Under Coloured Trees || Larry Stylinson

33

Three months later.

Louis wakes up to bagpipes.

Again.

It doesn't matter how much his life might have changed in the last year, some things will stay the same.

And Louis likes that.

He finds it tranquillizing in some weird way because he's come to realise that maybe there are certain things he wants to keep. That he doesn't want to forget everything. That maybe there was indeed something that he "came here to remember." That was the author's note, the beginning of Illusions, and even if, in contrast, it feels like the epilogue of a part of his story, it also feels like the prologue of the next.

But either way, he is not that big of a fan of those things right now, because he has woken up to the screeching fucking sounds of the possibly worst instrument to have as an alarm.

Louis doesn't really function correctly this early in the morning, but all he can figure out from his drowsy thoughts is that he doesn't know about after death stuff, but if he goes to hell, he's definitely going to find whoever invented bagpipes and fight them for eternity.

Damn Scotland and everyone in it.

And Lottie. Damn her as well. Because her little joke is getting old and Louis is going to kick her ass one of these days.

"Lou..." Louis hears someone whine in his ear and the bed shifts as Harry rolls away from him and takes the dark blue duvet with him, leaving Louis cover-less and in his underwear on his side of the bed. "Turn it off"

Louis sighs as his arm blindly knocks a book over while trying to get to the phone on the bedside table. He finally manages to reach it, but the thing is, he has to crack one eye open to do it and, once Louis opens his eyes, he's officially awake. Especially when the blinding sun rays coming through the window hit him directly in the face, not in a gentle way whatsoever.

He groans as he falls back on the mattress, rubbing the sleepiness away from his eyes before turning his head to look at Harry's back covered with the duvet, facing away from Louis.

Louis smiles.

He's been doing that quite a lot lately, and Harry has too. He doesn't know why exactly because, even if he has an idea, he wouldn't be able to put it into words.

Because it's when he wakes up mostly, that the random smiles just slip unavoidably. And that didn't use to be like that. Waking up used to be the most tedious activity in Louis' life because it meant the start of another day dealing with himself and his problems.

But now it's different. Because when he wakes up, he's not alone. When his day starts now, it does it with his issues and his flaws out in the open and with someone next to him that will help him deal with them as long as he's willing. They're not only for himself anymore, they're for Harry too, and Harry's are for him.

And an outer perspective is always better than your own because yours will always be influenced by years of looking at your own reflection and always seeing something that's wrong. But the person that looks at you from the outside knows that it's the mirror that is broken.

Louis rolls over to Harry, slipping his hand under the covers until it's met with Harry's warm skin, which shudders when Louis presses himself against his back, throwing his arm over his side while placing a swift kiss on his bare shoulder. 

"Hi" Louis whispers in Harry's ear as the boy's hand finds its way to Louis', his fingers wrapping around his forearm and squeezing softly in quiet greeting.

"Sorry, I'm asleep. Can't hear you" Harry mutters without opening his eyes, but the side of his mouth quirks upwards when Louis smiles against his shoulder.