Sealed With A Kiss | n.s

50 ✧ happy beginning

Someone once said that all of us only have so much emotional energy in one day, and we shouldn't be spending it on things that don't matter.

But what if the only thing that matters is the one that's draining out all his energy?

But maybe that's the thing? Maybe the reason is simply because it matters. Niall matters. Niall matters and means so much to Harry that every ounce of emotional energy could be drained out of him and it won't even bother him because Niall is worth it. But maybe that's a little unhealthy— disregarding your own mental health because of someone else. But it isn't just 'someone else'— it's Niall.

Either way, he'd hold on. Because despite all odds, there's still a ray of hope in him. Though small, it's one nonetheless. That small flame in him may be diminishing bit by bit every passing day, but it could never fully extinguish. Not until his heart stops beating.

But maybe that's the funny thing about hope.

Just when you feel like everything's about to crumble to pieces, it's like hope slaps you in the face (in a soft and gentle kind of way), and everything else just falls in place once more. Maybe that's all he needs, hope, to believe that things will get better and the strength to hold on. And maybe that's the thing... hope makes one realise that the pain that they're experiencing, can never compare to the joy that's coming, because when there is hurt and pain, there will always be joy at the end of the line.

His dark lashes brim heavy with tears, feeling the muscles of his chin tremble like a small child's as he gazes into those eyes. Those stunning blue eyes which he missed so terribly. His eyes have a thousand hues of blue and a ring of hazel radiating in softly swooping arcs from his pupils. They're kinda like fire in ice, warmth in the cold, the hottest fire that burns blue.

He missed looking into them so much. He missed him so much. The little freckles on his nose, the small crinkles by his eyes, his curved brows, the moles on his forehead and on his cheeks.

And here he is— awake, gazing back at him like nothing else in the world matters.

He even pinches himself on the arm. Hard. But nothing. This is real.

Niall's awake.

Niall is awake.

"Hi." Niall's surprisingly the first one to mouth out, but no sound spills out from his lips.

Even then, it seemed to have been able to snap Harry out from his trance.

Slowly, as the reality starts to sink in, the first tear spills and rolls down his cheek.

"Ni..." Harry whispers softly, still taking the time to cherish and appreciate the moment, to appreciate all the little things of Niall he missed so much.

"Ni," he says, a little louder when things slowly start to fully register in his brain.

"Oh my god, Ni." He gasps then when it finally hits him, abruptly throwing his arms around Niall's frail frame, burying his face in Niall's neck, breathing in and relishing in his warmth.

He sobs into his chest unceasingly, hands clutching at the purple hospital gown he's wearing. His tears soak through the thin fabric, but he didn't care, and Niall didn't seem to mind either.

He feels stupid. So stupid and so pathetic for being such a crybaby. Here Niall is, the one who just awoke from a freaking five month coma, and there he is, crying like a fucking loser.

Niall gently rests his head against Harry's, his silent and simple way of comforting him. But it only makes Harry cry even harder, for it gives him a serenity he can never know without him being close. He's flying with joy.