Sealed With A Kiss | n.s

49 ✧ dark vs light

Murky images float through the blank spaces of his mind. It's still unclear what they are. All he can see are vivid flashes of blue and green with hues of red amongst small willows of smoke.

He sees the flashing of colours through his eyes again and again and again. This time, a predominant glowing green light. A deep, luscious kind of green, kind of like the greens of a forest, or of an emerald gem.

The green light shrinks, dims out before splitting into two. A pair of bright terracotta green eyes.

An angular structure forms, curving around to form a perfectly chiseled jaw, then it's a strong column of neck, spanning out to broad shoulders, carving out the contours of his torso and arms. It narrows down to his hips, dipping slightly to form a little V by his hips. Long and perfectly toned legs are formed, followed by the swirls of blank ink adorning his golden skin.

"Harry?" He hears a voice call. His voice.

Then he sees a set of pearly whites, beaming at him brightly, little dimples indenting in his cheeks.

And then there's the same flashes of blue. The same hues a crystal clear ocean holds, one with speckles of gold and green in them.

The same thing happens— the glowing blue light dims, shrinking as it turns to a pair of blue eyes instead.

Tousled, brunette hair start to form with light streaks of blonde at the wavy tips, followed by the structure of a jaw, a little dimpled chin, down to form a neck, before spreading to carve out toned shoulders and a torso that's chiseled just to the right amount.

It's him.

He can see himself. Why the hell can he see himself? Is he a ghost? Does this mean he's dead?

"Niall." The low, husky voice is drawled out, smooth like butter, gentle like a lullaby. Even at a time like this, there are little tingles tickling his insides.

"Harry?" He asks once more, watching as those blue eyes light up even more, a smile so warm like the sun gracing his lips.

"It's me, my love." Harry answers, his voice echoing in the large, empty space. Harry reaches a hand out, and he watches himself grin widely, a hand stretched out as well.

But it never touches Harry's fingertips. Not even a graze.

"Harry, come closer." Niall demands, trying to stretch, trying to move his legs to bring himself closer to Harry. But he just can't move. It's like the little willows of smoke that are dancing by his feet are weighing him down.

And the green eyed lad does so, his legs are moving, striding towards Niall with a beaming smile, arms spanned out, ready for an embrace.

Niall has an equally bright smile on his face, ready to hold Harry in his arms once again. But it never came.

"Harry, what's going on?" He asks, and there's a slight tremble in his voice, a fear, anxiousness building up in his gut. "Why can't I touch you?"

He feels himself drifting, drifting further and further away like a helpless plywood on the large ocean. Harry runs faster, stretches his legs further, but it seems as though the faster and harder he runs, Niall only drifts further and further away.

"Harry!" Niall shouts, but his voice is muffled, nothing but an echo ringing through the silence. There's a sting in his eyes as he tries to hold back his tears.

Harry turns smaller and smaller, his bright emerald eyes and warm smile now nothing but a distance memory.

Flashes of the vision come and go in waves before the whole world is suddenly overwhelmed by darkness once again.