Larry Rewrites

Eventually We Find Our Way

Summary: Harry wakes up a few days after the zombie apocalypse and Louis is nowhere to be found.

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Chapter Text

Day 2

Harry wakes up, feeling groggier than he normally would. He tries to part his lips to let out a tired groan but his mouth is much too dry. He blinks his eyes several times but each blink brings him no closer to seeing light. "Turn the light on you morons" he calls out, his voice scratchy and he has never felt this thirsty before in his whole life. No one replies and he strains his ears to hear anything in this dark room. He hears distant screaming. Must be the fans he thinks and opens his mouth again to call out for one of the boys to turn the damn light on. That is when he feels a clammy hand fasten around his mouth and a hard object hitting his head, knocking him out before he can even struggle.

Day 5

The screaming has stopped but the darkness remains. Harry is no longer certain he is amongst his friends and is sitting as still as he possibly can, hardly daring to breath with his arms wrapped tightly around his head. He has worried himself sick trying to think about what could possibly be going on but nothing rational comes to mind. He refuses to think about where anyone else is and focuses solely on catching his own breath. I just want a fucking drink, one drink.

He hears a sudden movement to his left and clenches his whole body until he feels as stiff as a board. He curses at his own hands as they begin to tremble.

Such big hands Harry, I could find good use for them

"Harry?"

Harry is sure the second voice is also a flashback and remains silent.

"Harry?" the voice hisses again, piercing the air, the sound louder to Harry now than any thunder storm he has ever endured. It is familiar, an Irish voice, a friendly voice now riddled with fear.

"Niall?" Harry dares to reply and hears a tremendous sigh of relief and what sounds and feels like a body slumping next to him.

"Thank God, I was starting to worry that thump I gave you actually killed you" he hears Niall trying to joke but his tone falls flat, his worry clear even in the dark.

"That was you?" Harry whispers incredulously. He feels Niall cringe into himself.

"Sorry but I thought you were going to panic and draw attention to us, I had no other choice"

Draw attention? When has that ever been a bad thing for them? What the hell is going on?

"Niall, what-"

He feels Niall's hand over his mouth and stops short, listens as a sudden thump echoes around them. Harry's sure his heartbeat is louder than the thumping, coming from up above them. It stops after a few minutes and seems to move off into the distance. Harry turns to look at Niall but the place is still so fucking dark.

He hears a scratching noise and suddenly the distance between Harry and Niall is lit by a tiny match in Niall's hand. Niall looks awful; Harry almost reels back at the shock of seeing him. His skin is smeared with dirt, he looks ten years older, worry etched all across his usually glowing face. Niall moves his hand across the room, lighting it up and checking each corner hurriedly. When he is certain the coast is clear he reaches for something at his feet and switches on a large torch, lighting most of the room.

Afraid to speak, Harry takes in his surroundings. He is in what appears to be a shelter of some sort. The wall in front of him is covered with large shelves with various items scattered across each one. There is a variety of tinned food and tools, things useful for such events as a bomb scare or a bad storm.