Mirrors (A Larry Stylinson Fanfic) NEWLY REVISED

Photograph

NEW REVISED
Chapter Three: Photograph-Ed Sheeran

Louis' POV:

Harry Edward Styles was born in Holmes Chapel, England. He came to the US his freshman year to study English and creative writing, leaving behind his mother and sister. UMass wasn't his first option, but he told me he immediately fell in love with Boston once he got to America to tour the school. When I asked his favorite color, he sat deep in thought before telling me that that was a "very difficult question to answer," and that it usually depended on his mood; today it was blue. He hated when people were late, preferred iced coffee to hot, and reluctantly admitted that his guilty pleasure was binge watching Grey's Anatomy.

It went on like this for hours; we had spent all night sitting in front of the mirror, trying to get to know one another better. Maybe it was ridiculous considering what was happening, but there was no use in us standing there like idiots trying to find the answer to the impossible question. We were here and we had to make the most of this situation, no matter how far fetched it was.

We had asked everything from favorite movies, to deepest fears and regrets, to best childhood memories. Harry was easy to talk to, and I found myself captivated by the smooth rhythm of his voice and accent, and the way he spoke to you as if you were the only person who mattered in the world. He seemed so much wiser than his twenty two years.

The way he spoke and felt about writing was exactly how I felt about photography. It was his escape; a chance to fully open up and be himself. He talked about some of the things he worked on, and even read me a few of his poems after I practically forced him too. He had a gift, and I couldn't help but wonder what went on in his mind and heart to make him write such captivating and beautiful pieces.

In the few hours that we had spoken, I felt as if I had known him my entire life, as crazy as that sounded. He was so open and honest and trusting, allowing me a glimpse inside his beautiful mind, and I appreciated every piece of it.

"What's your opinion on the moon?" I asked, making him laugh and look at me with amusement in his green eyes, a possession of his I had become very fond of.

"What kind of question is that?"

"I don't know. Do you think it's some big ball of cheese or a pile of dust?" I pressed, playing along with the light and effortlessness of the conversation. Harry looked me in the eyes for a moment, seemingly deep in thought, before answering the question.

"I've always liked the moon, honestly. Space fascinates me; it's humbling, if that makes sense. Like we are such an insignificant part to this great universe. We are just a small fraction of what goes on all over the world, and even up there in the unknown. I guess I see the moon and the stars as a reminder of that, it's grounding and terrifying and beautiful all at the same time." He finished, leaving me speechless.

"Did I say something wrong? Did you really think it was just a ball of cheese, and I ruined it for you." Harry teased, his dimples showing in his smile. I chuckled and shook my head.

"No, I've just never heard someone think of space and the moon like that. I wasn't expecting it, but I can see where you're coming from. When you think about it we are just an insignificant piece in this universe. Even when things become too much and we think the world is going to end if something doesn't go our way, it really doesn't matter if you look at it from your perspective..It's kind of nice." I reassured. He blushed slightly and looked out the window.