Twenty Days (Larry Stylinson) (COMPLETE)

IMPORTANT AUTHORS NOTE: This is a one shot, I repeat - a one shot! So yes, it lacks extreme detail, yes, it has a lot of metaphors and yes, each bit is short. You don't need to tell me because I already know. I wrote it!

It's not half bad though. Come on . . . you know you wanna reeead iiiiit. ;)   

It's also my first fanfic so be gentle on my poor little heart! With that in mind . . . enjoy mi amigos. :D

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 On the first day, Louis was placed in the room. Strangers had hooked him up with wires and machines and fed tubes like white snakes into his body. They writhed under his skin and pumped just enough energy into his system to keep him alive.

   Doctors, nurses, doctors, nurses had flitted in and out of the room to check on him and fill up the toxins in the bellies of the snakes that spat inside his body. They were strangers turned puppeteers,  coquetting with Louis' strings and dangling him somewhere between life and death. Machines beeped the rhythm of his heart. Beep-beep . . . beep-beep . . .steady. Stable.

   Harry cried more that day than he'd ever cried in his life. He'd watched in horror as the dog ran across the road, watched the car swerve, skid on the ice, hurtle towards Louis and . . .

   Then they were in the hospital and Harry's heart was torn and beaten down, in a pool of blood on the floor.

   On the second day Harry stopped crying. His mind had gone blank and trepidation was all he knew because Louis was in a coma and it was impossible to tell when he would wake up — if he would wake up.

   In a way, he refused to believe what was happening. His mind told him Louis was sleeping so he didn't talk in fear of waking him up. The other boys spent visiting hours in tears and comforting each other. When they left Harry stayed and they all understood.

   His fame and money allowed him disregard of visiting hours so he watched Louis through the night an ignored the fatigue that crept in on him.

   On the third day Harry touched his friend for the first time.

   The swinging door had created a breeze that lifted a lock of Louis' hair and dropped it over his eye. Harry's hand twitched. He wanted to brush his fingers through Louis' hair, to hold his hand, to kiss his forehead. But he was afraid of how the older boy's skin would feel under his own. Would it be cold? Fragile? Would it break? Harry imagined it bruising under a mere feather's touch.

   He reached out his shaking hand and gingerly brushed Louis' hair out of his eyes. The contact made his heart race — Louis' skin was so cold and Harry felt the snakes' venom pulsating beneath his fingertips.

   Harry held Louis' hand constantly throughout the fourth day. He only let go to throw up his breakfast in the toilet while disinfectant in the air scalded his throat.

   The boys visited and Louis' mother arrived. She bustled into the room, daughters at her heels, while her familiar perfume washed some slight relief through Harry's limbs. Jay's face broke when she saw her son but what made tears spill down Harry's cheeks was when the first thing she did was cross the room and engulf him in a hug.