[unedited]
[Harry]
I don't feel any pain but a tremendous fatigue, as I haven't slept during one week. My heads is heavy. My mind isn't clear. It races and throbs like the most terrible kind of fever and I'm unaware of thinking properly.
Is this the after life?
Is this the death?
It can't be. Death isn't supposed be the end? As being no longer aware of everything? This is not the end. Air is coming into my lungs. My heart is beating. Slowly but it beats. I feel it.
There is a change in the murk before my eyes. A lightness. Not strong. Just a poor lightness which comes through the line of my eyes.
I wish I could open my eyes. But it takes too much energy. So I let them close.
The world is so silent. There is a barrier between me and the rest of the world, and I think that maybe the world has never wanted me and now it's an opportunity to get rid of me.
But maybe not. My thoughts are being clearer. I'm passably conscious, not asleep but not awake either. As if disconnected from everything, unable to move, or speak, able to register and... Exist.
It's cold. I'm cold. I'm tired.
I wait. I wait for something to happen. Death or life. I don't care. I just want something to happen.
An amount of time passes. A second, a minute, maybe an hour, there is no way I can know. But it's horrible. It's worse than being ill. I don't know what I have but I want it to go away.
My thoughts center on where I am. My eyes are still close but I'm sure that I'm pressed against something solid. Describe it is impossible right now, but it isn't uncomfortable. It's not comfy either.
I hover around my thoughts for and indeterminate time, letting me connect to my own body, to my state...
The word drug suddenly flash deep inside me. I don't know how but it comes. My heart begins to beat faster and this sudden rush gives me energy to open my eyes.
This isn't a dream. I'm not dead. But I'm not safe either. I look around searching for only a little thing I might know or recognize. Nothing.
I'm in a house. I'm in a house I don't know. I'm in a stranger house. On the floor. On a cold floor.
I can barely see in which room I am because the tiny lamp that lights me is ridiculous. It illuminates only a meter away.
There is only one thing I can do. Listen. I listen. But I can't hear anything. I wait for a moment. And for another moment. My eyelids are heavy and force to close my eyes again. I can't listen and observe at the same time. I'm too weak for that.
I concentrate one the listening. There is only my own breathing.
I'm tired now. I'm so tired.
The light is no more here. The dark takes the place completely, me with it.
-------------
I'm moving. But I don't know how. Air is caressing my skin and gives me goosebumps. I hear steps, heavy steps.
I'm not walking...
The noises of the steps on the floor don't fade. It's the same intensity each time. Someone is carrying me. Now that I realize this, it seems obvious. I feel the two arms that are supporting my weight. One under my knees, the other in the middle of my back.
Where are we going?
Where am I?
What is going on?
My mind isn't as blurry as when I fell asleep. How long did I sleep? I don't know. I don't know what time is it. I don't know which day is it. I'm scared. Scared because I don't know who is carrying me. I don't have a clue. Is it a bad person or someone I know? Is it the psychopath? No... It can't be. No. He wouldn't carrying me. He would kill me without any hesitation. Or... Or he's playing with me. Playing with my feelings. He lets me think I'm going to live just to let me hope and then-
No. No one is that mad.
But the person who's carrying me must be a man. Or at least a very very strong woman. Because I'm not light and passably tall.
And I'm scared because even if it's a man who is going to kill me I can't defend myself. I can't.
If my mind is getting better, my body isn't. I still can't move. Just a finger on my right hand. The rest of my body is still paralyzed and it scared me to death. To death... How funny...
Maybe I'll stay like this for the rest or my life... If I'm still going to have a life.
Theses thoughts don't answer the question of who is carrying me. I want to know but...
I'm tired.
I don't want to be but I am...
And the sleep takes me away... Again.
-------------
Someone is calling me. A voice is calling me. A manly voice. A beautiful voice. I know this voice. I want to se to who this voice belongs.
I open my eyes, slowly. It hurts. The light burns them. I close them again. The dazzle is to strong.
Oh.
I'm thirsty. How long did I spend without drinking?
The same someone who called me a few seconds before is stroking my hair, gently, with a hand while the other is holding my hand. It feels good. I feel good. It feels right. I feel safe. I shouldn't be. I don't who it is. But I feel safe.
"Harry?"
Yes is the answer I want to say. Nothing comes out of my mouth. Not even this word. The only thing I can produce is a little groan and I thing it's to soft to every human being to hear it. My throat hurts more that I expected.
"Harry, i-if you hear me, please squeeze my hand or... Open you eyes. Please. Please..."
Niall. This is Niall. This is Niall's voice. He is the someone. He is my someone.
But his voice seems off. It doesn't sound like him. It's full of pain, of sadness. Why would he be sad? I don't want him to be.
He is repeating the word please again and again. Every time more softly. Every time with more pain in his tone.
Is he hurt?
Is it my fault?
I take all the strength I'm able to give and squeeze his hand. Then, with a lot of effort, I open my eyes. After a while which seems interminable for me, I meet his beautiful blue one. They aren't as beautiful as usually. If his voice seemed off, his eyes are even more. It's like he didn't have slept in weeks. And that he has been crying for a long time. Crying... Niall is crying.
Why?
He is so beautiful. Even if tears are rushing down his cheeks. Even if his hairs are messy. Even if he isn't smiling. Even if the blue of his eyes isn't as lightly as normally. Even if... Even if. This man has to be a son of a god. This man has to be a dream. He is a dream. Mine.
I'm maybe looking at me and he maybe has his eyes on me, he doesn't see me. As he didn't notice I just did what he asked me to do. So I squeeze his hand again and I try to do it stronger.
His eyes get wide. And now he is really looking at me. He felt it. I thought he would be happy. But he begins to sob uncontrollably. His hands that were stroking my hair or holding mine are now hiding his face. He is trembling from up to down, violently.
I want to reach his face with my hand and wipe his tears but I can't.
"I thought I came to late... I thought I lost you..." He mumbles.
He grabs my hand and kisses the top of it, leaving me dazed. My heart is beating so fast I'm scared it will stop. I feel his tears landing on my skin.
Wait.
It has to be a dream. This isn't happening right now. The drugs must still have effects on me. It can't be real. This isn't Niall. This isn't him.
My heart aches. This is the most hurtful effect that I'm living. This is the worst feeling ever. To know that your mind is playing with your emotions. To know that what you're dreaming of since a while just happened but that is just a trick of your imagination. And that all of this feel so real. It hurts. It hurts a lot. It hurts so much that even the tears are not coming.
I close my eyes again, repeating in my mind that's not true. That all of this isn't real.
"Harry."
No. Stop it. I can't handle this anymore. His voice is killing me. Everything about him is killing me. Please leave me alone. Please leave me. I don't want to feel this pain anymore. I can't. It's too much. The death seems paradise next to it.
"STOP ! T-this isn't real. This isn't REAL! S-stop it!" I yell. My voice cracked at the end. And my throat is burning like hell. But it's nothing comparing to what my heart is doing to me.
"Harry! Harry! I'm real. This is real! I'm really here." my imagination continues to play with me.
No. Nothing of this is real. Nothing.
"Y-you're n-not!"
"I am, Harry! I am!"
Prove it. Prove it. He can't because he's not really here. It's only a hallucination. He is not real. It just my imagina-
"I'm real." He says quietly. So quietly that my eyes open to see if he's disappearing. Niall's image is still next to me.
And this is when I feel his two hand cupping my face. His blue eyes are meeting mine. And I'm loosing myself in them.
"It's real."
He presses his lips against mine. His lips. His fucking lips. He is kissing me. Him.
Is it fake?
Is it real?
The only thing I surely know is that my body is waking up.
And that his lips are still on mine.
That's it...
I'm not really sure about this chapter... Please tell me what you think of :)
Sorry again for the grammatical errors...
Hope you guys like it anyway!
I will try to update the next chapter soon.
Comment and vote if you want.
xx