Beautiful Nightmares (Larry Stylinson)

Epilogue

Author's Note: Before you begin reading, notice that this is in third person...sorry for any inconvience!

Cheers,

LarryisEdtastic x.

“Tell me about the nightmares.”

It was a drizzly Sunday morning in London, and Harry was leaning against the marble countertop in his flat, pouring steaming hot water into an awaiting teacup when Louis asked.

He swore quietly under his breath as his hand jerked and the water splattered all over his baggy t-shirt. The heat burned his skin through the thin, white material.

Pretending he hadn’t heard Louis’ voice, Harry readjusted his grip on the glass teapot and poured the water smoothly into another cup. The teabag rose to the top, the sweet aroma of the herbs tickling his nose. He opened the wooden cabinet above him and stretched for the sugar jar he kept on the highest shelf to prevent Louis from eating the cubes raw. He plopped two into each cup and stirred wearily.

He padded barefoot across the hardwood floors of the kitchen and into the small area they called “The Lounge”. Large, glass windows framed by cream curtains spread from wall to wall on the one side, exposing a bird’s eye view of London. Big Ben stood sullenly in the distance, seeming to droop like the pedestrians below in the foggy rain. The dark clouds cast shadows over the white-walled room.

 Louis took his cup gratefully from Harry’s outstretched hand and nodded in thanks. Harry waved off the acknowledgement and sank into his favourite chair, a plush red-leathered one that was tucked in the corner beside the shelves of books. He took long sips of his sweet tea, pausing only to gaze at the spray of grey rainwater trickling down the windows.

“It’s miserable out there,” Harry whispered so quietly Louis had to lean forwards to catch his words.

Louis nodded in agreement, not sure what to say. He wasn’t used to this version of Harry with the closed-off, secretive behaviour and pained expression. It only happened when he mentioned what had happened just over a year ago. Harry would seem to drown in his thoughts and only resurfaced from his pool of misery when Louis wrapped his body around his.

“And, if you want me to tell you about miserable things, then outside is the perfect place to do it,” Harry finished his spoken thought, his nervous eyes darting cautiously over to meet Louis’. “If that’s okay with you, I mean. I think…I think I’m finally ready to tell you.”

Louis blinked in astonishment and froze. In a flash, Harry had stood up and begun to retreat into the kitchen like a deer caught in the headlights.

Louis jumped up and grabbed Harry’s hand in desperation. “It’s fine! It’s fine – it’s more than fine – if you want to…tell me, you know,” he stuttered, trying to grasp where on earth this bit of confidence in the midst of Harry’s deepest fears had emerged from.

He hadn’t the slightest clue, but was thankful for it regardless.

Louis gently pressed his parted lips to Harry’s forehead. “You can tell me anything,” he breathed.