Harry Styles is a sensible, responsible man.
Louis Tomlinson is a rude, disobedient boy.
What happens when Louis' mother is fed up with his behavior and calls the only person she can think to call, her old friend Harry Styles.
Can Louis trust Harry...
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Louis' POV:
"You're okay. It's alright."
I looked around, completely disoriented in the pitch black. My chest was rising and falling quickly and each breath painfully tightened my chest.
I was sitting up on my bed in the dark. I don't remember sitting up. I don't even remember waking up.
"You're safe. It was a dream. It's over now." I heard Harry's voice in the dark. It was raspy, he sounded half asleep.
My shoulders collapsed in relief. Harry was there.
The memories started coming back to me. I asked to sleep in his room. I wasn't alone.
I jumped a bit when I felt his hand on my back, rubbing up to my shoulder comfortingly. I brought my hands to my face. My forehead was sweaty and I felt a cold chill run down my spine.
I forced myself to remember Harry's words and breathe. I took a few deep breaths, Harry silently rubbing my shoulder as I did.
I was incredibly relieved I spent the night in Harry's room. I didn't want to do this alone anymore.
I couldn't remember the dream—if you could even call whatever made me panic so much a dream.
"Fuck, sorry. I'm okay." I whispered, threading my fingers through my hair and pulling lightly on the ends.
"No need to be sorry, darling." He rasped, his voice thick as if still coming out of a deep sleep. "You sure you're alright? You didn't sound alright." He sounded worried.
"Didn't sound alright?" I echoed softly, confused at his wording.
"You shouted when you woke up... do you not remember?" He spoke hesitantly.
"No." I sighed shakily. "I don't remember any of it."
"That's good. Probably better that way." He commented, gradually becoming more alert, although his voice was still deeper than normal.
He was right. The nightmares I couldn't remember were infinitely better than those that would haunt me and keep me awake for the rest of the night. I would take the discomfort of hardly being able to breathe and being extremely overheated over those thoughts any day.
I finally glanced to Harry after my eyes adjusted more. I could faintly see him in the dark room, sitting up in bed next to me.
