Those Conversations Are The Secrets That I Keep

Last night you woke me up again talking in your sleep, at first I thought it was all guff, but then some of it started to make sense so I decided to get out my journal and write it down. So here it goes.

Monday, September 23rd 2014

"N-no! No! Please stop! Lou! Help me!" You half shouted half whimpered thrashing about.

I asked you several times what was wrong, but you were in such a deep sleep you didn't notice.

Sweat started pooling near your hair line and trailing down your forehead and it looked as if you were frozen in fear.

I started to wipe the sweat away, but then you started speaking again. So I sat there, my hand suspended in midair, listening.

"Stop them, p-please," you whined barely audible. Your lips trembled in fright.

Seeing your face contorted in fear like that, and hearing the panic in your voice tugged at my heart strings. I couldn’t take it any longer, I had to do something to comfort you so I did the only thing I could think of and wrapped my significantly smaller frame around yours. And the very second I made contact with your damp skin, your taught muscled relaxed, and you snuggled into me, sighing audibly with relief.

You fell asleep before I did tonight. I stayed up reading a bit because I couldn't sleep and soon I realized you were having another dream.

Saturday, October 12th 2014

You groaned and straightened up in bed a little. I flipped to a new page and craned my neck ever so slightly, so that I could take a gander at your sleeping form with my peripheral vision.

"Lou, I can't find the shirt you leant me to sleep in."

My ears immediately perked up when I heard my name, as if I hadn't been listening already. I trained my eyes back on my book, but I read the same line over and over again; waiting to see what you would do next.

Your dream me must've told you something you didn't like because you swore a little uncharacteristically. Not that you didn’t have a dirty mouth when you wanted to.

"Zayn bloody nicked, I bet."

I sat my book down on my stomach and held my fingers up to my mouth to keep from laughing.

"I really wanted to sleep in it," you whined like a five year old girl. It was really adorable the way your bottom lip jutted out, if you were to try to take a step out of bed you’d trip over it.

I think that your dream me told you something along the lines of, 'you have plenty of shirts, Harry' because you replied with a very whiney, "But I don't have any more that smell like you."

With that you lost me, but I couldn’t help but smile at the deep lines engraved on your face because of your frown. Your eyebrows were also knitted together to highlight your frustration.

"I know I'm acting childish, when do I not, but I just really miss you Louis."

That's when I realized you were dreaming about chatting on the phone with me while I was away. You wanted a shirt from me so that you could have my smell while you slept. And I could feel an ever familiar tugging on my heartstrings.

I wasn't sure about writing this one down because we weren't in bed. We were on the plane flying out to catch up with the other boys, but I thought it was cute nonetheless.

Friday, October 28th 2014

I was scrolling through Twitter trying to see what was going on in the world, dozing in and out of sleep, when you started up. At first you were just mumbling incoherently, pretty animatedly if I might add. I kept scrolling after I accepted that I couldn’t understand you, but then you started speaking clearer.

"Who are you to say that to him?" You retorted in almost an animalistic growl, your eye brows knitted downward and your bottom lip stuck out a little further than the top.

Someone evidently said something that further ruffled your feathers, to the point that your face contorted even further and you clenched your jaw.

"No one and I mean no one talks that way about him that way you worthless twit."

Okay so I admit you may not have said twit, but you know how I hate to say the other 'tw' word. Even if I'm just writing down what you said.

"Why don't you bring your sorry arse over here and let me bash your face in!" You shouted venomously, balling up your fist as if to illustrate just how serious you are. It was so hard for me not to grab your fist, smooth it out, and line it up with my hand.

By then the curiosity was killing me as to know what you were fighting about. So I murmured to you, asking you what the matter was. And in one of the few rare moments you answered me, still sound asleep.

"Don't worry about it, Lou. I took care of that twit. I'm sorry you had to see me like that, but he was saying God awful things about you."

I stroked the back of your hand and thanked you for defending my honor. Your face relaxed for a moment before forming a new expression.

You pressed your lips together so tightly that they started turning white, and I thought that you were going to bite through on accident. Your nostrils wiggled between flared and unflared and then you started speaking, your voice so thick you stumbled over your words, "Oh God I'm so sorry. It's all my fault. He said those things because of me. If I hadn't pushed you so hard to beg them to let us come out in the open then these things wouldn't keep happening."

This particular dream was extremely hard for me not to wake you and wind you up. I didn’t though; somehow I managed to keep my cool. I didn’t want to get you miffed at me after hearing all of that.

Tuesday, November 13th 2014

A deep groan escaped your lips and at first I thought it was one of your frustrated dreams. And I suppose in a way that was true.

"Louis," you gasped breathlessly. "Louis, the lads are coming over half two."

I had been rolled away from you because I had gotten hot, but when I heard that I realized I wasn't the only one. I rolled over to face you so that I could watch your expressions.

"M-me. Me-e. I'm your dirty boy," you moaned out panting the first few words. Your lips curved around each word as if it were a struggle to concentrate long enough to speak such few words.

My lips quirked up into a small amused smirk when I heard what you had to say and an idea began to form. Now I can never tell when you are having the sort of dream where I can talk to you, but that almost never stops me from trying. I whispered a few choice dirty words in a husky voice because let's face it; it was too good to pass up.

That sent you into a tizzy. You moaned my name and rocked your hips into the bed.

Your reaction only prompted me to continue dirty talking you. I told you things I wanted you to do and I told you the rewards for doing said things.

"G-a-ah, Lou-is."

You started to get a bit squirmy, like you were coming out of your skin, and I wasn't sure what to make of it until you let out the soft purr-like groan you always do when you've blown your load.

I literally had to stuff my face into my pillow to keep from waking you with my fit of laughter. I tried so hard to be quite, but it didn't much matter because you hopped out of bed and dashed out of the room like the devil himself was licking at your heels.

I only pretended to be asleep when you came back into the room naked, but you never knew the difference. You had obviously debagged yourself and disposed of your underwear in the dirty clothes hamper while you were in the toilet. I had to roll onto my side facing away from you to keep you from seeing me laugh when you grumbled swears as you dug for clean underwear.

Tonight I wrote as I listened because I didn't want to forget a detail of this one.

Thursday, December 24th 2014

I had just fallen asleep when you started tossing and turning. It only stirred me for a moment, but then I was dead to the world. That is until you really started to get worked up.

“I'm sorry, Lux.”

I smiled faintly at her name on your lips, I knew how much you loved that little girl; more than any of us ever could. I was still too asleep to be concerned, so I didn’t give it any more thought. But you didn’t stop there.

“I can't believe they said those things in front of you. You’re only a little girl.”

Hearing that brought my full attention to you, I sprang awake as if someone was actually messing with little Lux. I wanted to shake you awake and ask you what was the matter, but instead I grabbed my journal and crept closer to you, pen in hand waiting to see what would happen next.

“Well, that is an awful nasty word meant to make your Uncles upset.” You huffed and aggravation etched itself into your features, contorting your lips into something almost menacing.

At that point I was dying to know what those berks had said to you in front of such a small innocent child. Usually when you had dreams like this, it was in front of me, someone who could defend themself. Lux was just a little girl.

“Yes.. Lou is my boyfriend,” you trailed off obviously having trouble expressing yourself.

Without really thinking, I placed a hand on your shoulder only for a second, to let you know that it was alright. It appeared to help a bit.

“We’re boyfriends, because, well I love him just like your mummy loves your daddy.

I know we’re both boys, but that doesn’t make a difference.

Because he’s worth it and no matter what those ninnies say, I will always love him. Almost as much as I love you,” You explained patiently, though your voice was still raspy with exasperation. Your features seemed to relax and you almost seemed calm.

I put the journal down (only to pick it up later) and smiled at you. And before I could control myself, or give it a second thought, I leaned over top of your sleeping form and pecked your lips.

I’ll never forget the smile that you greeted me with right before your eyes flashed open and you kissed me back. You asked me what that was for and I told you that it was nothing; I just woke up loving you and couldn’t wait till morning.

Harry smiled, tears brimming in his eyes, as he read the neatly scrawled entries in the red and white journal. They were memories of him, he never knew about. He recalled seeing Louis fuss over the journal occasionally, but he had thought it was just lyrics or even a diary. He never imagined it would be filled with his dreams.

Harry sighed shutting the journal; he couldn’t resist hugging it to his chest, because it was a little piece of Louis. He had been searching for remnants of Louis for days, before stumbling upon the little red and white composition book in the box markedLouis Night Stand/Top Drawer, he had only found pictures and knick knacks, but not anything of real substance. Finding that box and its contents seemed like a Christmas Eve Miracle to Harry.

Tomorrow, Christmas day was the one year anniversary of Louis’ death.

Harry had went home to his mums for the rest of the holiday and Louis decided to fly out and surprise him, having finished up celebrating a couple days prior with his own family. The airline had discussed grounding all flights because of the approaching storm, but for some reason decided to forgo the warnings and let all flights leave as scheduled. Everything was fine the whole way, but then towards the end the storm picked up into full force and the pilot had trouble seeing. He had assured the passengers that everything was going off without a hitch, but when it came time to land the snow had covered the runway and made it impossible for the pilot to judge. The plane did land, but it was a crash landing. Out of 403 people on that flight only 10 survived, Louis was not one of them.

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