One Meaningless Promise

One Meaningless Promise~21

Is death supposed to hurt? Harry decides it's a good thing that he can at least feel pain. He supposes that means that he isn't all the way dead yet. He feels like there are heavy bricks laying on top of his chest, and with every passing moment, a brick is added and the suffocating feeling intensifies. He's being compressed, and the air is being forced from his lungs until there is barely any oxygen left in his body. His arms are tingling now, his legs are tingling. He can feel the tingles spiking down his limbs, through his fingers, over his chest. The muted cries in the back of his head continue. This isn't how he thought death would be.

Now he can feel the electricity crawling through his veins, and the noises are becoming more distinct. He can almost make out the words, and he can almost recognize that voice. Then, suddenly, the electricity sends a jolt through his body, and now he's not just seeing black, but he's seeing blue. The purest blue he's ever seen, the blue that he never wants to lose sight of again. Harry tries to blink, but his eyes stay shut when he closes them. The pain is coming back, his chest is clenching and his lungs are desperately pulsing with oxygen that isn't coming in. He grimaces as his ears ring painfully for a moment before he can finally hear the voice.

"Harry?" It's a sweet voice, a high voice but it's desperate and frantic, and Harry can hear that he's been crying. "Harry, love, c'mon," it says.

Harry opens his eyes.

"L-Louis...?" He tries to speak, but his throat is so raw that it comes out as a croaky whisper. It hurts, if hurts so bad.

But then he sees Louis' face, and the pain is almost forgotten. His caramel hair is tussled all around his face, pieces sticking in weird directions, his skin is pale and streaked with tear stains, there are bags under his eyes, and he looks like he's been through hell and back, but it's beautiful. Louis' hand grips his tightly and his head falls forward onto Harry's chest as a sob shakes his fragile body.

"My g-god, Harry," Louis hiccups, his voice muffled in Harry's shirt. "I-I thought you were... I t-thought..."

Harry slowly wraps his arms around Louis' shoulders and holds him closely as his body quakes with more sobs. He's too weak to say anything; his throat burns like it has been struck with a match until it caught fire.

"Y-you were gone f-for a whole three minutes," Louis gasps. "You a-almost..."

Harry moves his hand and Louis lifts his head, sniffing softly, his wet tears shining on his face. Harry softly touches Louis' cheekbone with his fingers, feeling the moisture on his fingertips. He watches as Louis' breath hitches in his throat, those blue eyes fluttering shut as a couple more tears slide down his cheeks. Harry's hand is squeezed harder.

"Harry...."

Harry pulls his hand away and stares up at Louis, who's eyes snap open like he just remembered something important.

"H-how are you feeling?" Louis asks, his expression gone serious.

"Hurts...." Harry croaks, wincing as pain shoots through his chest and throat.

"Oh, Harry," Louis says, his voice filled with concern as he reaches up to brush a lock of hair out of Harry's face.

"Don't do that again, please," Louis begs, tears springing in his eyes again.

Harry shakes his head and wipes away Louis' tears with his thumb. Louis climbs carefully into the hospital bed beside Harry, being careful not to touch him in any way that would hurt him, even though he isn't injured. Louis presses into Harry's side, burying his face in Harry's shoulder and sliding an arm around his torso. Harry can feel the wetness of Louis' tears through his shirt, but he just wraps his arm around the small boy and holds him close, trying not to think about the fact that he might never have gotten to touch Louis again. That night could've been the last time that Harry saw that beautiful face, that beautiful body. Those stunning, blue eyes and high cheekbones, the light hair that dusted over his forehead. His somewhat girly, but delectable curves and toned, muscly body, everything. It could've been the last time he heard that honey-sweet voice, the last time he saw that amazing, blindingly bright smile.

"I love you, Louis," Harry whispers, ignoring the pain in his throat because it is so important that Louis knows this.

What if Louis never got to know that Harry did, in fact, love him? What if Harry had died right then, and he hadn't had the chance to tell Louis that he loved him? Harry decides that as long as he should live, he will tell Louis how much he means to him, just in case it's the last time he'll ever be able to say it.

"I love you, too," Louis says softly. "Forever."

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"Wait, but when can he get out?" Louis questions, his eyes alight with an innocent curiousness.

He's been sitting here for the past two hours, cross legged on the hospital bed beside Harry, pestering whichever unlucky nurse or doctor that happened to stop in the room to take tests on Harry. The doctor, judging by his nametag, Dr. Hesslinger, had a bemused scowl on his face, his lips puckered with annoyance.

"Mr. Tomlinson, I believe that I've already answered you that question," Dr. Hesslinger scoffs as he scribbles notes on his clipboard.

"Yeah, I forgot," Louis says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

The doctor sighs. "As soon as all of the tests have been ran through, and the patient-"

"Harry."

Dr. Hesslinger glares at the smirking Louis. "As soon as Harry," he corrects himself hastily, "has been confirmed to be alright, you may be released from the hospital."

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