Anchored (Larry Stylinson)

So Many Meanings.

(Flashback)

Harry POV 

Maybe it’s the shift in the wind, or the way that the moon should be a little brighter, but whatever it is, something just doesn’t feel right at the moment. It brings me to tighten my arm around Louis’ waist. He insists on holding hands with me, but I can’t really see myself only holding on to something so small and breakable. I need something that I can grab a hold of and keep in my grip.

He laughs and it echoes in the quiet streets, “Niall just texted me. Liam’s making him wait for us before they eat the pizza… poor Niall. We should walk slower,” he snorts, his fingers tapping against the tap screen. There’s a humorous look making his eyes crinkle in a grin.

I never stop observing my surroundings for anything that moves, “How about the opposite? Let’s walk a little faster Lou, hm?” I murmur, and if it weren’t for the look he sends me, I would’ve been worried that he didn’t hear me. So he flicks his eyes towards me for a second then turns to look out into the street by us, void of any cars.

“Are you okay, Harry?” His voice is small, thin with worry. I softly move my thumb, brushing it over Louis’ hip over and over, just gently pinching the skin as I bring my speed up a notch. The wind that blows my curls back feels unclean and heavy.

“I’m fine babe, just a little worried. It’s getting dark,” I say softly and his head leans against my bicep. It brings my lips to curl upward because he’s not tall enough to fully reach my shoulder. So I find where his shirt’s hem is and I slip my hand under it, rubbing at his hip bones reassuringly. I almost regret telling Liam and the others to leave without us… Niall was hungry. But I’m damn sure that it wasn’t worth Niall’s giddy yelp, not one bit.

He exhales and slides his phone into his back pocket, and I try to ignore the vibration that it makes like he does, because it seems like he doesn’t care. It still doesn’t help that such a quick movement brings my hairs on end and goose bumps to infect my arms. “We’re only a few minutes away from the hotel, Harry, everything’s fine. Loosen up a bit,” he grins, poking at my stomach. But I can’t bring myself to join his antics because something’s wrong. I know it, it’s not just some superstition, something isn’t right. I brush my hair out of my face, quickly darting my eyes from this sidewalk to the other one on the other side of the road.

I brushed my hair out of my eyes, rubbing at my temples profusely. The tears hadn’t slowed down and Niall was curled into Zayn’s side. No one was able to understand him for the past three hours. Whenever I slept for the past four months, I always treasured the mark of three hours and wished they’d drag on for an eternity, but those hours would go by so quickly. Now that I was waiting to see something I truly desired, the three hours feel like I was at this hospital for an entire week.

Liam went to the bathroom a long time ago. I think he was throwing up. My back felt like it had been shaped and morphed to stay the way it was, bent inward to form a shell for my otherwise vulnerable body. I was curled up in this one chair the moment I received the call that they had followed my directions and they were right.

Only six hours ago, I had figured out the puzzle. I had watched all of the videos over again for the umpteenth time and something suddenly stuck out to me. The words “read between the lines” that appeared only for a second, flashing and then fading sent my mind reeling and for a second, a blast of hope had literally shattered my entire being. I spent ten minutes just replaying those words through my mind, decoding it and deciphering it, needing to know what it meant. So many things. So many meanings.

And in that moment in time, I truly, honestly believed that my mind couldn’t handle anymore.

“Dammit Niall, stop texting me,” Louis sighs and pats his back pocket. He looks up and smiles at me as he talks, but I can’t bring myself to avert my alerted scanning, “I swear he thinks he’s going to die if he can’t eat at this exact moment.” There’s a weak chuckle and his hand reaches up to mine, the one that now is currently clutching, clinging onto his hip bone. He gently lays his hand atop of mine, brushing his fingers over my knuckles in a sense to calm me down. But the most I can do is keep my eyes sharp because we’re so close to our building but that doesn’t mean anything.