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It’s 2:06am and Louis knows, without a fraction of a doubt, that there are dead things in his apartment.
But the thing that’s frightening him most at this moment is his own brain. His brain that is wild and alive. His brain that has just crashed him out of sleep with horrid nightmares and left him gasping, shaking in a cold sweat. Louis pulls the covers over his head and lets out a whimper he will never admit to. His heart feels grotesque.
“We’ve got half a day off tomorrow,” Harry yawned, sounding forcedly positive as they dragged themselves into the apartment and Louis closed the door loudly behind them.
“Oh, half a day off, that’s just great, Harry. That’s really super.” Louis could feel himself getting sarcastic. The cutting remarks actually twisted around in his blood before they sprang out of his mouth; years and years of keeping his head above water this way and he still felt like he was drowning every time. He hated himself when he got like this but there wasn’t anything he could do to stop it. He could see Harry’s shoulders tensing. They’d been at each other’s throats all evening griping over pointless little nothings, the relentlessness of their work taking its toll.
Harry’s in the room next door, he knows. Usually they sleep in the same bed when they’re at home, but they were having a bit of an off night so Harry decided to sleep in his coffin. Louis wishes he hadn’t now. He wishes he’d thought things through and convinced Harry to stay with him, because somehow things always get worse when Harry’s not around.
He knew Harry didn’t deserve this. Harry apparently knew it too. The boy was sighing tiredly, running his hands through his hair as he walked towards his room. “Whatever, Lou. Let’s just talk in the morning, yeah? I’ll sleep in the coffin tonight.”
Louis curls his body up as tightly as he can. He takes a deep breath and counts to twenty. On twenty he steps out of his bed and shivers as the chilly darkness of his room washes over him, and then he dashes for the door.
Louis slips through the door and slams it behind him, heart pounding. He blinks at the dim light in the empty hallway and pouts. He wasn’t expecting Harry to be waiting right outside his bedroom, but he realises that he wasn’t expecting him not to be, either. Harry’s not here and that makes him inexplicably sad. Happy, because hallways are horrible places to sleep and Louis is glad that Harry has a nice, comfortable coffin to rest in. But sad.
Trembling, Louis pads down the hall to Harry’s door. He raises his hand to knock on the door and freezes.
It sounded like such a dreadful statement – ‘I’ll sleep in the coffin tonight,’ goodness – but Louis was getting used to these things. Honestly, they weren’t what bothered him. What bothered him was seeing Harry disappear through the door to his room and knowing that that was it for tonight; that there wasn’t anything he could do to make the night better. That he didn’t really even know how to try. He had to go to his room and just wait and accept it. Tonight, he was sleeping alone.
Louis doesn’t knock. He lowers his hand. He turns away from the door, ready to go back to his own room.
He doesn’t need it. He doesn’t need to wake Harry up when the boy probably doesn’t want to see him anyway. He doesn’t need to make a fool of himself over a nightmare of all things. He doesn’t need cuddles or special attention. He’s not a child. He can cope without all of that.
Shivering only slightly, he folds his arms over his chest and takes a determined step towards his own room. He’s fine.
Somewhere in the city, lightning flashes and thunder booms. At the exact same moment, the light in the hallway goes out.
Louis suppresses a shriek and whirls back to Harry’s door, flinging it open and scampering inside.
Harry’s room is comforting because Harry, but it’s also a bit terrifying because dead things. Normally Louis doesn’t mind it. He finds the centuries-old rabbits’ feet and shrivelled up heads of he-doesn’t-even-know-what kooky and fascinating. But obscured by darkness, everything becomes a potential monster. Small beads shine out at him like demonic, watchful eyes. The silhouettes of gnarled trees seem to climb out of their pots and stalk towards him. Other things simply crouch and wait.
Louis sets his gaze on Harry’s coffin and begins to edge slowly towards it. He’s moved about an inch when he notices a shape behind Harry’s curtain. It’s tall and lumpy and probably a flesh-eating clown. Louis wasn’t aware that Harry associated with flesh-eating clowns, but he’s friends with Nick Grimshaw so who knows? Either way, Louis sets his jaw and moves tenaciously closer to the coffin at the end of the room. He’s a man on a mission. The clowns will not take him today.
Something creaks, and Louis mentally runs through everything he knows about survival in the ninth circle of Hell – which is incidentally quite a lot; his mother has always liked to be prepared for any situation – before he realises that it’s just Harry’s coffin. He’s probably shifting around in it. The knowledge that he’s there encourages Louis. Inhaling deeply, he takes the last few steps to the coffin and taps on its lid. “Harry?”
Silence. And then, the coffin lid starts to lift open.
Louis’ heart is still fluttering a bit, but as the lid comes up it pushes the flesh-eating-clown shape. The shape falls over, hurtling towards Louis. Louis screams and clambers into the coffin without asking for permission, clinging to the warm person inside.
There’s more silence, and Louis is so confused when the clown doesn’t immediately attack him that he peeks over the edge of the coffin to look down at it.
It’s a mop. Who stands a mop on its handle behind a curtain, really, Louis wonders, before he remembers that he’s pressed against a cuddly vampire who has yet to grant him permission to get into his bed.
Louis looks down. Harry is gazing dozily up at him. “Hey,” Louis whispers, feeling sheepish.
Suddenly he wonders if this is okay. Maybe he should have stayed in his own bed. Maybe Harry really doesn’t want to see him right now. This is awful. He should leave. He can’t leave. He can’t meet Harry’s gaze so he focuses on his soft lips, and is surprised when they morph into a small smile. “Hey,” Harry whispers back, lightly flicking his hair.
When Louis has the courage to meet Harry’s eyes, he sees that they’re gentle but questioning. He traces Harry’s collarbones, biting his lip. “Mmhadanightmaremm,” he eventually mumbles into Harry’s shoulder.
Harry chuckles and hugs him tightly, pressing a kiss to his hair. Louis closes his eyes. Harry’s arms are around him. He can finally relax. This feels natural. He's safe. “Want to talk about it?” Harry murmurs, tracing soothing patterns on his back.
Louis thinks about it. “Not really,” he sighs, nuzzling his face into Harry’s chest. “I don’t remember much.” He doesn’t, anymore. The things that seemed so scary before are disappearing from his mind.
Minutes pass as they drift slowly back to sleep. Louis thinks that Harry might be sleeping already, but then he whispers, “I’m glad you came in.”
Louis nods. “Me too.” He doesn’t confess that he nearly didn’t, but he thinks Harry can probably guess that anyway. “’M sorry about all the bickering tonight. Was just tired. I know you were too,” he says instead.
He can feel Harry grin against his hair. “So guilty you had dreams about it, eh?” he teases, but before Louis can scoff he adds, “I’m sorry too. And next time we fight I won’t – whatever. I don’t need the space, or whatever. I’ll sleep in with you. Feels weird when I don’t.”
“Please do,” Louis agrees. His eyes are slipping closed. “Love you,” he murmurs with a little sigh, hearing Harry respond with his own ‘love you’ and feeling a hand clap meaningfully onto his arse. He giggles and pushes Harry playfully away. He wonders if Harry can tell that he pulls him in closer afterwards. Judging by the way Harry tangles around him, he thinks Harry probably can.