~Dream Your Nightmares~ --A Larry Stylinson AU--

Chapter 18

Louis sat in the dim lit library, his glasses sliding down his nose and his sketchpad set in his lap.

He had had a nightmare and gone down to his hiding place, he always felt safe down there. No one could reach him, he was alone. He’s been down there for a few hours and he knows Harry is probably awake by now, probably making breakfast because he’s so dead set on getting Louis to eat more, but he couldn’t bring himself to go and check.

He’s tried everything to get his mind off that horrid dream but nothing seems to be working for him. He’s tried reading, he wrote a new song, and right now he’s drawing. Drawing seems to be the most effective, his emotions and thought flowing onto the paper with every flick of the pencil, the grey lines bending and twirling in intricate patterns.

He’s dying for his razor, dying for the feel of the cold metal against his tanned skin, the sting as he slid it smoothly down his arm, the look of the crimson red flowing down before dripping to the floor. He wanted it, he wanted it bad, but he knew Harry was just upstairs ready to stop him if he tries anything.

Sighing, he placed his sketchbook on the stand next to him along with his glasses and switched the light off, flooding the room with darkness. He buried his head into his hand and tried willing the pounding to stop for at least a minute; it’s been torture having it non-stop. He doesn’t know how long he sat in the dark, ten minutes? Fifteen? Hell, it could have been an hour for all he knew.

He threw his head back with a groan, immediately regretting that decision when the pounding grew worse and nausea stirred in his stomach, and slowly got up from the comfortable chair. He lazily made his way up the stairs, his hand running along the smooth design of the railing.

As expected, Harry was running about in the kitchen, dirty dishes piled in the sink and two plates of food sat on the island.

“Morning Lou.” He smiled as he walked by, planting a kiss on his cheek and handing him a plate of food.

“Morning.” Louis replied, taking a seat at the island in the middle of the room and watching as Harry sat across from him.

Louis used his fork to push the food around his plate, not making any move to eat it. “Lou, you gotta eat.” Harry stated, breaking the silence that had fallen over the pair.

“Not hungry.” He mumbled keeping his head down.

He heard a sigh followed by the squeak of the chair on the floor and muffled footsteps. Harry wrapped his arms around Louis’ waist, lifting him from the chair and sitting in it himself and placing Louis on his lap.

Louis immediately wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck, burring his head into the punk lad’s chest. He felt Harry rest his cheek on top of his head and sigh once again.

“Why is this happening to me?” Louis whimpered, memories of the past year and his dream flooding his head.

“I don’t know. You don’t deserve it thought.” Harry whispered in response.

Louis chocked back a sob and buried his face deeper into his boyfriend’s chest, his arms hugging his tighter. “I dreamt of them last night.” He muttered.

“Who?”

“The girls, mum,” He stopped, hesitating for a moment before adding, “you.”

“You wanna talk about it?” Harry asked, running his long fingers through Louis hair comfortingly.

Louis sucked in a sharp breath but nodded anyways, “The- the girl, oh it was terrible, they-they were all bloody. M-mum was too, she was shouting at me, saying I did this to them, that it was all my fault. You were there also, my god that was the worst.” He sobbed, listening to Harry’s soft words of comfort. “You-you left me. You were screaming, s-saying I did it to them, I was a terrible p-person and a fuck-up. You said I caused them to be killed. Y-You said you wanted nothing to do with me and then left.”