Larry sick fics

Louis hurt + Harry nightmare

A disgruntled noise escaped Harry's open mouth, a passive sound, like a  retort. Louis sighed, and continued to read. Sleep-talking wasn't out of the  ordinary for Harry. If anything, during the early hours of the morning when  sleep came lightly was the closest the two of them ever got to peace  and almost-quiet.

Louis poured themself into his book as Harry  stirred in his sleep. A decent night's rest came rarely to Harry, and Louis  was just glad that they were able to knock out at all. As for Louis, well,  sometimes the only thing that could still his mind was a good read.  Even though in the beginning he hated to even think about reading books but since Harry bought them some he just gave it a shot. There was something deeply relaxing about letting someone else's  thoughts float around your brain for a while. A welcomed break.

Just as Louis was starting to pick up his literary rhythm, Harry cried out in his sleep. A broken cry, followed by oddly guttural whimpering. Pain. Harry  was in pain. Louis leapt up from his seat just as Harry started thrashing,  jerky with night-terror, sweat beading through his cotton t-shirt.

Whack! 

Harry's wrist cracked into the headboard, animalistic, like he was trying to flee from something. Or someone.  In a desperate attempt to calm his boyfriend, Louis grabbed Harry's arms and pulled his struggling frame into an embrace. Harry's legs continued to  thrash, damn-near knocking the two of them out of bed.

"Darling!  Hey! Harry, wake up, you're having a nightmare-" Louis called out, and startled  to rub circles into Harry's tensing back. "Wake up! Please, it's okay,  you're safe. It's just  bad dream."

Harry's eyes jolt open. He sat bolt upright in bed. The sheets are tangled about him from where they've been flailing about in his sleep, lashing out at invisible enemies that haunt his dreams. Harry is crouched on the bed by his side,  holding up his hands hesitantly.

"Harry! Love! Hey, it's alright, it's me!"

"It was just a dream, Haz. I'm here."

Harry nods, his heart still pounding in his chest. His eyes scan the  room, slowly reminding themselves where he is, that he's safe and  none of it was real. He knocked the lamp off the bedside table,  again. Damn nightmares. He turns back to Louis and focus on him, staring  into his ocean blue eyes until he can convince himself to believe that he's  really there.

Slowly, Harry's adrenaline  fades and he emerged from sleep,  startled and his breathing still heavily. His  eyes were wild with lingering  terror, which slowly bled into  confusion. Then he notices it.

"Wait, what happened to your face? What's going on?"

Louis bows their head, hiding the dark bruise starting to blossom on his  cheekbone. "It's fine, it's nothing. It-it's not important."

A  cold realisation dawns on Harry. "I hit you." When he thought he was  fighting off his attackers. Louis was trying to wake him, trying to help him. And he punched him right in the face.

"It wasn't your fault, love." Louis murmurs. "I got too close."

Harry slowly reaches his hand up to touch Louis' cheek as he flinches. Guilt filling up his stomach.

"I-I..."

"It's okay love. You were having a nightmare, but you're safe." Louis soothed, holding Harry closely to his chest. Fingers carding through his curly hair.

"It felt so real this time."

"It's all right. It wasn't real, I promise you."

Ever since they were attacked by paparazzi that day Harry can't seem to have a decent sleep. In the dreams it just happens all over again, people shouthing at them, cursing at them, the screaming of the fans and above all the attack itself.

"...Okay." Harry sighed, and Louis could see the relief flooding to his face. Slowly, Harry's heartbeat slowed, breaths became more even, muscles loosened.

"Good." He holds Harry's hand tighter, though he doesn't let any pain  show on his face as he offers a distraction. "You want to watch a  movie?"

Harry always falls back asleep in the first ten minutes.  It just helps for Louis to sit up against the headboard, to hold Harry's  hand when his breaths hitch again in a near-sob, to huff at the dumb  opening scenes of whatever movie he let Harry pick. It helps somehow.

"Yeah. Okay," Harry answers, giving a determined nod. "'d like that."

Louis smiled, and curled up beside Harrry on the messy bedsheets, wrapping his arms protectively around his boyfriend, giving him a kiss on his forehead.