better than that [larry stylinson] ✔️

" im trying to sleep "

Harry had always had dark and scary dreams, even as a little kid.

Each time he closed his eyes, he'd enter a world of destruction where everything was pitch black and showed drips of blood everywhere he turned. There was nothing dumb popping out at him like the Boogie Man or monsters with more than two heads, but it was something much more haunting. He would occasionally see reflections of him that smirked with mischief, their eyes burning bright with red flames. Harry often saw himself holding a murderous weapon, or something that could pass as harmless, and whenever he tried to reach for it- it vanished.

And then he was alone again.

He once tried to speak to his mother about his strange dreams, but she would only laugh and say that it's probably the devil's way of communicating with him. Looking back at it now, it didn't appear as silly as he use to think it was. It was actually a legit guess. He stood in the middle of his vacant dreamland with a blank expression on his pale face, looking behind his shoulder to to see a short and petite figure standing under illuminating lights, their shadow the only thing that he could make out.

The shadow's hand reached out for him as he turned around completely, their lips parting as the whole room turned to white. "Harry, wake up."

Harry squinted through the light and tried to get a good look at the person behind all of this, but the dream was beginning to fade out almost as quickly as he faded in. Everything began to blur out of focus until he blinked twice and returned back to real life, feeling a hand intertwined with his own, the grip tightening when he tried to pry away.

"Your dreams are very vivid." said Louis quietly with his eyes closed, his shoulder pressing against Harry's. The lack of space was making Harry the tiniest bit uncomfortable, but he was too tired to do much about it. "I wouldn't be able to sleep like that."

"Well, I was sleeping just fine until you woke me up." stated Harry groggily, using his spare hand to swipe at the crust near his eyes. His eyes averted towards the window, frowning when he realized that it was morning time from the way the sun tried to escape into his dull room. He hated the morning time and he wished that he could stay in bed all day, but he knew that his parents would not approve. "Can you uh- let go of my hand, maybe?"

Louis obliged and sat up in bed, watching as Harry stood up and grabbed a towel that was lying on top of a chair in the corner of the room. He walked over to the bathroom door and stood there for a second before turning back to Louis, who had a small smile on his face.

"You stay here, okay?" asked Harry carefully, watching Louis nod his head with understanding before locking himself inside of the bathroom, quickly turning on the shower water and letting out a soft sigh. He doesn't know how he's going to manage to live with this angel and he hoped that it wasn't long. He needed the littlest bit of privacy.

He stripped of his sweaty clothes and took his time getting into the shower, the warm water hitting against his skin and swirling down the drain. Harry closed his eyes for a split second before opening them again, his gaze sitting upon a stray razor sitting on the edge of the tub, it's edges still clean and sharp. He tried to give up and just look away, but his arms were practically itching to be drawn with blood.

Harry picked up the razor and rolled it between his fingers underneath the shower head, the gleam sending a smile to his face. He was about to create a steady line across his arm when he heard the door open, dropping the razor onto the bottom of the tub frantically.

"Harry, can we go out somewhere today?" questioned Louis in a whisper, causing Harry to swear under his breath.

"Yeah, wherever you want just get out." he said in reply before grabbing his wash cloth from on top of the railing, deciding not to cut at this moment but later. Louis shut the door about a minute later, and Harry continued his shower with itching skin.

. . .

Harry stepped out of the bathroom with his towel wrapped around his waist, water droplets cascading off of his skin and onto the carpeted floor in slow movements. He looked around the room in search of the feathered hair angel, raising his eyebrow with skepticism when he realized that he was not in the room.

"Louis?" called out Harry carefully, giving up looking for Louis so that he could get dressed. He picked up a gray shirt from the floor and pulled it over his head speedily, not really caring if it was dirty, while picking up the boxers lying next to it and slipping it on under his towel. He dropped the towel and made his way over to his drawer, where he found his one of many black skinnies and put them on.

He made sure to be extra careful when slipping them past his thighs, cuts from a few days ago reluctantly uncleaned having a chance of reopening. When he was done, he used his hand to ruffle his damp hair, not really caring how it looked at this point. Harry grabbed some money and stuffed it inside of his back pocket before leaving the room, walking through the hallway until he got to the living room.

Sitting on the couch was none other than his father, who had a firm grip on a bottle of whiskey while watching a football game. He tried to slip past him and exit through the front door, but his dad raised his palm and paused the TV, something he did to show that he wanted to speak. "Where are you going, H?"

Harry flinched at the nickname and placed his hand on the doorknob, shrugging his shoulders. "Going to take a walk downtown for a while."

There was a pause before his dad started to play the game again, allowing him to release a sigh of relief and leave the house again. That's when he saw it. Or him.

Louis was talking to the Horan Boys from across the street.