Until we find the light (Larry Stylinson)

Until we find the light

"I only feel beautiful when I'm hungry."

THE DAY BEGINS with begging.

"Harry, please wake up..." "Harry, please get out of bed..." "Harry, please get dressed..."

Each command spoken in a quiet but pointed manner, through the heavy frown on his guardian angel's face. Pleadingpleadingpleading. Even simple tasks like these are so overbearingly tedious that Harry struggles to complete them.

It's seven AM on a wintry Thursday morning. There's a twenty-three year-old boy standing at the kitchen countertop of his cramped apartment. There's with a steaming mug of tea in his hands. It's too hot to drink without scalding his tongue. He's so exhausted that all he wants to do is crawl between the spaces of the seconds on the clock and fall asleep.

But there's a boy with angel wings standing before him, hand reached out to gently brush the stray curls from Harry's face. Subconsciously he sinks into the warm, unearthly touch, full of all the affection in the universe, all for Harry and only Harry.

The morning begins with begging. And the worst and most dreaded of all?

"Eat breakfast, Harry. Will you please eat?"

...

THE DAY HE MET his guardian angel, Louis, he was bent over the toilet with his fingers jammed down his throat. Puking up spit and stomach bile.

When he felt a hand on his back he thought he had finally teetered over the line that separated sanity from insanity, landing on the wrong side of the divide. Still, he stroked his gag reflex with the pad of his middle finger, stomach clenching around emptiness as his body desperately tried to force something up.

Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he turned around, and was more than shocked to see the slight figure of a boy with glowing golden skin.

"Who are you?" Were the first words out of Harry's mouth, deep voice raspy due to exhaustion, throat burning from the acidity of his own stomach bile.

The strange apparition hadn't responded, electing instead to ignore his question. Whispering, "I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so sorry I couldn't keep you safe."

He engulfed Harry in a hug, holding him so tightly Harry finally stopped trembling. Harry only sunk into his hold, eyes wet from tears, throat aching, spit slicking his face. Yet he felt comfortable, for once like he belonged. Through the confusion, fear, and self-disgust, he felt protected. And here this stranger was apologizing for not keeping him safe. Harry didn't understand.

So he opened his eyes. All he saw in the reflection from the mirror was the room engulfed in golden light, and dark charcoal wings arching from the stranger's back.

...

"Harry..."

"I'm eating," Harry bites back, voice irritated and cold.

Louis sets his hands on his hips, expression accusing, as his wings unfold from his back in his anger. Harry has noticed the angel's wings always appear when he's overwhelmed with emotions.

"You're eating celery."

"Fuck off."

...

A WEEK LATER Harry goes to a café for a nice place to study. Louis decides to go with him, walking by Harry's side down the busy street. They're holding hands, cold skin on warmer skin, as the biting wind cuts straight to Harry's bones. New York is freezing in the winter, and since Harry is always cold, he needs all the warmth he can get.