"Stay," Harry whispers desperately, pressing his lips to Louis' temple like he can somehow ease the pain that's blooming there, but he can't make the pain stop and no matter how hard he tries he can't make Louis stay.
-
{not my story}
COMPLETED
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
•••
It's footsteps coming down the hall and the giddy, nervous feeling he gets around Harry even after all this time and he's expecting Harry to chuckle something like You're ridiculous and maybe fuck him against the wall if he's lucky, which he almost always is.
Except not this time, because Harry's eyes are warm and friendly but upon further inspection go wide with what Louis identifies as panic; later, he realizes maybe it was fear.
"Lou!" And just like that Harry is across the room, yanking him away from the stove and shoving his left hand under the tap, and, oh. The skin of his palm is puckered and colored an angry pink. That's usually a thing somebody would notice, Louis notes mentally, pursing his lips with his brow furrowing in confusion. Even now, it should hurt, but it doesn't. Not really. A little bit, but the pain is so distant it's hard to tell if it even belongs to him.
Harry is quiet as he holds Louis' hand under the water for what seems like days but is most likely just a few minutes, eyes downcast and this stupid look of concern on his face that kind of makes Louis want to cry but all he can do it stare at his rapidly reddening hand and wonder why he didn't feel it — surely he should have felt something, right? It's surprising, because Louis certainly isn't known for his high pain tolerance and even someone like Harry who could probably be whipped across his bare back and tread on with his tongue between his teeth would surely notice something like that.
After a few minutes, Harry turns off the tap. "Stay here," he instructs Louis, voice soft but firm, and the second he leaves the room Louis has his back pressed against the cabinets, feeling his legs give out as he sinks to the tile, staring in awe at the blistering burn on his hand. This is a dream. It has to be a dream. He doesn't know what's happening and he's not so much afraid as he is completely bewildered. It feels suddenly like he's trying to look at the world through a haze.
Harry returns holding gauze bandages that Louis didn't even know they had, but with a tiny smirk on his face he realizes Harry must have an entire first aid kit stashed somewhere, just in case. He's painfully gentle, crouching down and wrapping around the burn gently, from Louis' wrist to his knuckles, secure but not tight enough to irritate the skin there. Once he's done, he cuts off the excess and places it on the counter, eyes still trained on Louis' face.
"Why did you do that?" he asks simply, voice less suspicious and more concerned.
Louis frowns, blinking at him. "Do what?"
"You burned yourself, love."
"Oh," Louis laughs a little, trying to lighten the mood because Harry thinks he did it on purpose.
"No, I just...didn't notice."
Harry cocks his head a little, clearly confused. "What do you mean you didn't notice?"
Louis doesn't know how to explain, because the more he thinks about it the crazier it sounds. "I didn't notice. I didn't feel it. I didn't even realize it was happening until you pulled me away." He chews his lip, and as he watches Harry's face darken, he almost wishes he had done it on purpose.
