i sleep naked ➸ larry stylinson

sixty one

i loved the way he breathed.

it was perhaps my favourite song, if i may say, to listen to. to place my hand on his chest and feel it rise and fall beneath my fingertips as he slept, his heartbeat strong and pure. i could hear the small breaths escape his lips and disappear into the air, into my ears where i would remember the sound forever. his breathing made part of me feel alive, as if whenever he let out a little whimper in his sleep or held his breath as he turned on his side i would feel it too. i loved to watch the way his mouth opened and closed, as if he was murmuring to himself in his sleep. i liked to grab his long fingers and find all the ways i could intertwine them with mine. i loved his fingers, they were the same ones that brushed across my cheek and jaw before we kissed and the ones that always managed to squeeze my hipbone before they cupped the small of my back gently.

his skin was softer than mine, although he always told me that i reminded him of dove soap. it was one of those things that he had in his mind, those final things that he always repeated. that was part of harry, repeating things and wanting them to remain the same. he told me that he never wanted me to change the way i make tea, and always to put my laundry into different piles. i liked to kiss him when he was saying those things. 

and his chocolate curls. they were always so soft beneath my touch, slipping from my fingers every time i ran my hands through his hair. i loved the way the back of his head looked, when all of his curls were pushed forward and they poked out from behind his ears.

but i couldn't see the back of his head right now, because he was laying down, he was still sleeping, his lilac lids closed to reveal a curtain of dark coal lashes. there was an oxygen mask placed over his lips, fogging up every time he breathed. i hoped to god that he would be able to breathe on his own soon.

the doctor said only one person could visit at a time, and of course that meant anne got to go first. i hope she could feel my stare of pure resentment as my eyes followed her until she disappeared into the hallway. i was tempted to ask her where ross had went, if he had decided to become less of a coward and finally face the fact that the boy who he tore down, the boy he separated from his mother, was hurt. i hope he was guilty, that all the words he said left a burning feeling in his mouth, a churning feeling in his stomach like yesterday left mine.

the doctor said that his collapsed lung wasn't too late to be treated, and if he stayed on a ventilator long enough it would heal on its own. i bet niall was secretly laughing at me because of how hard i cried, how freaking wide i smiled when i knew. i knew he was going to be okay.

but then again, what is the definition of "okay?" i took it upon myself while anne was busy begging a sleeping angel for forgiveness to look it up on my phone. it said, "satisfactory but not exceptionally or especially good." and i wondered. would harry be okay with having broken ribs, a fractured wrist, and staples in his forehead? would he be okay with his mum finally visiting and realising that there had to be a car accident for her to finally be there for him? 

was he okay before the accident? i wouldn't know, i was too busy talking to mum on the phone to grab him by his arm and ask him. i wish i had, because maybe that would save him a lot of pain.

but now, here i was, trying to ignore the obvious presence of anne in the waiting room outside, and admiring the curve of harry's jaw and cheekbones. how could one be so beautiful, so breathtaking? yeah, anne was pretty and i had never met his dad, des, but i had never seen someone as perfect, prepossessing, as this boy laying down right here. there was a bandage covering the cut just below his hairline, and a blue cast on his wrist. and i knew that when he woke up it would be hard for him to breathe because his ribs were fractured.

i held his hand tightly in mine, jumping a bit when i heard footsteps behind me. i whipped my head around, surprised to see a doctor. it wasn't the doctor who had spent all night repairing harry, but a different one.