Mirrors (A Larry Stylinson Fanfic) NEWLY REVISED

Is This Love

NEW REVISED

Chapter Seven: Is This Love-James Arthur

Louis' POV

The changes I had begun to see in Harry these last three weeks were subtle, but they were there. It worried me what rewriting his past was doing to his future, but all that seemed to be changing was his behaviors and feelings towards me. I could tell by the way he'd become more comfortable around me, like we had been friends for years. Or the way he'd look at me when we'd talk through the mirror before bed at night. I was slowly starting to see him unwind and lose that protective shell that kept people away, afraid to let them too close. He seemed more at ease and carefree each time we spoke. I'd watch him throw his head back and laugh, and see the bright curiosity in his eyes. We had grown closer than I had expected, but there wasn't a day that went by that I didn't find myself learning something new about him. He was like this never ending mystery and I was getting a piece of a picture each day.

I could feel myself changing too. Harry made me different, a better person. Whether I was talking to him through the mirror, or hanging out with him after classes I found myself happier and eager to see him again. Going to lectures became less of a drag because I knew I'd see him throughout the day while on campus. Photography became more exciting, which I hadn't known was possible, because I was able to share my photos and experiences with Harry. At times there would be something I'd see that would remind me of him and I'd have to capture the image forever. The way this green eyed boy made me feel was something I had never experienced with anyone else. He calmed me, yet excited me at the same time. He made me feel accepted and safe. I could be myself with him without fear of judgement or criticism. Harry was the kindest soul I had ever met.

Everyday I was exposed to a new part of him and his quirks; like how he had an odd sense of humor and would make a fool out of himself just to see another person smile. Or how I'd catch him randomly singing to himself when he thought I wasn't paying attention. I remembered the first night I went to his dorm to hang out, I walked in on him dancing around the small space, too long limbs making his actions clumsy. He was far more than this quiet, thoughtful writer that I had first assumed him to be.

What took me by surprise over these week was the realization that I was beginning to fall for him. This beautiful, kindhearted, goofy boy was slowly capturing every piece of my heart and I couldn't stop it. As much as I tried to convince myself that I shouldn't be feeling this way towards him, it was out of my control. I knew that my fate was still to be determined, and December 21 was quickly approaching, but Harry made all of that seem insignificant. All I wanted was to be near him and his gentle soul. Right now nothing else mattered but the way he made me feel. I was eager to find out how Harry felt. I could tell that something was there, but I wasn't sure how far those feelings were.

While we had spent several days and nights together, nothing had been official. We usually spent time in his dorm where I'd listen to him brainstorm about his English assignments, or he'd help me edit my photographs for upcoming showcases. There were days where we would have lunch together between classes, and weekends where I'd spend the night and we'd go out and spoil ourselves with breakfast before walking around town looking for images to capture. Everything was so simple and relaxed that being with him became second nature. Even talking to Harry back through the mirror suddenly became an everyday routine. What was once an impossible reality to try to accept, was now an act of normalcy to us.

Harry would explain to me the new memories that would flash through his mind everyday. I was worried that they were affecting his life, but he assured me that wasn't the case. He said they would randomly hit him, the feeling exactly like if he was remembering a normal memory from his childhood or college years. The thing that made the memory different was that he had actually never experienced them before that moment. We would sit there at night and reminisce, reflecting on the moments we shared together. He'd laugh at the memories of us getting kicked out of the art exhibit I was supposed to be surveying, for being too loud. I'd watch as his eyes would go soft while he talked about the nights where we would sit on his bed while he read and I pretended to pay attention to the show on TV. Somehow we always ended up pressed close to one another's sides, not realizing until I could feel the warmth of his body against mine, almost like an electricity between us.