, they are now, anyways.
"I'm not. I could probably crush your skull with my thighs," Louis says. Harry blushes at the thought of his head between Louis' thighs.
"Feel free to try," he breezes cheekily, shocking Louis into silence for a few more minutes. Then they come to a fork in the road, and Louis swats at Harry's chest until he puts him down. Louis stands in front of the fork, and the two of them look off down either sides of it. On one side, the glittery blue path slopes down into a soft pink meadow, little white and purple flowers dotting the rolling hills. A warm wind breezes over the lush field, bringing a soft gust of pleasant air that smelled like strawberries up to the two boys. It rustled Harry's hair and made him feel like summertime.
Down the other side of the path was a forest, full of dark, bony trees. The sky seemed to darken on that side of the road, and multiple crows cawed overhead. The trees looked menacing. Skeletal. Harry didn't like that path.
"Okay, let's go that way," Harry mumbles, turning away from the scary-looking path and towards the one that smelled of strawberries.
Louis grimaces. He really would love to watch Harry run around in the light pink grass, dropping small little flowers in his hair, probably smiling lots and kissing Louis lots. But they don't have time for that.
"Louiiiiiis," Harry whines when he sees Louis' guilty expression. "Please?"
"It's not up to me, I swear," Louis sighs, lacing his fingers in Harry's. "Don't worry, I'll protect you. C'mon," he says.
"But you're so small," Harry mutters quietly, eating a smack from Louis before they continue down the creepy path.
The two boys walk in silence, a new tension between them. Harry knows that he's going to have to wake up soon, and so does Louis. It's a very stressful and sad thought. This whole encounter seems so real, though, every touch and sound and color so vivid. It's hard to believe that it was all a dream. Harry knows that he felt Louis kiss him. He knows because as soon as Louis put his mouth on Harry's, everything inside of him just got so warm, so happy, so light. It was beautiful. Louis is beautiful.
Louis is feeling very upset with himself at this moment, because he knew that Harry was going to leave, he knew that and he still kissed him. He doesn't regret it, of course not, although it's going to be hard to watch him go. But Louis knows he's got to get Harry out of here.
"So when I wake up, what will happen to you?" Harry asks after a few moments of silence. Louis feels a pressure on his chest, like somebody stepping on his collarbones.
"I'll be okay," he says, instead of answering.
"You'll still be here?" Harry frowns, confused by his answer.
"I'll be okay," Louis repeats, refusing to look up at Harry. Harry still isn't happy with this answer, of course, but he isn't going to push it. Instead he reaches down and pulls that purple sunflower out of his pocket, then gently brushes it behind Louis' ear. Now Harry realizes that he should have kissed Louis a lot more, earlier. This boy has not been kissed enough. Louis' heart hurts at Harry's actions. This boy is so sweet, and Louis pretends to be all tough and mean, but his face just melts when Harry smiles.
"It's okay," Louis says, more confidently now. Harry just gives him a small smile, and nods at him. So they continue down the path for just a few minutes before Harry decides to let Louis walk ahead of him because the path grows quite narrow, with thorny black branches reaching out into their space. Also, Harry can admire Louis' bum better from this angle. It's not a bad trade; not walking together in return for a great view.
They continue for a little while in silence, before the air suddenly grows much colder than it was before. And as Harry walks, he feels a strange gust and looks down. And he is shocked, to say the least.
A ghostly, bony hand has completely passed through his torso, larger than human hands but similar in shape. All the color drains from Harry's face as he croaks quietly, "Lou," trying to calm his breathing.
Louis whips his head around, eyes widening and face falling. He looks at Harry, then he looks behind Harry. "Haz," he says quietly, "I need to you go. Okay? Just keep walking. Don't come back. There's a door down the path, maybe five minutes, okay? It's not far, don't worry. Just go."
Harry frowns, frozen in place. Then he stumbles towards Louis a little, and turns to look at the creature to whom the bony hand belongs. And... oh. It's an owl.
A large, very large owl, draped in black robes. Two bony, white hands appear from the sleeves of the robes, one of them clutching a pocket watch. When the creature moves, moths fly out of the robes from each opening. It's black eyes seem to be looking right through Harry's chest. Right at Louis.
Harry feels two of Louis' hands on his back. "Please go," Louis says.
"It can't touch you, Louis, it went right through me," Harry frowns, very confused and very nervous.
"It can't touch you, Harry, it wasn't aiming for you. It missed," Louis responds.
Harry tries to calm himself down enough to think, and assess the situation. Owls, moths, clocks, the color black - all symbols of death. Not to mention the crowd that have been circling the two this entire time. The way the owl reached for Louis, the way it is impatiently staring at him, the way Louis has rushed their journey.
Harry comes to two conclusions: 1.) this creature is Death. 2.) he is not going to leave Louis here with it.
But before he can even properly finish his thoughts, the creature reaches out again, once again passing through Harry but this time, grabbing Louis. Harry's now blatantly panicking, his heart pounding and his sweat pouring down his temples. Before he can think to do any different, he wraps his hand around Louis' wrist.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU-" Louis begins to scream at him, but they are both silence as the owl-thing submerges them beneath layers of thick black robes.
Inside of the robe - well, if you could call it that, it's more of a room now - was dark. It was dark and everything was heavy. Harry and Louis stood in the room together, and it only took them a few seconds to realize that there was no oxygen in the room at all. They couldn't breathe. The gravity seemed to increase as well; their bomes felt as if they were made of lead. Harry wasn't sure how long he could last in here.
Louis grabbed Harry's face, all of his muscles aching as his energy depleted. "IDIOT," Louis gasps, a rather unwise decision, considering that that was the only air he had in his lungs, and there was no way to get more. Then he leans forward some more and presses a very sad, very small kiss on Harry's lips. It was a surrender. Louis was giving up.
Nearly blinded, Harry frowned down at Louis' faint form. He grabs his hand and pulls him, and they walk, feeling as if they were moving through jelly. It only takes a couple of seconds before their lungs are aching, muscles doing the same. Harry began feeling along the walls of the small room. Louis dragged his feet along behind Harry, having already given up. They weren't going to find a way out. Harry could try, but Louis knew it was hopeless.
Harry pushed himself, fighting the urge to take a breath, dragging Louis behind him as they felt along the wall for some sort of opening. Harry's heart sinks as Louis collapses behind him. Pins and needles prick all over his body as he turns and picks the smaller boy up, draping him across his shoulders. It's now twice as hard for Harry to continue along the wall, sweating like crazy and his whole body throbbing. Then he realizes that his heart isn't pounding in his chest anymore. It isn't beating at all. And neither is Louis'.
They don't have heartbeats, and they're not breathing. Things are not looking up.
Harry feels ready to cry when he makes it to a corner, slowly creeping along the wall until he too collapses, with Louis on his back. But Harry continues to crawl on the ground, his elbows brushing the wall until that slumps into an army crawl, his body inching along the ground. Harry's eyes are barely open at this point, his body almost entirely shut down on him.
Louis isn't moving at all.
And then, the fabric of the walls feels different. Lighter. Looser. And Harry uses the rest of his energy to push his hand against the wall and - it gives. There it is, the opening in the room. A newfound energy pushes Harry forward, sharp pains like never before shooting all over his body. But slowly, he drags himself and Louis out of the robe-room-thing, back into daylight, back into the forest.
Harry's entire body reanimates. He swallows huge gulps of air, lying flat on his back and simply being. His hair stuck to his face, his heart racing faster than anything as he lets out little pants of exhaustion. Harry smiles a little. He did it.
But, Louis. Louis hasn't moved at all.
Harry sits up, his head spinning at the movement, and hauls Louis into his lap. He grabs Louis' face, presses two fingers into his throat. No heartbeat, still.
"Louis," Harry croaks, panicking once again. "C'mon, Louis." He checks his heartbeat again, more calmly now and finds a slight, slow pulse. He's alive. And relief rushes all over Harry but Louis is still not breathing, and his pulse is so weak. Harry just spends a minute holding him, deciding whether or not he should do CPR, until Louis suddenly coughs some, and gasps some, and sputters some more. He breathes deeply for a moment before opening his eyes, and his fingers clutch Harry's sweaty shirt weakly.
Then his deep blue eyes meet those endless green eyes, and Harry is so happy, and Louis says, "Idiot." But Harry just laughs and smiles and kisses Louis' face a whole bunch.
Here is the part where they notice the giant owl-thing that has been standing there this entire time. And they both get nervous all over again, as the presence of Death is often unsettling.
But Death spoke. "All right, then," he rasped, in a voice that sounded too old for words. And then he was gone.
"Holy shit, Harry," Louis mumbles, "I was dead. I was dead and you saved me."
"I saved you," Harry repeats, beaming. "I saved us both."
"My heroic little idiot," Louis smiles, sitting up and scooting into Harry's lap and kissing him happily. They sit there for a while until their bodies begin to feel normal, kissing and smiling and playing with each other's hair. Harry blushes down at Louis with every little praise Harry gives him, about how brave or strong or kind he was, but Harry honestly thinks it was nothing. He would risk his life for this boy he just recently met, in a heartbeat, any time.
It feels like they've known each other forever, though, that's the weird thing. And that's what makes it so hard for the two of them to know that Harry does, in fact, need to wake up soon. So they just enjoy each other, ignoring any negative thoughts.
"You're definitely my favorite dream," Harry mumbles into Louis' hair. This makes Louis blush and burrow further into Harry's chest, which is something Harry finds adorable.
"Shut up," Louis mutters in response, but he's smiling. "Cutie."
But after a while, they stand up, and Harry puts Louis on his back again, and they continue down the shimmering trail. Harry enjoys the feeling of Louis' torso pressed against his back, likes feeling the way Louis' ribs expand and contract with his lungs. Harry could probably watch Louis sit and breathe and pick at his fingernails for hours, and be entertained.
They walk together in silence, simply enjoying each other's presences, until Harry stops in the middle of the path. A large door was in his way, a very large door that looked a lot like the one leading to Harry's bedroom. He frowns, and sets Louis down, and turns to face him.
"Is this the part where I have to wake up and leave you here?" Harry asks, stroking Louis' cheek fondly with his thumb.
It is.
Louis is sad, so very sad at this thought and at Harry's gesture. "You're so damn charming, Harold. Yeah, he's, you've gotta wake up now. Don't worry. I'll see you soon," he says, smiling confidently at Harry.
"Promise?" Harry mumbles, his hands finding Louis' back.
"Promise," Louis confirms, his own hands on Harry's neck. "Kiss me goodbye, now, Curly."
"I'll kiss you 'See you later,'" Harry states firmly, leaning down and pressing his lips onto Louis'. Louis squirms a little because he is actually really attracted to Harry and really attached to Harry already, something about living in a dream makes everything seem like a love song. Something about Harry makes everything seem like a love song.
Harry smiles against Louis' lips, because they taste like summer, and Harry will miss him. Harry kisses Louis' forehead too, for good measure. It's strange, how many times they have kissed in the duration of this dream, but hey, it's a dream, lay off. Let these two pretty boys with big hearts be happy, please and thank you.
Then Louis pats Harry's bum, and nods at the door, and kisses his cheek one last time. And Harry sighs. Then he opens the door. Then he walks through it.
And then he is back in his bed, and the sun has just finished setting outside of his window. Harry smiles into his pillow and stretches his long, lanky limbs, yawning and burrowing his face deeper beneath his sheets for a little while.
What a pleasant dream!
Now I know what you're thinking, and I know what Harry's thinking (again - omniscient). But Harry gets up to go have his tea, and he hums a little song as he does it, and he reflects on the dream he has just had. He remembers the beautiful boy he met and kissed and saved, and he remembers how sad that boy really is, and he remembers the purple sunflower, and he remembers dying, and he remembers living. He remembers Louis giving him one of those braided bracelets around his wrist, and smiles. He gave him the flower.
Absently, Harry touches his wrist at the thought of Louis' bracelet, fiddling with his own bracelet on his wrist. Then Harry drops his tea and the mug shatters on the ground. Because Harry doesn't wear bracelets. At all. So when he looks at his wrist and sees the orange bracelet Louis had given him in that dream, Harry's entire life seems to pause.
What the hell? Harry is thinking. What the actual, ever-living fuck is this?
Harry's thoughts are cut short by a knock at the door. He's quite shaken by the whole bracelet thing, and Harry never gets visitors, so this is strange. Somehow, though, the dorky boy manages to pull himself together enough to stumble over to the door, still dressed in a knit sweater and pajama pants. You wanna know who was at the door? I'll give you three guesses.
"Hi," Louis smiles. He smells like summertime and Harry can not breathe. A purple sunflower is tucked safely behind his ear. "Fancy a chat?"
Harry does. Harry really does fancy a chat.