I Want to Write You a Song

All Your Little Things

December 1

This morning Harry wakes up before Louis, but he doesn't get out of bed. He lies there, propped up on one elbow studying him.

Louis face is relaxed, and his hair looks particularly soft in the sunlight streaming in from the window. It takes everything Harry's got to not reach out and run his hands through it, but he doesn't. He wouldn't want to risk waking him. Louis looks younger in his sleep, less sad Harry thinks. He's also slightly mesmerized by Louis' eyelashes, which appear long and golden in the sunlight.

He studies every little detail of Louis' face, taking it in and committing it to memory. Harry thinks he could stare at Louis all day if he'd let him, and still discover new little things to be in awe of.

He's admittedly disappointed as he watches Louis' eyes flutter open.

All good things must come to an end.

It doesn't take long for him to cheer up though, because he's happy to see Louis. Harry might be a bit of a fool for him, but that's okay. Louis is a fool for Harry, too.

And they'd never want it any other way.

"Good morning, Sunshine," Harry says softly and reaches out to stroke Louis' hair now that he's awake. Harry can't fight his smile, because it's just as soft as it looks.

Louis smiles too, and rubs at his sleepy blue eyes. "I had a good dream," he says, his voice still groggy.

He melts at his words, because Louis' groggy voice might be his favorite sound. Right up there with his laughter, of course.

Harry scoots in closer to Louis. "Tell me about this dream."

"Well, you were there. And we were at the beach, the one you love so much in-"

"Cape Cod," they say at the same time.

Louis chuckles, "We didn't swim or anything, just laid close, soaking in the sunshine. And each other."

Harry realizes that's exactly what they're doing right now. He smiles. "Sounds like a nice dream."

Louis grins and blushes a little, "I think it's my favorite I've ever had." Then without thinking he blurts out, "We should go back there this summer."

Harry's face goes pale, and a pang of guilt washes over Louis, because what a stupid thing to say to a dying boy! Then he quickly pushes the thought from his mind because Louis can't actually bare it.

They both resist the urge to start counting months on their fingers. Finally, Harry answers.

"Maybe."

The thing about the word "Maybe", is that it's true meaning lies in the way a person says it. When you say "Maybe," with a smile and bright eyes, it means possibilities. It means hope.

This is not how Harry said "Maybe."

He said it the other way, the way where you don't meet the other person's eyes, because you don't want to see their face fall. The kind of maybe for when you're too scared to just say "no."

To their relief, a knock on the door pulls them away from their conversation. "Breakfast is almost ready, see you both in 10 minutes." Liam is clearly still bitter about their fight last week.

As Harry dresses, he's hit with a sudden spark of curiosity. "Hey, Lou?"

"Yes, Love?"

"Do you dream about me often."

"Course I do," Louis answers, pulling his t shirt over his head, "pretty much every night. Your my whole world, Haz."

"What about bad dreams? I'm not in those am I?"

Louis swallows thickly. He doesn't want to lie to Harry... but he doesn't want to worry him either. "Nope, you're never in those."

Actually, he wasn't technically lying...

In all his worst dreams, Harry was already gone.

The thought sends a shiver up Louis' spine.

Harry notices. "You okay, Lou?"

"Yah, just need a jumper."

Harry is okay, Louis reminds himself.

Harry is okay.

For now.

--------------------

That night, Harry takes a long time in the shower. Louis thinks it's because he was feeling rubbish earlier, and a long shower sometimes helps.

But Harry has been in there a long time. It wouldn't hurt to check on him.

"Hey Haz?"

No answer.

"Hey Haz!"

No answer.

This doesn't worry Louis, who is used to Harry not responding by now. It's been harder and harder to get his attention lately.

"I'm coming in okay?" He says opening the door.

The air is thick with steam and the smell of body wash.

No wait, that's a weird smelling body wash, Louis thinks. It smells... metallic almost.

Oh shit.

"Harry!" Louis runs over to the shower, almost slipping on the damp tiles.

He pulls open the shower curtains with so much force the almost rip, and his face goes white. He tries to scream, but he is too shocked to produce a sound.

His precious Harry lies unconscious in a pool of blood, which appears to be streaming from his head.

That's when his seizure starts.