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Harry walks into the library, meeting the darkness inside, the only light was coming from the sun setting in the sky outside the windows. Goddamn Mr. Williams and his pointless assignments that made Harry turn his car around and come back to school at seven in the bloody evening to get a useless history book that he doesn't care enough to remember the name of. But of course, Mr. Williams, for some stupid reason, wanted him to get it and read it, which is not gonna happen, obviously. He has shit to do, he has more important shit to do, and reading that book is definitely not on his list, but he'll get it anyway, just in case. He'd rather avoid trouble.
He uses the little bit of light in the room to spot the book section he was looking for. He stops in front of the large set of rows of books, and presses his finger on the edge of one, passing his finger over the line of books. He lets out a yawn, picking out a random, dark-covered book. The process doesn't take him longer than ninety seconds. He turns around and flees his way out of the library.
Only when he's about ten feet away from the door, he hears a quiet noise that sounds a lot like hypervanilating, like someone's struggling to take a steady breath. He looks around in confusion, searching for the source of the sound and wondering what the hell could possibly be happening here at this time of night, until he spots a dark head sitting on a chair in front of one of the tables in the very corner of the room, almost invisible.
He debates whether or not to go over and help whoever that is, but then, maybe it's a serial killer or- a low-key kidnapper. He's not good with those. At all. He almost got kidnapped when he was five, if it wasn't for Gemma screaming her lungs out when she saw her younger brother being taken away.
And, fuck it.
Curiousity killed the cat? Whatever.
He shoves the book in his bag absentmindedly as he makes his way over to where the person is sitting, their hard breathing becoming louder and louder with each step Harry took.
Okay, he might be a little nervous. He's not scared though. He's not. Never.
When he gets close enough to the table, he can finally make out the features of the....boy. It's definitely a boy, but due to the darkness of the room, and the boy bowing his head, Harry isn't able to tell who he is. Although, he has a feeling in his chest that told him it was someone he knows.
"Hello," he calls out, quietly, trying to let the boy know he's there, but it turns out not much more than a whisper. So he tries again, louder, with a slightly more confident tone, moving closer. "Hey,"
The boy finally looks up frantic and....terrified.
Harry freezes. Deep, ocean blue eyes flash up at him, panic and fear filling them.
"Louis?"
"What are you..." Louis trails off, struggling to catch his breath as he grips the table tightly with both hands, his fingertips turning white. "Doing...here?"
"I- I was just...getting- wait," Harry cuts himself off when Louis' body starts shaking noticably. "Hey, are you okay?" he asks, obviously seeing that he wasn't, his shaky movements starting to get clearer in the dim light.
"Just go." Louis lets out, barely, voice tight.
Harry's feet, declining Louis' request, carry him closer until he can kneel beside his chair. Louis' eyes now are shut firmly, his chin wobbling, and his mouth wide open, trying to get as much oxygen in his lungs as he could.
He's having an asthma attack.
"Oh, fuck." Harry says under his breath, starting to panic himself.
He pauses for a second, trying to gather his thoughts, "Do you have your inhaler?" his hand comes up to rest comfortingly -not so, apparently- on Louis' knee. Louis' eyes flutter open, going down to his knee in painful displeasure, then coming up to glare at Harry.
Harry's breath catches in his throat at how utterly breathtaking his eyes are. Now that his face is just a few centimetres away from Louis', he can't look away. The blue of his eyes is taking Harry's consciousness, taking him somewhere-
Louis hiccupps again, cutting off Harry's daydreaming, and bringing him back to the situation at hand, his actual hand coming off of Louis' knee.
Fuck, he needs to focus.
"Hey, hey," Harry starts, his hands automatically fetching for Louis' backpack. "Easy," he tries, "Tell me where your inhaler is," he asks again, struggling to get Louis' bag off his shoulder.
"Just leave me the fuck alone." Louis shudders in an angry tone, but it comes out weak and strangled. He shakes Harry's hands off, his head still bowed down.
Yeah, not happening.
"I'm not leaving you, Louis." Harry says, firm but gentle, staring at the vulnerable blue-eyed boy sincerely. "Now, less talking, more breathing, okay?" He requests softly, voice low and hopeful. He takes Louis' lack of protest as affirmation. "Okay, so, inhaler? Do you have it on you?" Louis' head snaps up, and he looks like he's about to explode into thin air.
"I don't need your fucking help!" he spits out, intending to shout, "Get away from me!"
Harry stills at his outburst, confused as to why he's so intent on not letting Harry help him when he's obviously needing it. Harry can't leave him. And he won't.
"Louis, please." he pleads, "You're in pain, let me help you," He looks into his eyes, trying to make Louis see his sincerity. His voice is quiet and warm. "I'll promise you that you won't have to even remember this tomorrow, or deal with me, for that matter. Just let me.." he trails off, begging for Louis to let go, and believe the desparation and devotion in his eyes. Louis closes his eyes after a few moments, his panting rate was getting faster, and his body shaking uncontrollably. It looks like he's collapsing all together. Harry bites his lip in worry.
"I...don't- don't have it," Louis coughs out, his voice fading out, quite literally making Harry lose his shit.
"Shit." He brings one hand up, running it over the side of his face and through his hair, sighing loudly. He tries to think of any way he could possibly make Louis' pain go away. He never learned how to deal with asthma attacks.
Wait...he did.
"Louis? Love, are you still with me?" he takes Louis' backpack off his back, finally, throwing it to the ground, lessening the pressure on his torso. He places his hand on the small of his back, asking for his attention. Louis looks up at him brokenly, helplessly angry, a few drops of tears on his cheeks.
Oh, no.
"Hey, no, It's okay. You're okay, I promise. You're fine. Just stay with me, yeah?" He nods slowly, making Harry let out a sigh of relief. Almost.
Harry doesn't know if he's allowed to wipe Louis' tears off...so he doesn't.
"Okay, good, now..." He slides his arms under Louis' knees, and behind his back, lifting him on the edge of the table. Louis gasps at the sudden move, clutching Harry's shirt on his chest, his hiccups not getting any less.
"Shh. You're okay. You're good. It's okay. I'm right here," Harry places his upper body against his back, flattening his fists and tangling their fingers together. He lets out a shuddery puff of air, placing his head between his shoulder and neck before saying, "Now, I need you to follow the rhythm of my breath. Slow and steady. Can you do that, love?" Louis nods shakily, leaning his body back against Harry, trying to focus on the task as he struggles to contain his little coughs. "Alright, here we go," Harry settles against Louis' back, making sure the position is comfortable for the two of them. "You can do it, Lou. We'll do it together, okay? Follow my lead." He whispers in Louis' ear, breathing slowly against his neck, letting him feel and hear his inhales and exhales.
Harry keeps on counting each breath slowly in Louis' ear, encouraging him, and hugging him to his chest tightly, partly to keep his shaky movements in control. But also, because he can. Louis' body starts steadying slowly after a few long minutes, his breathing still shaking just a little, less panting, more normal breathing. His hold on Harry's hands loosens, and his body becomes limp against his chest, tears dry on his face. His eyelids are closed, and his features are mostly calm, except for the hint of furrowed brows.
He looks so peaceful, unconscious and asleep. Harry has always known that Louis is attractive, the prettiest boy he's ever laid his eyes on. He takes Harry's breath away everytime his eyes land on him. Harry just never realized how utterly elegant and beautiful Louis is until today, being this close to him, being able to see him so freely and accurately, he was captivating. He scolds himself for letting it take Louis a tough asthma attack for him to notice.
He doesn't want the moment to end. Louis is laying so vulnerably and small in his arms. He has such a small body, Harry would fold him up in his lap and shield him from the world. And god, does he want to do that.
He sighs in defeat, because he knows any imagines he's going to start having would never come to life. Though, he can't stop his mouth from pressing a small, chaste kiss to Louis' neck, before standing up and leaning Louis' torso against his shoulder, careful not to stir him awake.
Harry picks his backpack, pausing when he notices the tiny sticker on the side pocket of it. It's a one-eyed minion with a tongue sticking out and a football at its feet.
It's not even a joke anymore, he is seriously in love and it's nowhere near funny.
Louis' body weighs close to nothing as Harry lifts it up, tucking his head comfortably on his shoulder.
===
It isn't a long trip to Harry's car. He leans Louis against the front of the car as he fishes his pockets for the keys. As soon as he gets the passenger door open, he places Louis gently on the seat, fixing up his clothes. Harry's arm muscles strain just a little in the process. He pushes Louis' seat back slowly, letting his body flatten slightly, just allowing him to lay comfortably before putting his seatbelt on.
Again, Harry gives himself a minute to admire just everything about Louis. He can't resist. Can't get enough of staring at such a sweet, mesmerizing creature, without getting caught. He's wearing tight black jeans, and a plain light-colored sweater. The outfit makes him look like an angel glowing in the dark. As cheesy as it sounds, it's the least expressive description to how utterly, stunningly gorgeous he looks. His skin appears so soft, Harry can't help but trace the back of his fingers down the curve of Louis' neck. It feels like honey under his touch, as he brings his thumb up to Louis' cheek, caressing the skin there. He feels the hint of stubble growing on his jaw, adding to the godly look.
Fuck, this is only getting worse. He's starting to feel his sensitive organs twitching. And nope. Not happening.
He pulls his hand back, resisting to leave another kiss somewhere on Louis' face, and takes a step back. With one last look at him, he closes the door quietly, moving to the other side of the car. He runs both of his hands through his hair stressfully and pulls his driver door open.
The car drive is quiet, except for Whitney Houston's soft voice coming through the radio, relaxing Harry's brain and easing the tension from his body just enough, as the lights of the streets pass by. He leans back against his seat, letting his thoughts that Louis had always existed in, wander.
So, here's the thing, Harry's had a crush -and by crush, he means totally, deeply, head over heels in love- on Louis basically since the day he saw him. He just finds everything about him endearing and fascinating, from the way he flaunts himself around like a gorgeous peacock, to the way his striking, blue irises stares down Harry's soul in the hallways.
But Harry is not a nerd. And Louis is not a bully. It's not the typical story, no. They just never got a chance to be friends. They happen to attend completely different classes. One, because Louis is actually two years older than Harry. And two, because Louis is a drama major whereas Harry is studying law, so...no such luck.
Also, to be quite honest, Harry has always felt a little self-conscious around Louis. Whenever they cross ways, or happen to have small conversations somehow, through mutual friends, or public projects, Harry would always just admire him silently, stare at him like he's staring at an artistic, beautiful painting, instead of talking back or interacting with him. He just doesn't know how to deal with Louis, how to talk to him, even though Louis seems to be nothing but friendly and funny, quite sassy on the side. It's hard for Harry because he wants to sound and look perfect for Louis. He doesn't want to take the chance of embarrassing himself by saying or doing anything stupid in front of him.
Call him pathetic, but that is what happens when you've been too far up someone's arse for years.
And that's all from Harry's side, he has no idea if he's ever even crossed Louis' mind absently. And when faith finally decided for them to have an actual, real interaction, of course it had to be in a horrible situation like that.
Because Harry's luck is just a total bitch.
Louis probably hates Harry now for staying with him and helping him out, cosidering he would've stabbed Harry in the throat for insisting to help, if he could, at that moment. Harry's love life is also a bitch, for the record. There's a small, almost non-existent part of him that was curious as to what Louis was doing in the library this late, on his own, and what provoked this asthma attack upon him, but he ignores it, because there are more important things at hand right now, like making sure Louis is okay. He's going to focus solely on that. And only that.
===
The car moves smoothly down the surprisingly, slightly less crowded streets of London, Louis' building coming into view in the far corner of the road. Louis has a habit of throwing parties at his place every now and then -Harry reckons he throws a party each time he achieves something on his own personal bucket list, don't ask-, and it stopped shocking Harry as of how many people actually do come to Louis' parties, considering they rarely happen. Even teachers seem to be unable to resist them. Probably because he's a ball of charm with legs, and no one can say no to those shiny, compelling blue eyes.
Anyway, Harry had memorized Louis' adress the first time he attended one of his parties. He knows it by heart now. He shakes his head at himself, at that thought.
Absolutely pathetic.
The building is one of the most tranquil ones around the area, he doesn't understand how Louis manages to throw parties without anyone complaining.
Again, ball of charm.
Harry's Jeep halts in front of the tall, quiet building, people not nearly filling the streets around it. It's almost nine at night. Louis would probably be at his peak right now. Harry lets him have a little more of his beauty sleep (nap) for a few minutes before calling out his name softly, after he undoes his and Louis' seatbelts. Louis' forehead wrinkles for a moment, but he doesn't wake up.
Right, Harry was trying to avoid touching, but.
He lifts his hand slowly to Louis' shoulder, tapping softly. He whispers, "Louis,"
Louis' open mouth closes, his throat bobs as he gulps slowly. He blinks swiftly, stirring awake. Harry retracks his hand back in his lap as he watches Louis looking around himself, his eyes going from side to side heavily as if everything is coming back to him.
"Hey," Harry says gently, putting on a small, calming smile for Louis' sake, in hopes of making the situation seem less creepy for him. His eyes finally focus on Harry, eyebrows going down.
"What happened?" His voice comes out raspy and deeper than usual. It makes Harry squirm in his seat.
"You...don't remember?" He wonders shakily, ignoring the friction, the nervous attitude that came with any Louis Encounter starting to rush through.
"No, I remember," Louis answers, bowing his head slightly, his voice lowering, and his eyebrows still hunched down. "I just don't remember getting in your car, let alone leaving the library." He brings his eyes up to Harry's worried ones, confusion clear on his features. He fumbles with the side of his seat, moving it forward in a sitting position to sit up.
"Uh," Harry stutters, posture frozen in place as he tries to think of a decent, possibly honest scenario to tell him. "Uhm, you...uh-"
"You carried me, didn't you?"
Harry's head snaps up so fast he almost hits the ceiling of the car, his eyes widening, and his mouth hanging open, fishing for an answer. He felt every drop of blood in his body rushing to his face.
"I- I didn't mean- I'm sorry, I was just-" He stops when Louis sighs stressfully, colliding back against the seat in defeat. "I'm sorry, I just wanted-"
"To help," Louis finishes off, grazing up at the ceiling of the car. "I know," He said firmly, moving his eyes to Harry's face. "And that's the problem, I didn't want your help." He insists, the furious tone sweeping back in his voice.
"You needed it!"
His eyes flash with a mix of emotions that Harry can't place quickly enough, before Louis picks his bag, and storms out of the car. Harry's heart is literally pounding against his chest and his throat feels too tight to let air in. His hands are shaking.
Shit.
He scurries out of the car, calling after Louis in pure panic.
"Louis!" He shouts, trying to catch up with him as he stumbles over his own feet. "Louis, wait, please!" He finally reaches him, blocking his way right in front of the building door. "Please, I didn't mean-"
He stops mid-explanation when he sees Louis' wet face. "Oh my god, you're crying. Oh my god, I'm so sorry." He feels his heart dropping with every tear Louis spills.
When Louis stays silent, Harry risks touching his arm with one hand, lifting the other up to his cheek without thought, and wiping gently at his tears.
Louis lets him.
"I'm so sorry, Louis. I didn't mean to hurt you."
Louis shakes his head, eyes down, voice choked. "You didn't."
"What are these for then?" Harry asks softly as his thumb works under Louis' eye, wiping the wetness.
Louis' wet eyes lift up to meet Harry's, his mouth wide open, fishing for words. He gives Harry a look he can't decode, and Harry can't tell if the red cheeks were just the traces of crying, or if Louis was actually blushing. It makes the corner of his mouth curve up.
"Just.." Louis' voice cracks as he wipes at his nose with his sleeve. He makes to move inside the building, but Harry shakes his head, blocking his way once again.
"No, I'm not leaving you alone like this." He says on instinct. "Come on,"
He takes Louis' wrist, pulling him along to an alley behind the building, walking in silence. Louis doesn't shake his hand off.
Harry sits down on the ground, folding his feet beneath himself. He pats the space beside him, beckoning for Louis to take it. Louis gives him a blank look, and flops down on the ground a few moments later, leaning back against the wall. He bends his knees, feet flat on the surface as he closes his eyes. He exhales loudly, traces of dry tears on his cheeks.
Harry directs his body towards him and places his hand on his calf, squeezing lightly. It causes Louis to open his eyes slowly and point them at Harry's hand on his leg. Harry doesn't exactly understand where this bravery came from, but he pats himself on the back for it. He thinks Louis needs him to be the brave one right now.
Oh, and he would do anything for Louis.
Literally anything.
"It's okay, you know?" He finds himself saying as he moves his hand up and down Louis' shin. "I don't know what this is all about," He licks his lips, "But it's okay, or it's gonna be okay, eventually. I promise." He takes a breath, glancing up quickly at Louis through his eyelashes, but failing to move his eyes back down. "And....you can trust me." His voice fades out by the end of the sentence, and he bites his lip almost instantly.
Louis' silent stare only adds to the nerves that came back as soon as he started talking.
So he just pushes and keeps talking. Might as well.
"I mean, what happened earlier was obviously a big deal to you, --I don't know why, but you can trust me with it. It can be our little secret, I won't tell anyone." He adds the last bit sheepishly, biting his lip briefly out of stressful habit, eyes on Louis' middle. "We don't even have to talk about it, if you don't want to. No pressure." He glances back up at Louis' face and he is suddenly overwhelmed by his own voice, and how desparate he sounds. He takes his hand off of Louis' leg immediately when he feels like he might have overwhelmed him too, or crossed any lines. He starts fumbling with his ripped jeans instead, his hands shaking slightly with anxiety. "I just want you to be okay, is all." He finishes, small.
It's silent for a few minutes after that. Not uncomfortable though. The chill air is blowing at Harry's curls swiftly as he stares off the distance, his mind restless. He doesn't look up until he hears shuffling.
Louis brings his legs closer to his chest, wrapping his arms around them as a soft shiver shakes his body, almost unnoticably. "Are you cold?" Harry asks before thinking. Louis exhales silently, closing his eyes briefly, his mouth shaping a 'yeah', but no sound coming out.
"Oh," Harry deadpans, "We should get you home then. It's late too." He says softly, making to get up.
He stills when he hears Louis' raspy voice, finally. "Do you wanna go home?" Harry's body retracks back into place, the question catching him off guard.
"I'm not-" He cuts himself off, not really knowing what to say.
Louis tilts his head at him, a slightly amused expression on his face. "You're not...?"
"No, I really don't wanna go home." Louis' smile is all that Harry ever asked for.
===
About five minutes pass by. Harry is leaning against the wall, copying Louis' position, feet facing the ground, hands in his lap. Louis is still in the same position, only his shoulder is almost touching Harry's, and Harry doesn't know who's fault is that.
Louis is the one to break the silence, his voice is music to Harry's ears.
"I have asthma." He says so quietly, it takes Harry a few seconds to register his words. "But I guess you already know that by now." Harry could see his Adam Apple moving as he gulps, fumbling with his hands nervously.
He takes a deep breath before continuing, "I've had it since I was seven. It was chronic at first, not so bad. But it got worse, growing up." He shudders slightly, and Harry fists his hands to resist hugging him to his side. "As I got older, it got harder to deal with," He pauses, chuckles dryly. "Obviously, that much you've witnessed." He doesn't look up, eyes on his lap, but Harry could tell he was embarrassed.
Louis clears his throat, "Anyway, so every single time it hit me, I would struggle a bit more than the time before. Sometimes, my inhaler didn't even do much to help, but I have it on me all the time, anyway. I was in a rush today when I got out and I forgot it. I never forget it." He explains, "Maybe I did so you could be my guardian angel." He adds softly, almost like he doesn't want Harry to hear it. But Harry did, and he tried to contain his smile. Louis continues, "I had trouble breathing. I would lose my breath for a few seconds even." He licks his lips, his voice strangled. "I had panic attacks during the asthma attacks. I still do." He exhales, then lets out another shuddery puff of air, running his hand over his face tiredly. He obviously doesn't like talking about this. Harry doesn't want to push him, even though he started talking all by himself.
"You don't have to, Louis..." He says, trying to ease the anxious tone in Louis' voice.
Louis ignores him, "It made me feel so weak. I had my inhaler with me all the time, so whenever it hit, I'd run and hide to deal with it on my own. Sometimes, I pass out when it's over. My mom used to find me in weird places, and somehow I'd wake up in my bed." He runs his hand through his hair swiftly, rubbing his eyes after.
"Except it's you who found me this time."
Harry would miss it, if he wasn't listening so intently. But it's clear that he wants Harry to hear it this time. Harry's heart literally jumps as he flips his head to look at Louis, only to find him facing away from him.
Oh my god.
He directs his face forward again when he realizes Louis is probably, maybe blushing and doesn't want to embarrass himself more. He's not, though. Harry loves him nonetheless.
That's why he doesn't think twice before reaching out to Louis' hand, engulfing it in boths of his hands.
Honestly, fuck it.
He hears Louis inhaling loudly at the touch, and feels his eyes on him for a second before they drift back off to the ground.
"I- I was there to get a few books to help me write my essay, but I guess the drama section in the library is quite abandoned, because it had dust all over the shelves. I didn't think it'd activate my asthma that bad." Louis says quietly, "I didn't know what to do, and I don't know what would've happened to me, if you hadn't showed up." He bites his lip shyly.
"I'm in my most vulnerable state when I'm having an episode. I hated it when people saw me like that, that's why I started hiding when it got bad." His voice cracks a little, and so does Harry's heart.
"Oh, Lou.." He doesn't control the nickname from slipping, nor does he control himself when he wraps his arm around Louis' small figure, pulling him to his chest. He presses his lips on his hair, hand still holding tight onto Louis'.
And then Louis speaks again, his voice small and choked. "I don't need your fucking pity." He says it so stubbornly with a child-like tone, it makes Harry grin, especially when he doesn't pull away.
"I just don't want you to think that I'm a freak." He adds, his voice smaller.
Oh, love.
"Most beautiful freak I've ever seen."
Louis squirms in his arms, letting out a soft groan. "Stop that."
"I'm not doing anything." Louis' response is a stinging pain in Harry's left nipple.
Harry lets out a surprised laugh, holding Louis' hand down. "Alright, sorry! Sorry, no need to get aggressive." He says through his chuckles. He could feel Louis' grin against his neck, and it makes him smile even bigger.
"So..." Harry prompts after a long pause, extending the 'o'.
"I don't wanna talk about it anymore."
Harry stills, "We won't." He responds quickly, licking his lips.
He keeps going though, "I just want to say something, is that cool?"
Louis shrugs.
"Okay," Harry says, his hand tightening lightly on Louis' side. "When I was fourteen, I had really, really bad asthma. When I had an episode, I would cough my guts out. I coughed so hard, when I was in public, people genuinely thought I was dying. It was so embarrassing." He feels Louis' hand moving in his own, he glances down and stares at them.
He bites his lip to contain his smile -he seems to be doing that a lot now-, when he sees Louis' thumb caressing the back of his hand. He wants to jump in giddiness.
"But then I got used to it, people looking at me like I was a homeless, injured puppy."
He's pretty sure he hears Louis whisper, "you'd make a cute puppy though", and Harry lets his smile grow freely.
"So as I grew up, the episodes became less tough and less frequent. I had weekly CPR sessions and stuff, and by eighteen, I think I healed, because it stopped coming."
He pauses, pulling back enough to look at the vulnerable boy in his arms. "My point is, being ill doesn't make you weak. If anything, it makes you strong."
Louis snorts softly, not because he thinks Harry is saying nonsense, but because he doesn't believe he's as strong as Harry thinks he is. And Harry somehow reads his mind.
"Louis," Harry moves his arm around Louis' shoulders to cup his neck gently. "You're suffering, and you choose to deal with it on your own. How can you be ashamed of that? How can you not see how tough you are?"
Louis fishes his mouth for a reply, his eyes watering again. He's trying to understand why this angelic boy thinks so highly of him, why he cares so much. He doesn't deserve someone like Harry in his life, but he's too selfish to let go now, because he knows it in his heart, somehow.
He's going to fall for these emerald eyes.
He can't help positioning his head back against Harry's neck, pulling his hand closer to his own chest. He whispers, "Thank you."
Harry closes his eyes, his mouth shaping a soft smile. "Thank you too."
So Harry's luck is not a total bitch, after all.
======