Beautiful Nightmares (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter 9

LOUIS’ P.O.V

         I am numb. I am completely unaware of my surroundings and the events taking placing in them. I can’t feel anything. It’s like the power of emotion has been ripped from me, leaving me anesthetized – entirely closed off from the world. The only thing that envelops me is silence. I sit, curled up protectively in a ball, barely being able to recognize that my arms are wrapped around my knees in a form of self-support. My eyes are open yet closed, the shapes of objects swirling around me in a daze. It’s like I’m looking through a thick piece of glass – everything is deformed and abnormal, stretched beyond its regular formation that I’m so familiar with. The corners of my vision are etched with white, which is slowly overpowering my sight with its blinding starkness. I’m having such an out-of-body experience, that I can’t tell whether or not I’m going to faint. The whiteness is suffocating me to the point where I can’t think anymore.

“Louis? Louis!”

Harry’s face is suddenly breaking through the nothingness, pressing into my perception. His face is lined with concerned wrinkles and complete worry, his expression one of anxiety. He takes my head in between his hands, gently shaking it to try and make me emerge from my state of emotionlessness.

“Louis snap out of it! You’re scaring me!” he snaps and moisture springs to his eyes, tears filling them.

I gaze into the depth of his vivid green eyes once more before my head rolls back and the white takes over.

~~~~ 

LIAM’S P.O.V

I run my hands over my short hair, squeezing the growing strands in exasperation. I walk up the steps into the hospital’s entrance, the lads following suit. The haunting sound of sirens echo in my ears, their high pitched wailing ringing over the clamorous NYC traffic. Unclenching my fists from my buzz cut, I glance over my shoulder at my best friends staggering behind me. The regular friendly excited chatter that normally occurred when we were going somewhere is forgotten and the expression on all their faces is the exact same; distraught and distressed. But the worst has to be Harry. He’s stricken with fear and absolutely petrified – to the point where his hands are shaking in terror.

My frown deepened in worry even further than I thought possible as I continued to look at the poor lad. Him and Louis were practically joined at the hip, as their relationship was tighter, closer and more intimate than any of their friendships with myself or the other lads. Over the years, Harry had developed quite a protective layer of skin that could camouflage his true emotions and conceal any unwanted sensitivity exceptionally well, when in the situation concerning the obnoxious media. But the lads and I could regularly read one another in remarkable detail - picking up on each other’s emotions - yet at this point, anyone could see that Harry was in a great deal of pain.

I sigh as we arrive at the front desk and lean my body against the counter. The receptionist, an older lady with horn-rimmed glasses dangling from a golden chain, glances up from her mass of papers scattered in her workspace. She looks at me expectantly, gesturing with her eyes for me to speak.

“Hi, we’re looking for Louis Tomlinson, member of One Direction?” I murmur in a hushed tone, careful not to draw much attention to the lads and I. We didn’t want to put much emphasis on the fact that we were famous, even more so that one of us was in the hospital.