Silenced- A Larry Stylinson Story

Chapter 25- POV Louis: Fond

Mum tells me his name is Harry- he's my boyfriend. Was my boyfriend. She tells me we loved each other, that he broke up with me and I was devastated, that I did this to myself. She tells me it's okay, and that I will remember. I sure hope she's right.

He doesn't know I can see him hovering outside of my hospital room, eyes glassy and dazed, staring into space. I see Niall escorting him away from my room every one in a while, to convince him to eat, or use the bathroom, or sit down, but he always ends up coming back, leaning his buff arm on the doorframe, peeking his curious eyes, nearly covered by a curtain of brown curls, around the trim to spy on me. 

It's a little bit creepy- but mostly sweet. If I knew who he was, that is. I had Niall print out a few pictures of us together, and I spend my time looking at them, trying to force the memories back in my brain, observing the way he fondly stares at my lips, and the way the corners of his green eyes crinkle when he smiles, and how I stare back at him like he's my whole world.

I want to remember, I do. No one wants to lose the memory of someone they love so much they get themselves into such a mess they end up having brain surgery to prove their love. But then again, no one thinks it will backfire like this.

I lean my head back, against a flat hospital pillow, and wince as it starts throbbing again. I can't tell if it's from the surgery I had a few days ago or from the way I have been making myself stare at pictures and watch videos, trying so desperately to just remember That's all I want. To remember. Besides completely forgetting my vocabulary of almost all culinary-based words, Harry is the only part of my life I can't seem to recollect. But oh, how I want to.

It's torture to watch him force himself not to cry as he observes me from the door. I'd do anything to remember him.

I'd do it all again, just to be the one to put that lustful gleam in his eyes, like the one I saw in the picture. Just to be the one that isn't the cause of his tears, the new wrinkles forming as his forehead creases with worry, the pain he holds in his seemingly shattered heart. I'd take away all of his pain in half a heartbeat, without a second thought. If only I could.

If only I freaking remembered.

So, to make up for my frustration, I spend my time in the hospital watching The Great British Bake-off and staring at pictures of us together. The staring-at-pictures tactic I developed to restore my memory hasn't quite worked yet, though at this point I'll try anything.

"Hi, Boobear." Mum pokes her head around the doorframe, in which Harry is still hovering.

"Hi, Mum." I mumble grudgingly.

"Guess that means no luck, huh?" I shake my head in defeat. "It's okay, hun. It will come back. Just give it time. The doctor said it would only take a few weeks. Hold out hope little longer."

"I'm trying." I sigh, fingering the white bandages that are still wrapped carefully around my wrists.

"I know you are." She strides over to my bed and places a kiss on my forehead, sweeping away the fringe that covers my eyes a bit. After a noticeable hesitation, she sits in the chair next to my bead, a sympathetic look pasted across her face. I'd know that look anywhere.

"You have to work now, huh?" My eyes drift around the room, avoiding eye contact.

"I'm so sorry, Louis." Her eyebrows drop from their heightened position, communicating to me the pure sorrow she must feel.

"No, it's fine. I get it."

"See you tonight."

"See you later, Mum." After a sad smile in my direction, she walks off and I am alone again, finally. I turn on the TV, flicking through the channels. Nothing interesting on, but I leave it playing for some background noise. I lean my head back against the pillow, close my tired eyes, and let all the air leave my lungs.

How the hell did I end up here? Who even am I anymore? What kind of person have I become? Where did it all go wrong? What the hell happened?

My mind flicks over my life, in and out of the memories I do remember and as I look over my circumstances, and a heaviness forms in my heart that makes me want to stop existing. Not die, because that idea doesn't really appeal to me- just to stop existing. Disappear without consequences, without hurting those around me, without leaving a trace. For my mess of a life to not exist. I'm not crying, just laying here, thinking, contemplating my existence, questioning my meaning, willing myself to vanish.

Why me?

"Stop." A deep voice demands sharply, causing me to jump out of my skin and snap my head in the direction of the tone. Low and behold, there stands Harry in the doorway, eyes puffy and red, looking like he hasn't slept- or showered, for that matter- in days. Panic subconsciously takes over my body, and I rub my damp palms together anxiously.

"What?" I manage to squeak.

"You were rubbing your bandages. Don't do that." He says shortly, and I can almost see his heart crumbling as I stare into his deep green eyes. I can understand why I loved them so much. They're beautiful.

"Why do you care?"

"Because I freaking love you, Lou." He had a nickname for me? "And I know you don't have any idea who I am, but I'm not giving up because you were the only source of hope left in my life. You were what got me to wake up in the morning, to go to school, to smile, to stay alive, for god's sake. And I know you're probably confused as hell right now, and I know all this means nothing to you, but I'm not giving up until it does, so you're stuck with me for now. I can't bear to just walk away from the only thing keeping me alive. So you'd better start getting used to me being here."

Silence takes over the room, swirling in and out of my ears and around his, making me dizzy, so I have to lay down again. Did he really love me that much?

What feels like an eternity passes, before he sighs in defeat. I glance over to see him holding his head in his hands, letting out a string of swears so quiet I can barely hear.

He spins around slowly, and steps towards the doorway, but hands still covering his head, he walks straight into the wall and clumsily falls backwards onto his bum. Instinctively, a bubbly giggle escapes my mouth, causing the corners of his mouth to twitch upward as his eyes flick to mine and I can see his eyes shining at the sound.

Picking himself up off the floor, he begins to leave again, and, hands sweaty and shaking, I whisper, "You can sit in the chair if you want." 

I wait for him to answer, but he's too far out of earshot to hear my mumble anyways, so I give up and rest my eyes, drifting off into the darkness that I wish so violently to be consumed by for the rest of eternity.

{Comment and vote!}