Your eyes keep pulling me in. - WOLVES
Harry hadn't moved for thirty minutes or more.
Neither did Louis.
They were just there, breathing.
"How was the taste?"
"Sweet... the smell too, somehow."
"And what do you remember?"
Harry paused. He tightened his arms around Louis and buried his face in his belly. The curls were wet, but Louis didn't care that they had soaked his sweater.
"Her smile," he took a deep breath, then sniffed. "She had not smiled for a long time."
"What was her smile?"
Harry was slow to reply. Louis looked up, waiting and feeling. Feeling the hands of Harry leaning against his back, feeling his weight on his body.
"People say it looked like mine," he replied, and his voice trailed off. He cried again. "But... but I don't know."
Louis didn't answer. He had no answer. How could a person who suffered a loss should be comforted? And such a loss? Louis didn't know what to do. He have never felt anything like that before.
"Where do you think she is?" Harry asked, after sniffing. The voice barely came out. He lifted his head and pressed his chin to Louis' stomach, where the rib began.
Louis looked at him. He wanted to touch Harry's hair.
"I'm sure in a very special place," he replied. Harry's face was so close he could see the red along with the green in his eyes.
"She deserves it," Harry buried his face in Louis's belly again.
He was not as uncomfortable as he looked. Louis had patience all the time. Drying Harry, dressing him and answering questions about life after death. Never, ever did he imagine that he could see Harry that way, but he was human after all.
Harry was so...
"Harry," Louis called out. He raised his hand and was almost touching his hair... almost.
He sniffed in response, and rubbed his cheek in Louis' sweater. His arms were still tight around his body.
"Harry," he called again. "go sleep a bit."
But he was silent.
"Come here, Harry," he pulled him by the shoulders, and made him lay his head on the pillow. "Sleep."
Harry grumbled. Louis felt cold after Harry stepped out of his lap, but it was time for him to sleep or settle down. If he stayed awake, he would never stop crying, and he looked so tired it would be easy.
He leaned his head against the pillow and closed his eyes. He grunted before he lay on his stomach, hiding his hands inside his chest.
"I think I can't sleep," the voice came out muffled, almost like a moan.
Louis looked at him. His hair was very messy and fell off the pillow.
"Close your eyes and try not to think about anything, sometimes it works."
Harry was silent for a few seconds.
"Continue."
"Continue what?"
"Keep talking."
"Talking what?"
"Anything."
Louis looked at the ceiling.
"Well..." he took a deep breath. "Look, when you say to do something that you do naturally, it's complicated, I have nothing to say right now. It's hard."
"You're already talking," Harry said, his voice almost inaudible with his face buried in the pillow.
"All right, all right" Louis swallowed. Talk to him... think of anything. Invent. He needs. Do it. Do it. "Hm... do you know how long a star lives? Probably," he felt Harry's body there, breathing, heart pounding. He was so close. "You seem to know everything"
Harry made a strange noise, but didn't move. Louis decided to read. Quickly, he pulled out his backpack and pulled out the biology book. Harry adored biology, and if he wanted Louis to talk, he would listen about biology.
"Organic matter," Louis cleared his throat. "produced in the leaves, the source of production, must be distributed to the parts of the plant that do not make photosynthesis, which is carried out by the phloem. The sucrose is then absorbed by... "
And Louis read three topics. All about plant physiology. He hated it all.
When he stopped reading, Harry didn't move. He did nothing to show that he was awake; his face on the pillow didn't let Louis see his face.
And then he didn't know what else to do.
Louis was full of questions in his head.
Why did Harry call him when his grandmother died? Was there no other person? And William? Fuck, did William even care?
He rose from the bed, very slowly, as if Harry were a baby who couldn't wake up, otherwise he would cry all night. He changed his sweater, taking the other still wet because the wet hair. He went downstairs and saw that the hall was soaked.
He dried the hall, the staircase and the upper corridor, all with the least possible noise. He wouldn't know what to do if Harry woke up. What if he had started to cry again? What if his parents heard him when they came back? Louis would lock Harry in the closet if he had to.
He climbed into the bedroom. He still had to dry the bathroom. He took a squeegee up there to draw the water. As he crossed the room, Harry slept in the same position, nor had he moved. Louis thought of the wet pillow beneath his head. He would have a cold, but he could not wake him now.
He closed the bathroom door, and began to pull the puddles of water, but he heard a vibration. Then another and another. In the corner, next to the toilet, a black cell phone vibrated. Louis stared as if it were something from another world. Was that Harry's?
He picked it up, and it was wet. He didn't even know how it was still working. And still vibrating. It was so loud it seemed to scream. He would not answer, of course not. No one could know that Harry was here.
But when she saw the word Mother shining on the screen, he thought twice.
He imagined a woman, whoever she was, desperate. Was it her mother who died?
Then it stopped vibrating.
And then Louis went back to dry the bathroom, trying to throw those thoughts away. Harry had taken too much of his ability to figure things out.
The phone vibrated again. And he wanted to ignore it. It was just ignore.
But there was a mother there. And it seemed like she was screaming. Vibrating for news.
He took the cell phone. He wiped it dry, then accepted the call.
"Hello?"
"Harry?" A woman shouted. "Harry, tell me where you are..."
"N-it's not Harry," Louis cut her off, then took a deep breath.
"What? Where Harry is..."
"Harry is sleeping," Louis replied. "I'm Louis."
The woman was silent.
"Are you his boyfriend?" He spoke again. "I knew he was hiding something from me." What?
What?
Louis opened his mouth, but she cut him off.
"Oh God, Louis," she sniffed. "Is he in your house? Tell me he's okay, please."
"He's in my house, sleeping..." he replied. His face began to heat. What a lie. "He was very... shaken," the woman cried again, and Louis didn't know what else to do. "I'm so sorry"
Harry's mother was crying, and Louis almost did the same. He would not know what to do if that happened to him. If his granny died.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry, Louis," he heard her breathe deeply and let the air out of her mouth. "Poor way to meet, but know that I really liked you," Louis tried to speak, but the woman continued. "Thank you for taking care of him. Thank you."
And she was silent. It was time for Louis to speak. It was time for him to say that he was not Harry's boyfriend, it was time to say she couldn't like him.
But he didn't.
Louis didn't wanted to say. He wanted Harry's mother to think her son was safe, secure with someone she could trust.
"Y-you're welcome," Louis murmured. He felt his hands tremble. "I'm so sorry"
And they hung up.
Louis did not deny it or say it. He had done a big, big shit.
-------------
"Louis?"
"I'm here."
Harry sit on the bed, on his knees. When he saw Louis sitting on the floor, facing the bed, laid down again. He pulled the sheet until his chin was hidden.
"What time is it?"
"Half nine", Louis answered.
Harry stayed quiet, but awake. Louis was almost praying so that he would not start crying. There was a lot to ask. He had to have Harry sane, not what he was being.
I just didn't know how to start.
Louis got up from the floor, and stopped in front of the bed. Harry stared at him, hunched over in the covers. And it was Louis' blankets. In Louis' bed. In Louis' room. Louis' life.
"Your mother called," Louis said and Harry continued to stare. Just looking, did nothing. "She was worried."
He didn't move.
"I don't understand you," Louis folded his arms, taking courage. "I don't understand why you came here, why you did this to me... And you still lie too much."
He didn't move again.
Louis took another step forward and sat on the edge of the bed.
"Can you answer me some questions?" Louis asked, and Harry didn't do anything agaib. He kept looking.
"Why did you decide to come here after you heard what happened?"
They kept looking, and Harry didn't answer.
"Why do you lie all the time?" Louis uncrossed his arms. "Did you know that your mother thinks I'm your boyfriend? And you didn't even tell her about...", but Louis stopped talking.
Harry didn't tell his mother about William. His mother didn't even know his son was dating.
Jesus.
Last Christmas, William spent the day - which was the twins' birthday - with Harry. He said he'd gone with Harry to his house. And if he went to his house, he certainly knew the family. But he didn't. William lied. And it was this Christmas when he betrayed Harry with Johan. William was very son of a bitch.
"You..." Louis spoke again. Harry was still looking down at him. "Have you taken William to your house?"
It was hard for Louis to talk about William with Harry. It was weird.
Harry shook his head, and Louis almost laughed. William was worse than he thought.
Louis passed over Harry's legs, and threw himself on the other side of the bed. The other continued to stare at him, only his eyes out of the covers. Louis' head was still full of questions, full of things about Harry and William. What a lie among them...
Harry coughed.
"Are you okay?" That stupid question. God, of course he was not well.
He didn't answer. Louis sat on the bed and leaned toward Harry. He put his hand on his forehead, and it was warm.
"I think you have a fever," he said. Louis had no idea if he was too strong or weak, but he knew he was warmer than usual. What was he going to do with Harry? Soon his parents would come home, and he was sick here. "I read somewhere that it's good to take a warm bath for fever."
Louis didn't know what to do right. He never took care of a sick person, and Harry seemed to be too sly. There was still a lot to be cleared up, but Harry's mentality and health weren't good.
"I'll make you take a bath..." Louis couldn't finish talking.
Harry pulled him by the arm, and made him lie down on the bed again.
"I'm fine," he said, his hands boiling in Louis' arms.
Louis looked at him. He looked tired, but he certainly would not get out of bed.
"Fine," Louis replied.
Harry's hand was still gripping his arm, and it did not loosen. And Louis didn't complain when he got closer and laid his head on his shoulder. Or when he wrapped his arms around Louis' arm.
He could not complain because, after all, he liked it.
---------
sorry for my bad english ♡.