Imprisoned In My Heart: A Larry Stylinson Fanfic

24.

Thankfully, after that, things started amazingly going back to the way they had been – except, of course, Harry and Louis were closer than they ever had been before. Louis went back to work, and was distracted for another week or so, leaving every day in a rush to come and see Harry. Prison guards and governors and various other authorities popped in and out of the ward Harry was placed on, talking to him and giving him this, that and the other to sign, and he wrote his name on every single bit of paper they shoved at him.

One evening, Louis came into the hospital for five minutes, just to say goodnight – and Harry threw his arms around Louis’ neck and told him delightedly that he was being moved back to Stonehaven. Louis started crying – although he insisted that he’d ‘poked himself in the eye’ – and walked around with both eyes streaming and a huge grin on his face for the rest of the day.

Another four days passed, and then the van was sent to the hospital, and Harry was discharged. Before they knew it, he was being welcomed back to Stonehaven like a hero, applauded by every single prisoner as he struggled in on his crutches, and nobody clapped louder than Louis, whose hands ended up bright red because he clapped so hard. Then, Louis whisked Harry off to his office ‘for a chat’ and for the next hour, they did all manner of things that a psychiatrist should definitely not have been doing to his patient. The session ended with Louis dramatically uncovering Harry’s chair, and Harry curled up in it with a smile on his face that couldn’t have been any bigger, or any more genuine.

Harry was locked in various meetings for a week or so, which he complained were boring and monotonous, and Louis attempted to gain access on the pretence of believing Harry ought to have someone there in case his mental health deteriorated from stress. It was a pretty weak excuse, and nobody bought it, so Harry ended up going to each one on his own – although after each meeting he told Louis in relief that ‘It was so boring, you would have fallen asleep!’ and Louis wondered if maybe Harry hadn’t wanted him to come. He stopped thinking about it after a while. Why should it matter? He wasn’t exactly thrilled by the idea of sitting in a musty room listening to prison officials talk to Harry.

At home he was far more cheerful as well; Jay noticed and commented on his sudden mood lift, and when he went out one Friday night with Stan and Hannah, they also spotted the grin that never left his face and how he almost seemed to bounce with happiness, and he was subjected to a very long interrogation about what exactly had he been doing – and had he been messing around with that prison guy he’d been talking about? Louis smiled angelically and said nothing, but he was so excited that he acted drunk before he’d had even a tiny bit of alcohol, so that when he actually got drunk he was so intoxicated that he sat laughing at absolutely nothing for a whole twenty minutes, and Jay had to come and pick him up from the pub and put him to bed before he laughed so much that he made himself sick.

Nobody complained about his mood, although Harry did tease him several times that if he didn’t stop bouncing around, he would go through the roof. That amused the giddy Louis endlessly, and he couldn’t stop laughing about it – until Harry tutted and kissed him, hard, just to shut him up.

The kisses were yet another thing that Louis could never get enough of. The two of them spent ridiculous amounts of time in the office, just kissing, because they were pretty sure it was about time they caught up on everything they’d missed out on. Sometimes they completely  lost track of time and resurfaced to find that hours had passed; other times they only spent a minute lost in passion and the rest of the time just talking. Louis had missed their talks more than anything, and they made up for it by determinedly not shutting up until there was a line of impatient prisoners banging on the door waiting for their turn with the psychiatrist. It was quite ironic, really, that so many people were stood outside yelling, and yet they didn’t realize that right behind the door, Harry and Louis were cheerfully kissing until they were both almost incoherent. It was still most definitely illegal, immoral and dangerous, if they were caught, but neither of them could bring themselves to care about that any more.

At one point, they slept together, quite literally; one minute Harry was sat in his chair, and then Louis was wriggling in beside him, stroking his face almost without thinking, and smiling at him with an expression of adoration on his face that was almost frightening; it would have been scary if Harry hadn’t felt exactly the same. They had talked quietly for a while about very little, until Harry’s murmurs became Louis’ lullaby, soothing him to sleep so that his head lolled against Harry’s shoulder and he drooped, falling unconscious underneath the arm that Harry had lazily thrown around his shoulder. Eventually, the soft sounds of his breathing had lulled Harry to sleep as well – the insistent buzz  of Louis’ timer had awoken them, along with loud bashing on the door, and they had both stiffly clambered out of the chair with irremovable smiles on their faces, their bond closer than ever before.

The fact that something as small and simple as that could make them so happy was proof enough for Louis that their relationship could last.

It was unspoken between them that they would stay together now; even Harry had stopped doubting it. They had to restrain things slightly, of course; certain things would be beyond them as long as they both had to stay in the building. Louis had been making plans at the back of his mind, and he was pretty sure that if they could last the five, or even ten, years that Harry might still have to stay here, then marriage would obviously be their next option, and although he didn’t start wearing a chastity ring, it occurred to him that in a way, he was choosing not to have sex before marriage. The idea pleased him, somehow; he’d always thought it was sweet to be a virgin on your wedding night, even though he’d never thought about the possibility of marrying anyone at all. He didn’t know whether Harry had ever been with anyone before him, nor did he care. All he knew was that on their wedding day, they could head off to the honeymoon to consummate the marriage, and make that day the best of their lives in more ways than one.

He didn’t discuss it with Harry, but it seemed to him like the most sensible option. Planning the wedding ten years in advance also would have seemed a ludicrous idea to some, but Louis was so certain that it would happen that he thought he might as well be prepared – after all, after ten years, he’d be pretty eager to whisk Harry away to America as quickly as possible, where he knew gay marriage was legalized in some states. He didn’t want a civil partnership; he wanted a marriage, a true joining of hands and hearts, so that Harry could truly belong to him. Saying “this is my partner” would never be enough for Louis. One day, he wanted to be able to say “this is my husband”, and anyone who didn’t like it could – well, he wouldn’t spoil the thought by grimly thinking about what they could do. Suffice to say it wasn’t printable.

He had his doubts, of course; remembering his mother’s initial reaction when he had first mentionedtalking to Harry, he was anxious that she would be less than enthusiastic about his relationship choice. Still, she was his mum, and if she didn’t respect his decisions, she would just have to live with not seeing him until she had. To accept him was to accept his choices, and that was something he’d always stood by. On his very first date, when he was just fifteen, he had made it clear that she would abide by his decisions and not try to change him – and true to her word, when he had brought a boy from school home with him, she hadn’t protested at all. Louis had loved her for accepting him how he was, and he hoped she could remain as impartial as she always had. If not…he would learn to live with it. Louis had always been stubborn; he was confident he could last longer than she could.

He wasn’t remotely bothered about Harry’s mum, who he knew Harry adored. From the sound of her, Anne seemed sweet and far less hotheaded than Jay. Louis knew his mother could be impulsive sometimes, whereas Anne sounded…not more reliable, but quieter, somehow, more accepting. According to Harry, anyway. Despite having never met the woman, Louis was sure he would get along with her. The idea of meeting Harry’s sister Gemma didn’t faze him either; he was fairly sure he could talk her around if she didn’t take a shine to him at first, and from the sounds of it, Harry didn’t seem to have considered the possibility that any member of his family would dislike Louis. It was a relief to think that he might fit in perfectly with Harry’s family – it only made him feel guilty that his own mother was unlikely to be as tolerant.

He could wait, and he would…but he wistfully dreamed of the day when the two of them could finally escape Stonehaven, and then Louis could meet the people who had brought up the boy he cared for most in the world. Then, he would join their family, and hopefully they would accept him – and then all of them could focus on revolving around Harry, the only corresponding factor in their world, and the one thing they all loved with all their hearts.