Eroda Sunshine

Noises in the Night

These nightly talks had become a ritual that Harry looked forward to more than he would ever admit to Louis. His eagerness for them seemed out of proportion. It was true he had no one else to talk to, yet his anticipation seemed unreasonable.

There was no awkwardness nor nervous rambling; just a continuous, easy flow of conversation. Harry would like to think they were on the cusp of a friendship, but he didn't know if that was being presumptuous. Probably just wishful thinking.

"Wanna go for a swim?" Harry asked on one of these nights; this one being particularly warm.

"Uh, hard pass on that," Louis responded. "Unless you wanna get torn up by the coral reefs."

"Why didn't I have a problem with that when I swam to shore here?" asked Harry.

"You're damn lucky, that's how. A wave probably carried you right over them."

"Is there a way to get past them?"

Louis blew out a long and deep sigh. "I don't know and I don't really wanna find out. That's some dangerous shit, and at night it would be a good way to die. By the way, you must be a good swimmer, yeah?"

"Yeah, I've been swimmin' since I was hardly a year old. My mum taught me."

"You're lucky. Most people would have drowned – even fairly accomplished swimmers. But maybe . . . just possibly . . . bein' a strong swimmer, you swam to shore, but just don't remember it because of the trauma. Your brain might have switched off and you went into survival mode and just did what you had to do. I never saw you swimmin,' nor saw evidence of you coughin' up water."

"Does that happen?"

"Of course. People who were in horrific car accidents, or other kinds of accidents, often can't remember what happened right before or after the accident. And some of those people did heroic things to save others. I've heard a lot of those stories."

"A lot of those stories?" Harry was wearing an eager yet heedful expression. Louis realized he'd let too much slip. But then he reconsidered it. He really was being ridiculous. Why was he so secretive? Why was he keeping such a tight grip on himself? Was there really any logic in it?

It was time he stop being so paranoid and learn to have some faith in Harry, who had shown no sign of being deceptive or malevolent in the weeks he'd been here. Louis had had bad experiences with people, but why take it out on Harry by withholding things? Just as long as he didn't allow himself to get too close to Harry . . .

"Actually, I completed two years of medical school," he revealed, somewhat sheepishly.

"Are you freakin' kiddin' me?"

"No. I just . . . have a thing . . . about tellin' people too much about meself." It was hard to explain without telling Harry the whole story, and he wasn't about to do that. Harry could do with the minimum, he told himself.

"That's why you had antibiotics, and seem to know more than the average person about medical stuff!"

"Remember though, that I'm not a medical doctor. Not yet, and shit . . . never will be now. Remember how you called me repressed? I reckon that's because I'm cynical, and med school made me that way."

"How?" Louis wasn't surprised at Harry's question – Harry never stopped being curious.

"Medical school is hard . . . very hard. Harder than I can even tell you. And it changes you – at a deep level."

"Because it's hard?"

"Well yeah, it includes things like serious lack of sleep – we're talkin' days without it, tryin' to memorize more than you can even envision, feelin' like you're goin' outta your mind, and doin' nothin' but studyin' all your wakin' hours, which is most of the time."