Once in a Lifetime

Twelve.

Three words. As soon as Louis had let those words fall from his mouth, he instantly shut off. Harry felt Louis' body tense when he heard his own voice, croaky and underused, before he started to tremble. Harry knew Louis hadn't talked for many weeks, so to hear his voice directed at him was a moment that he would never forget. Louis felt comfortable enough to talk, even if it was an accident and he was already regretting it. Harry held Louis as he shook, the tears once again soaking into Harry's shoulder. They stayed that way until Harry moved slightly so he could look at Louis, concentrating on how his eyes were distant and glossy.

"Louis? Lou? Can you, um, can you hear me?" Nothing. "Okay, um, well, you can take the bed tonight, I'm happy to sleep on the sofa. Do you want me to, uh, show you to the room or do you think you can find it?" Nothing. "Here, um, I'll take you," he said, carefully taking Louis' hand and helping him to stand up. Louis was unsteady on his feet, his legs shaking and his palm sweaty against Harry's. He slowly led Louis to the bedroom, opening the door to reveal his neatly made bed, his work-covered desk, and his cluttered bookshelf. He wished he had picked up his clothes off the floor, but Louis' presence had been a surprise. He kicked them to the side as he walked Louis to the bed, gently sitting him down before going over to his chest-of-drawers to find Louis something to sleep in. "Um, I don't know how you prefer to sleep but I have a t-shirt and some shorts here or I can find some sweatpants, what would you like?" he asked, turning back to Louis to see him staring straight ahead, his eyes fixated. He was starting to breathe a little faster, instantly making Harry rush to his side. Louis' breathe got quicker and shallower, his eyes still stuck on the empty wall in front of him. "Lou, it's okay, I'm here," Harry whispered, kneeling in front of Louis' panicking body. As Louis continued to fight for breath, Harry continued to whisper soothing, reassuring words, letting Louis know that he wasn't alone. It took almost twenty minutes for Louis to regain control of his breathing, and once Harry was sure he was okay he helped Louis shuffle into bed, leaving the spare clothes at the bottom so Louis could change if he wanted to. Harry pulled the duvet up to Louis' chin, smiling gently as Louis closed his eyes to block out the world. He walked back to the door, switching the light off and letting the darkness engulf Louis' figure. "I hope you're alright, Lou. I'll be in the living room if you, um, if you need anything. Good night," Harry said into the darkness, his voice mixing with Louis' quiet breathes. He closed the door, going back into the living room to pull the blanket out from under the coffee table. Harry closed his eyes and thought about the boy currently asleep in his bed. He knew Louis needed help, and he was determined to be there to give it to him.

The next morning, Louis opened his eyes to find himself in an unfamiliar room. He looked around, noticing the clothes scattered around the floor, the piles of papers and textbooks on the desk, the shelves filled with literary classics such as Oscar Wilde and Ernest Hemingway. It wasn't until he looked at the nightstand that he realised where he was. There, in a little frame facing the bed, was a picture of a smiling family. Louis could see Harry in the middle, an older woman and a younger woman standing on each side of him. Next to who Louis assumed to be Harry's mum, stood an older gentleman, mid-laugh as he looked towards the camera. They were all smiling, and it caused something strange in Louis' chest. He climbed out of bed, going straight to the living room where he found Harry's sleeping body tangled in a light pink blanket. He allowed his lips to curve up slightly at the sight, until he remembered everything that had happened the night before. Liam and Niall fighting. Mr Mute. Texting Harry. Lou. Harry standing up to Liam. Mr Mute. Louis thanking Harry. Thank you, Harry. Louis' panic attack. Lou. Sleeping in Harry's bed. Mr Mute. Lou. Thank you, Harry. Mr Mute. Lou. Thank you, Harry. Mr Mute. Lou. Thank you, Harry. Louis quickly grabbed his shoes and coat from next to the front door, fumbling with the keys still in the lock until the door swung open and Louis stepped into the cold, fresh air of the early Sunday morning. He slammed the door behind him, once again running until he found himself back at his house. He was bright red, he could barely feel his hands they were so cold, and he was sweating and panting like he had run a marathon. He pulled out his keys, barely able to unlock the door as he shook so much. As soon as he did, he ran up the stairs, the house silent as the other boys slept soundly in their beds. The first thing Louis did was shower, scrubbing his skin until it started to bleed. Once he was satisfied that he was hurting enough, he went into his room, hiding in his bed as Harry's name flashed rhythmically on his phone screen.