Guns & Roses (Larry Stylinson)

Late Nights

Hello! This story is going to take another turn soon, so buckle up! However, this chapter is safe, but does deal with serious issues.

WARNING: Mentions of depression, suicidal thoughts, self-harm, brief mentions of domestic abuse, and hints at sexual abuse as well. Please read carefully and skip if you need to! I am always here to talk if you want to rant or couldn't read the chapter and wish to know what else happened. It's completely fine with me, loves.

Thank you all so much for the constant dedication and lovely comments. I love reading and replying to as many as I can.

Now, enjoy your update!

Chapter 44:

    I shut the door to the bedroom after checking up on Niall, making sure he was situated. He talked to me a bit about how he was going to fuck up the other gang for the shit they put him through. I hoped we would get the opportunity. As of right now, however, we were both too fucked up to do much.

    Harry made the decision that Niall should get the bed. He was in terrible condition, and I had no qualms about sleeping with Harry on the sofa. It might be a bit cramped, but I'd rather stay beside him than sleep beside Niall and constantly worry about him through the night.

   I walked back to the living room, going to just sit beside the sofa for most of the night and think about some type of plan on what to do once we get back to base. What would we do against Plague's gang then?

  Instead, my plans were put on hold as I saw Harry sitting on the sofa, knees pulled to his chest as he cried softly in the darkness of the room. The lanterns illuminated part of his face, highlighting the wetness on his cheek while the other half of his face was lingering in the shadows. And everytime the lantern flames flickered, it was as if he was fighting the darkness from fully taking over.

   I didn't say a word. Instead, I walked over to the sofa and sat beside Harry, wiping off the tears from his cheeks as he looked over at me. Then, I pulled him into my arms and pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck. I could feel him shake and shudder in my arms as silent sobs surfaced from deep within.

   It was so much agony, and it stabbed worse than any physical pain I've ever felt. I felt useless as I held Harry.

   I knew there was nothing I could do because the pain wasn't external.

  "I'm sorry," Harry cried out in a whisper. I shook my head automatically.

   "You have nothing to be sorry for, love. Absolutely nothing."

   "I can't... I just... I- I-" He tried to speak. I knew that I would never understand how deep Harry's sorrow was rooted. I would never be able to know exactly what he was feeling because they were his emotions to feel. I could think about my own lows, but the two weren't comparable. I knew that everyone's pain was different, even if it stemmed from similar roots.

   Like a flower.

  "You can tell me anything, Harry, but you never have to share if you don't want to. I'll still be here to hold you through it," I vowed, feeling his hands clutch onto my arms.

   His back was pressed against my chest, and I rocked our bodies side to side, trying to soothe him in any way possible. Seeing him cry, seeing him ache, seeing him succumb to the dangers of his mind, it was horrible to witness. It felt like sinning to not be able to help him.

   "I can't sleep," He admitted. "I'm afraid of the nightmares that will come. I'm afraid of the reality we're in. What if I wake up, and you're being hurt or you disappeared? What if they come for us in our sleep, when we're least prepared? What if the nightmares take over, and I can't seem to shut them off?" The tears were falling faster now. I felt his teardrops on my arms. They were the gentlest of raindrops.