☣ alien ☣ || h.s. au

xix. dreams

ok first of all look at this fucking dork at the top i really want to marry him aight. anyway, this one goes to @coexistantt for voting on this story and commenting on my other story (schizophrenic). you da bomb girl :) anyway, i apologize for taking awhile to update, and this chapter isn't my best, i know :(

- a n n e t t a –

           The first thing I recognize when I wake is the scent―the clean-cut, soft, huggable scent that is Harry. I smile immediately, opening my eyes and finding myself in an unimaginably comfortable bed. I smile when I hear Harry humming along to a tune I knew all too well by now. It was his favorite song; how could I not know it?

           I force myself out of the lovely bed when the aroma of freshly made breakfast fills my lungs. There, in the kitchenette stands Harry in all his shirtless glory. He is clad in only a loose-fitting pair of boxers, and his back muscles move beautifully as he prepares a meal. I grin uncontrollably and pad over to the snack bar and take a seat.

           "Good morning, Sunshine," Harry chirps, "It's about time you'd awaken."

           "You know I always sleep best when I'm in that godforsaken bed," I say, "I can never make myself get out of bed before eight when I'm sleeping in that thing."

           He chuckles and makes me a plate as well as himself, then sets it before me. He sits beside me and eats eagerly, aggressively, more so than usual. I ask why he's eating so ravenously, and he responds that he woke with a stomach of ten cows.

           Upon Harry's insistence, we stayed home that day, and we watched a dozen or so movies (I lost count when we got to number 4). We are halfway through some sob story romance movie when there was a light knock on the door.

           "Please don't go get it," I groan, "You're so comfortable."

           Harry insists that he must answer the door, so I allow him to. My fiery haired best friend prances in the room, and I can't deny that I am a little annoyed at his presence.

           "Hey, lovebirds, what are we doing today?" He plops down on the seat across from me, and I glare at him in hopes that he'll leave if I glare hard enough. He doesn't.

           "Well, Harry and I were just watching movies," I say, sure to exclude his name from the statement, "until you came over."

           "Who is this?" Harry asks, and I look at him in astonishment.

           "Um, Harry, that's Blaise," I state, dumbfounded at his forgetfulness.

           "Oh, yes, Blaise! I apologize, my memory is so terrible," He chuckles, then... shakes Blaise's hand? Blaise eyes Harry warily.

           "I'll see you two later," Blaise says slowly, "I have to go see Louis today anyway."

           "Louis?" Harry looks to me for an explanation.

           "Blaise's boyfriend... Your friend? You were the one that introduced them, Harry. Don't you remember?" I ask him, confused at his lack of memory.

           "Ah, yes, Louis!" He says, but he still seems puzzled.

           "Harry, are you feeling alright? You seem a little off," I ask him, and he nods vigorously.

           "Yes, o-of course, I am, Annie! Why wouldn't I be?" He seems too defensive.

           "Since when do you call me 'Annie'? Am I dreaming or something?" I question him, and he shakes his head and laughs.

           "You're right; maybe I am acting a little strange today. I should go back to my apartment," He quickly gathers his things and before he can go, I can't help but ask him something.

           "Harry, how did we meet?" And with that he stops in his tracks.

           "We met the day I arrived here, of course," He chuckles nervously, and he rubs his hands along his shirt. Nervous Harry runs his hands through his hair, not along his shirt.

           "How?" I persist.

           "You... saw me struggling with the lock?"

           "You're wrong," I say, and with those words, I am stricken with memories. Memories of Harry and of me and of the past days I'd spent meandering aimlessly without him.

           "You're not Harry," I state, "You're not real. This, all of this is fake. What kind of mind game are you playing, Kitzowich?!"

           And suddenly, the walls around me crumble. I am in darkness, and I try to force open my heavy eyelids. When they finally do open, my vision is blurry, and the voices around me muffled. Out of the sea of hurried voices, I hear a shrill, "She's awake!"

           My eyesight clears after a couple blinks, and I look to my right and see Harry, strapped down, motionless, pale. His body resonates no color, and the question hits me like a semi-truck: is he dead?

           I try to call out, but my voice is weak, and the sound that comes out of my mouth resembles one of a throaty moan. I look around the room and see many people lining the corners of the room, afraid to move... Afraid of me?

           "Kitzowich," I say, and I think that it is incomprehensible until the devil himself steps forward. He takes a confident stride toward me, showing off before all of his peers.

           "Why am I here?" I question him, "What are you going to do to me? To Harry?"

           "Just a couple tests, dear," He smiles malevolently, "You see, you've been out cold for weeks now, walking through elaborate settings that we have created for you, to infiltrate your memories, your thoughts... Everything. We know everything. And we know that you and Harry make quite the duo."

           "Please, just let me see him," I beg. Nothing he has said registers in my mind, and I can't seem to tear my eyes from Harry.

           "Of course, you'll be able to see him, when... if he wakes up."

           My eyes fill with tears, and I want to scream, I want to hit Kitzowich, I want to kill him, until he laughs.

           "What a stupid girl you are. Harry will wake up, I can assure you that. But, you will face consequences; both of you will. The severity of your consequence all depends on your performance in these 'dreams' that we have created for you. And I must say, you performed quite exceptionally, for a human."

           "I didn't do much," I said, "I just wandered around for what felt like days, desperate and calling out for Harry." I know I shouldn't show vulnerability, but the words fall from my lips before I can stop them.

           "But that's the thing, human: you continued searching for Harry. When beings claim that the affliction they suffer from is love or deep affection, they never do prove it. They always choose hopelessness over persevering. You never gave up; each time you looked for Harry, and you knew him well enough to know that the person we placed in your dream wasn't him. This has astounded even our most advanced scientists. However, there is one more test that you have yet to encounter, and for that test we will need to wipe your memory clean of what you've just heard."

And before I can say anything else, there is a needle injected into my neck, and my eyes grow heavy yet again. All I see is darkness, and then, there is Harry.