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I’ve never had a moment’s doubt. I love you. I believe in you completely. You are my dearest one. My reason for life - Atonement
🍂
One month after.
Another day, another life. That’s what it always feels like. Another day passes by, another life comes and goes, another second, another minute, another hour, passes by just like his.
It’s not complicated, it’s not messy, it’s just what it is now. Harry doesn’t think he can take much more, everything hurts, everything is dull, everything is too much.
Days pass by one after another in a blur of time. visits mostly from Zayn and Niall. never Liam.
Harry knows it’s too hard for Liam to look at Harry right now. He wants to understand, he wants it to be okay, but he doesn’t and it’s not.
“Haz?” Zayn quietly says with a soft hand on his back.
“Don’t call me that,” Harry bites back bitterly. He shrugs Zayn’s hand off of him and turns further away from him.
“I’m sorry,” Zayn says. “You have to get up though. let’s get you in the shower and maybe out for some dinner,”
“No,” Harry says pulling the duvet up to his chin and sinking down into his bed.
“Harry it’s been a month,” Niall says tentatively.
“And I’m supposed to just get over the love of my life in a single month? One month passes and suddenly I’m all better? It’s suddenly fixed just because thirty fucking days have passed?” Harry tries not to shout but ultimately fails.
“Of course not, H, but you’ve barely left your bed,” Niall says moving a hand to touch Harry but deciding against it.
“Don’t call me that! Don’t call me what he called me!” Harry yells. “Just get out, leave me alone, I don’t want to see you,” he picks up a pillow from his side of the bed and throws it at the two people that might care about him most in this world. “Take a note from Liam and stop coming over,”
Zayn opens his mouth to say something, to try to make it better, to pull his best mate out of the pit of depression he’s been in since Louis left. But Niall takes his arm and all but drags him out of the room. Niall knows that it’s a lost cause today, Zayn would be relentless, and it would only result in him getting screamed at and having whatever is within Harry’s reach thrown at him. They’ve been through this every single day for the past month.
Once Harry finally hears his bedroom door click shut, he wipes at his eyes and cheeks, getting rid of the tears that traitorously fell. He closes his eyes and lets himself sink back into his dreams where Louis didn’t leave.
🍂
“Haz, we have to get up,” Louis giggles as Harry brushes his nose back and forth on Louis’.
“Hm, I think we should skip,” Harry says pressing kisses to the sides of Louis’ mouth.
“We can’t, they got so mad at us for being on ‘vocal rest’ together the other day,” Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s neck and lets himself be buried underneath his favorite boy.
“So what? What are they going to do about it? Fire us? Break up the band?” Harry asks tracing Louis’ collar bones and the tattoos on his chest. “Remember this one?” He asks looking at Louis’ ‘it is what it is’ tattoo.
“’course I do, love,” Louis smiles kissing the tip of Harry’s nose and rolling him over to pull him out of bed and to the shower, they just can’t miss another interview. “Come on you bloody giant,” Louis laughs finally pulling Harry out of the sanctuary of their bed.
Harry pretends to fall onto Louis, making him drag him to the bathroom. Harry watches Louis carefully as he turns on the water, extra hot, just like Harry likes it. He lifts his arms to let Louis undress him because he knows Louis likes to take care of him.
Harry smiles down at Louis as the water runs over his head once they’re in the shower and Louis can’t bring himself to look away.
“Tell me about yours again,” Louis says reaching out of the shower to turn on some music. Harry loves this game that Louis made up once he realized Harry may be addicted to the tattoo shops. It’s the same thing every time, but Harry loves when Louis asks.
“These,” Harry says pointing to swallows inked on his chest. “Are us. See, this one’s smaller than this one, the little one is you,” Harry laughs at the way Louis rolls his eyes at being called little. “And it has our eyebrows, that’s my favorite part,”
Louis hums in response and presses a tiny kiss to each bird. “and this,” Harry points to the rose near his elbow. “Is a tattoo I got for Taylor,”
Louis scoff and lightly hits Harry with the loofah. “Just kidding,” Harry says with a small laugh. “Again, it’s for you, remember how crazy the fans went when you got the dagger to match?”
“That was my favorite thing to fight with management about,” Louis chuckles. “Stop hogging the water,” Louis says moving Harry to the other side of the tub.
“The nails are because you talked me into the stupid things,” Harry says pointing to the three nails on his bicep. “To be honest, I would have preferred the horseshoe,”
“Can’t win them all,” Louis shrugs washing shampoo out of his hair and squeezing some from the bottle onto Harry’s hair.
“That’s far too much,” Harry says as Louis continues to empty the bottle.
“Nonsense. Maybe now they’ll stop calling your hair greasy,” he laughs. Harry pouts and Louis pinches his chin with his thumb and index finger.
“I’d explain this one, but I think it’s pretty self-explanatory,” Harry says turning his arm out to show Louis his clothes hanger.
“I wish it wasn’t,” Louis says sadly.
“Can’t last forever, can it?” Harry asks trying to lift his mood.
“I wish I knew,” Louis says.
They both know that they’ll be closeted as long as they’re in the band, it’s in the contract. They’re just not sure if it’ll keep going on after, whenever after is.
Harry has a feeling it will, Louis tries to stay optimistic.
Still, Louis loves listening to Harry tell the same old joke when someone that’s allowed to know about their relationship asks why in the world, he got a clothes hanger tattooed on him, and without fail, Harry always responds with, “Well where do you keep hangers? A closet? Funny, that’s where I am too,”
“This is one of my favorite cover-ups,” Harry says touching his anchor tattoo on his wrist that matches Louis’ rope. “I can’t change who I am, but I know I’ll always have you to keep me anchored,” Louis smiles at that and traces the lines of the tattoo.
“Wouldn’t want you any other way, love,”
“This one,” Harry takes one hand and points to his Hi tattoo and then pressed his thumb to Louis’ Oops. “This one is my favorite,”
“You say that about a different one every time,” Louis says with a fond eye roll. Harry wonders if one day his eyes will get stuck in the back of his head like his mum used to tell him. “I like this one,” Louis says poking the dots in Harry’s butterfly tattoo below his chest.
“Why,”
“This is supposed to be my game, you’re supposed to tell me,” Louis whines. Harry juts his bottom lip out as he backs up to wash the shampoo out of his hair out. “Okay, well it’s a tie between this one and these ridiculous ferns,”
“You just like them because of where they point to,” Harry teases.
“Get over yourself,” Louis laughs. “I just like that it’s iconic, when someone sees it, they know it’s you,”
“Shouldn’t you like something that only you see and know it’s me?” Harry asks scrunching his eyebrows together in the cute way that Louis loves.
“I like it when people talk about you or think they know things about you,” Louis shrugs handing Harry his hair mask bottle. Louis refuses to use it; he thinks Harry is ridiculous for the amount of money he spends on it.
“Cop-out answer, but I’ll take it,” Harry says taking his time with his hair mask knowing it’ll irritate Louis and he’ll shake his head at him. “What do we have now,” Harry looks around his arms even though it’s the same every time. Louis taps on Harry’s ship tattoo to remind him. “Oh, right, the Royal Louis, fitting. I would say yours is way more obvious than mine though, I mean really, Lou, a compass pointing towards home? I knew you were in love with me, but Jesus,” Harry says pretending to sound annoyed.
“You’re about to be left on your own if you don’t shove off,” Louis says through a light laugh. Harry always falls over his feet distracted by the sweet sound.
“And finally,” Harry says after a moment. “Things I Can’t,”
“Things you can’t,” Louis repeats running his thumb over the tattoo. Harry bites his lip and watches Louis trace his tattoo. Even this small touch is part of something they can’t. Not in public anyway.
“I wish I could though,” Harry says blinking water out of his eyes.
“But we can’t,” Louis says with a deep sigh and shakes his head. “Even if we had to do it all over again, I wouldn’t change a thing. I love how we are; I love getting you all to myself. I love you,”
“Love you, Lou,” Harry wraps his arms around Louis and as always Louis sinks into his boy like he’s the only thing in his world.
🍂
If Harry had to do it again, he would change everything.
If Harry could do it again, he would fix everything.
Louis would still be laying on his side of the bed, he would be making Harry get up to take a shower, he would be rolling his eyes at the stupid things he does. But he isn’t. Louis isn’t here and he’s not going to be here.
Harry knows he has to get out of bed. He knows he has to get off of Louis’ side. It doesn’t even smell like him anymore. Harry drags himself out of the sheets, pulls them off, and throws them into the laundry basket that really shouldn’t be able to hold them because it’s already full of Louis’ clothes that he left there and some of his shirts that Harry’s been wearing to bed when the last one loses the scent of Louis to the point that not even his cologne sprayed on it can bring him back.
Harry thinks about calling Zayn to apologize, but he can’t bring himself to. He thinks about calling Niall to tell him that he has in fact gotten out of bed and is even trying to change the sheets, but he knows if he does, Niall will come over and try to make him eat or shower or do anything else that he can’t possibly muster up the energy to do.
So, instead of calling, he finishes putting fresh sheets on and lays down on the tile floor under the hot water in the shower, letting it pelt down on him. He scratches at his tattoos, trying to tear them off his skin, they feel too heavy. He does his best to wash his hair, but the shampoo is almost gone, and his hair is far too long. He tries to wash his face, but he can’t reach the soap from his position on the floor. So, instead, Harry just does what he can, he does his very best and eventually pulls himself out of the shower and into a clean set of Louis’ shirt and sweatpants.
This is better, Harry thinks as he snuggles himself back down into the sheets and brings his shirt up to his nose to smell, to sink himself back into Louis. Harry wonders if Niall and Zayn are right, he wonders if he really does need to start moving on, start healing just a little bit. Harry has no idea how to even begin to do that.
He does the first thing he can think of the first thing he always does when he’s hurt, sad, happy, whatever feeling he’s having that feels too overwhelming.
Harry reaches over into his nightstand and grabs his faded, tattered, brown journal and a pen.
For once it doesn’t feel complicated. For the first time since Louis’ been gone, since Louis walked out of his life, Harry writes.
***
Four months after.
Harry watches the people walk in and out of the shop from his place in front of the window, one mind after another, one soul walking behind the next. Harry wonders what their lives are like. Do they walk into their houses to the loves of their lives like they walk out of the shop? Do they hold their kids close every time they see them just because they can? Do they realize that everything can be taken from them within seconds from a simple fight? A simple slip of words? A simple moody exit out the front door, never to walk back into their lives again?
Harry knows that if he were them, if he were in their minds, in their souls, he would do all of those things. He would have said he was sorry; he never was good at that, he would stop Louis from walking out of his life, he would stop him from going every single time.
Harry spirals further into his own mind when he smells the coffee cake coming fresh out of the oven as he walks in the doors of the shop and just like everything else in the past four months, it reminds him of Louis.
Harry tries to make it to a chair before he gets too dizzy, too intoxicated in the smell, and then everything goes rose-colored.
🍂
“Shit, shit, shit,” Louis says as he pulls oven mitts on and does a cute little dance as he tries to take the hot pan out of the oven. “Damn it!” he yells frustrated and slams the pan on the counter.
“What’s the matter, boo?” Harry asks wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist and blowing a raspberry on his neck.
“I burnt it,” Louis whines sadly. “I wanted to bake you something for your birthday,”
“I bet we can still eat it, let me see,” Harry says keeping his stance behind his cute little boyfriend and pulling one oven mitt off his hand and taking the spatula in the other caging Louis between his body and the counter.
“Haz, you can’t eat it, it’s complete rubbish,” Louis complains trying to wiggle Harry away but failing. Harry cuts the coffee cake with the spatula, which isn’t his favorite food ever, but he said he thought it was nice in an interview one time and Louis clung to it for dear life, so every time he sees it, Louis buys it for him, or in this case, makes it for him for his birthday.
Harry never had the heart to tell him he doesn’t really like coffee cake, he just said it in the interview because he couldn’t think of anything to say and there was a piece of it on the table behind the interviewer. He’s had enough coffee cake to last a lifetime in the past four years.
“Not rubbish,” Harry says trying to get as much of the blackened, crumbly cake onto a plate as he can. He takes the plate, spins away from Louis, and takes the whipped cream canister from the fridge.
“Not rubbish but you have to drown it in whipped cream,” Louis sighs and leans his chin on his hand on the counter.
“Oh, no, baby, this is for you,” Harry says spraying a dollop on Louis’ nose.
“Very funny,” Louis says rolling his eyes as Harry turns the canister onto the cake. “Now get it off,”
“Happily,” Harry says licking and kissing the whipped cream off his nose. “Where else can I put it?”
“Cheeky,” Louis laughs and wipes his nose off. “Don’t even think about eating that,”
Harry ignores him and takes a big bite of the burnt coffee cake.
It’s horrible, possibly the worst thing Harry has ever eaten, but he puts on the best show of his life to make it look like he loves it, and it takes his entire being to do so. “Lou, this is so good,” he exaggerates.
“Oh, shut up,” Louis says taking the fork and plate and throwing the cake in the trash. Harry silently thanks every being that took pity on him just now.
“How about we order in coffee cake?” Louis says dumping the pan in the sink along with the plate.
“Or you can take me to Rosso,” Harry says hopefully.
“If we do that you know we have to bring the other boys, we got in trouble last time for going alone,” Louis says.
“I’m tired of not being able to do our things because they won’t let us. I’m tired of not being able to be your boyfriend outside of this house just because they think we’d lose fans,” Harry says peeling a banana. He grimaces at the way it tastes like burnt coffee cake. The smell is infiltrating everything in the house.
“Harry, please, let’s not fight about this today,” Louis says hanging his head between his forearms, exhausted. They both were.
“So, what? We just grow old together living like recluses? Only living our real lives within these four walls?” Harry asks trying not to get upset.
“To be fair, there’s definitely more than four walls,” Louis mutters.
“Real nice, Louis,” Harry shakes his head.
“Don’t ‘Louis’ me,” he says softer. “You only call me Louis when you’re upset with me,”
“I’m not upset with you,” Harry says rubbing his face. “It’s just not complicated,”
“What’s not complicated, love?” Louis asks holding Harry’s hand in his.
“We either do this forever or we give it all up and actually get to live,” Harry says. “I’d give it up for you,”
“I know, and I would too, but I won’t do that to the boys, and I know you won’t either. I can do it this way forever if it means I get to be with you,” Louis brings Harry’s hand to his lips.
“You’re quite charming when you want to be,” Harry says with a roll of his eyes.
“Let’s go to Rosso with the boys and pretend that they aren’t there, how does that sound?” Louis says
“We’ve gotten pretty good at that,” Harry says putting his arm around Louis and leading him to their bedroom to get dressed and make reservations.
“I feel like I’m choking on the smell like coffee cake,” Louis says, and Harry tries to stifle his laugh.
🍂
“Harry,” Harry’s shoulders hurt like he’s been grabbed too harshly. “Come on, H, wake up,”
“What?” Harry’s eyes flutter open and he tries to sit up.
“Oh, thank God,” Zayn falls back onto his heels. “You scared the hell out of us,”
“Why?” Harry asks rubbing his head, that doesn’t feel too good either. “What happened?”
“You passed out, why did you walk away from us?” Niall asks on his other side.
“I just wanted to look in here,” Harry says quietly. He feels embarrassed to have passed out in the shop.
“You should have told us first,” Zayn says. “Are you alright?”
“What happened?” He repeats.
“I don’t know, you disappeared and by the time we found you the owners were trying to keep the crowds away from you. We found you on the ground and they said you’d been out for a few minutes, nobody could wake you,” Niall tells him.
“I guess I just got overwhelmed,” Harry says shyly. Zayn helps Harry stand up carefully when he’s convinced that Harry won’t pass out right into his arms.
“Maybe we should just take you back home,” Niall says nervously.
“Yeah, maybe it was too much too fast,” Harry says. It’s the second time he’s been out of the house in four months. The first was right after Louis left.
“We can try again some other day,” Zayn says kindly and takes his arm to lead him out of the shop.
Harry stops him. “Can we maybe get some coffee cake first?”
“You don’t like coffee cake,” Niall says.
“I know, I just feel like some today,” Harry mutters looking at his feet.
“I’ll go get it, Niall just takes him to the car, I’ll meet you there,” Zayn says rubbing Harry’s shoulder momentarily before he disappears to the register.
For the first time, Harry wishes that Liam were here, he wishes that Liam could stand to see him. Harry could use his advice and his tough love right now. Niall and Zayn are everything and more he could ask for in best mates, but they coddle him so much it’s suffocating.
Still, he thanks Zayn for the coffee cake and cuddles up to him on the ride back to Harry’s house.
Harry tries not to feel exhausted when Zayn and Niall want to stay for a while. Really, it’s to make sure Harry’s okay, but they say it’s because they want to watch a movie with him. Harry pretends to believe them, and they pretend to believe that Harry’s okay.
When they finally get up to leave, they say they’re going to pick up Liam. They don’t say that they’re going to see Louis. They don’t have to. Harry knows.
It’s been part of their routine since Louis left. They see Harry most days of the week, they make sure he’s showered, that he’s eating, and that he spends at least a little bit of time outside. Then they get Liam and go see Louis.
Harry drags himself off of the couch and sits at the dining table with his coffee cake, a whipped cream canister, his tatty old journal, and again, he writes.
***
Seven months after.
Harry thinks that maybe he feels a little better. Maybe seven months is the magic number to grieve over your relationship. Then again, maybe it’ll always be there, just a little bit, for the love of your life. For the person that was never supposed to walk out of your life, but still did.
Things never stay the same when something this big and disastrous happens. The boys made the decision to go on hiatus a month after when they realized Harry wasn’t going to leave his house any time soon. Harry thought that hiatus was a fancy word for we are never getting the band back together. How could they when two of them can’t even be in the same room together? How could they when it would never be the same?
Still, he feels bad for disappointing the fans, the boys, their families. He wasn’t prepared for the end of their music careers as a team, but he wasn’t prepared to say goodbye to Louis either. Life’s funny that way.
“Hey, how about we paint our nails?” Zayn asks Harry nudging him out of his thoughts.
“You’d paint your nails with me?” Harry asks.
“I’ll paint mine black, but yes, I’ll paint my nails with you if it’ll make you smile,” Zayn says pinching Harry’s cheek.
“I’ll smile if you let me pick your color,” Harry says slapping his hand away gently.
Zayn thinks about it for a moment. Finally, he groans and gets up to get the box that holds Harry’s nail polish from his bathroom. “You know I have a hard time saying no to you and you take advantage of it,” he scolds fondly and hands Harry the box.
Harry gives a small, smug smile and sits cross-legged on the living room floor, searching through the colors. “You can pick mine if you’d like,”
Harry looks for the best color for Zayn’s nails knowing this opportunity likely won’t happen again. He brings little bottles of greens, pinks, and yellows up to see if it matches his skin tone or his eyes. Nothing works until he picks up a deep purple. “This is the one,”
Zayn grimaces. “Could be worse,” he says. “Now you,”
Zayn takes the box from Harry’s lap and starts looking through. Harry sits quietly and listens to the little clinks of the bottles hitting each other as Zayn shuffles through them.
“I like this one,” Zayn says holding up a small bottle of light blue nail polish. Harry’s smile fades and he takes it from Zayn. He knows without looking that it has a little chip in the top where the brush screws onto the glass, and that there’s dried paint on the sides of it from messy inexperienced hands, and that it was Louis’ favorite to paint on Harry because blue was Louis’ stage color.
Harry doesn’t mean to, but Louis swirls around in his mind and drags him back into the past, back into him, back into the little moments only they know.
🍂
“You have to stay still,” Louis says trying not to shake with laughter too much.
“Me? You’re the one moving about,” Harry defends failing just as much as Louis as stifling his laughter.
“I’m trying to do a good job here,” Louis says with an eye roll. In his moment of sass, he accidentally gets nail polish all over Harry’s pinky. “Oops,”
“Cheers, well done,” Harry says almost falling over in a giggle fit.
Louis grumbles and takes the towel to wipe off Harry’s now blue pinky. “Okay, hush, I have real work to do here,”
Harry keeps the smile plastered on his face as he stays quiet and sits cross-legged, mirroring Louis in front of him. He watches Louis’ concentrated face, his eyebrows drawn together, his lips pressed into a line, the tip of his tongue poking out from between his lips.
When Harry isn’t distracting him, he does a decent job painting Harry’s nails the pretty light blue color that Louis had picked out at the store and brought home to Harry, bursting with excitement to show him.
Louis almost gets all of the paint on Harry’s nail, only a little bit gets on his cuticles, Harry thinks it’s perfect.
“We should lay out on the roof tonight and look at the stars,” Harry says as Louis finishes his last nail. He had done a really good job of not talking and just watching as Louis did his nails.
“What for? How would we even get up there?” Louis asks putting the lid back on the nail polish, but he misses and gets blue paint all over the bottle and his hand. “Damn it,”
“Out the window,” Harry says. “I love looking at the stars,”
“If you want to sure,” Louis says throwing the bottle back into the box. He cringes when he hears it clink a little too loud. “I think I might have broken it,”
“I’ll get a new one,” Harry shrugs.
“No, now it just has character,” Louis takes Harry’s hands in his and blows on the wet nail polish. “Once you’re dry, we can go look at the stars if you’d like,”
Harry tries to keep his excitement in, but he smudges his nail polish as he gets up, grabs a blanket, and pulls Louis towards the window that leads to the roof.
“Don’t fall stumblebum,” Louis laughs as he lays out the blanket for them.
“Stumblebum?” Harry asks.
“Because you’re clumsy,” Louis says patting the spot next to him. He lays with his hands behind his head and Harry lays as close to him as he can get. “I say that with loads of admiration and love,”
“Yeah, whatever,” Harry laughs lightly. He lets a few moments pass before he speaks up again. “Do you know anything about constellations?”
“Definitely, it’s my secret hobby,” Louis says.
Harry hits him lightly on the chest. “Don’t mock me, I was only asking,”
“Sorry, love,” Louis says cuddling Harry close to him. “No, I don’t know much, just that I think that might be the big dipper,” Louis says pointing to a cluster of bright stars.
Harry hums in response knowing that it is not in fact the big dipper, but he doesn’t need to tell Louis that.
After a while of watching, the stars seem to get brighter and easier to see, just because they’re out here admiring them.
“Do you ever wonder if stars shine just for you?” Harry asks.
“No,”
“Why not?”
“I’m not a narcissist, H,”
“Yes, you are, that’s why we get on so well,”
“Fair point,” Louis laughs lightly.
“I think stars shine just for you,” Harry says kissing Louis’ cheek.
“Look,” Louis says pointing to the sky and turning Harry’s face towards it. “A shooting star,”
“Make a wish, Lou,” Harry says quietly. Harry squeezes his eyes shut and wishes for his whole life to be consumed with Louis. To be just like this. “Did you make a wish?”
“No,” Louis says. Harry rests himself on his elbow to look at Louis. He was already looking back at him.
“Why not?” Harry says with a pout.
“Because I don’t need to wish on a billion-year-old star for something that I already have,” Louis says softly.
“Cheesy,” Harry says scrunching his nose up. He lays back down and looks back up at the sky. “I like shooting stars because it looks like they’re just floating down like the leaves do in autumn. It’s so peaceful and quiet,”
“You think of things in such an odd way,” Louis says running his fingers through Harry’s hair.
“Can we sleep out here?” Harry asks.
“Absolutely not,” Louis says starting to get up and trying to pull Harry with him. “Come on, I rarely ever tell you no, let’s go to bed,”
Harry reluctantly gets up and gathers the blanket. He follows Louis to their bedroom and lets Louis tuck him in on his own side even though as soon as Louis gets in bed, Harry’ll make his way over to his.
And he does, just like every night. Louis is laying on his side of the bed trying to get to sleep because they have an absurdly early morning with interviews and soundcheck, and Harry has maneuvered his way over to Louis and has slung himself over his body.
“Lou,” Harry mumbles into Louis’ neck.
“Hush,” Louis says quietly. “Lou is asleep, close your eyes,”
“You’re miles away, though,” Harry whines.
“I’m very literally not,” Louis says. “Close your eyes and go to sleep, I love you,”
“Love you,” Harry mumbles and shifts impossibly closer to Louis.
🍂
“Is that one alright?” Zayn asks pulling Harry back from his daydream by a thin string tying him to reality.
“What?” Harry asks feeling a bit out of sorts. A bit like he wants to go back in his head.
“Is that color alright?” Zayn asks taking the blue nail polish back from Harry.
“Oh, um, yeah, it’s fine. Great,” Harry says swallowing dryly.
Zayn opens the bottle and takes Harry’s left hand to start painting his nails. Harry thinks how odd it is to be doing this in the same spot, the same positions as he and Louis used to do.
“Why does Liam hate me,” Harry asks bluntly after Zayn finished his left hand and takes his right. Harry notes how much better at painting nails Zayn is than Louis.
Zayn still for a moment, probably wishing Harry had asked him any other question. “He doesn’t hate you, Harry,” he finally settles on.
“It’s been seven months and he still can’t even look at me,” Harry mumbles.
“That doesn’t mean he hates you; it’s just been hard on him. It’s been hard on all of us,” Zayn says avoiding Harry’s eyes. “I don’t think any of us were ready for what happened to happen and then the hiatus, it was all just a lot so quickly,”
Harry doesn’t say anything else about it. He knows it’s not right to put Zayn in the middle of it, but he lost Louis and then Liam leaves him too. It feels like the stars that used to shine for him have gone out completely and left him stumbling in the dark, no light to be found.
“It wasn’t even that long ago since Louis left,” Harry starts as Zayn paints on a clear coat. “It feels like he’s miles away and that it was years ago, but it also feels like just yesterday he was here with me,”
Zayn sighs. “I wish I knew what to say, H. I don’t have a quick fix for this. Maybe if you went and saw him, or wrote him something, or even just tried to talk to him-“
“No,” Harry says forcefully.
Zayn doesn’t push him. Zayn lets Harry have the space he needs; he lets him do things on his own terms and on his own time. Instead, he finishes painting Harry’s nails and lets Harry do his in return. He doesn’t say anything when Harry puts away the purple bottle and uses the light blue on him that Zayn had picked for Harry.
They don’t talk after Harry told Zayn no, they don’t have to, Zayn knows he just needs someone to be here with him. Still, he wishes he could take Harry’s hurt and pain and make it his own instead.
Harry asks Zayn if he would tuck him into bed that night and open his window so he can see the stars. Zayn just nods and does whatever Harry asks of him.
He stays with Harry that night, he lets Harry cuddle up to him and he doesn’t ask when Harry hunches over and hides what he writes in his journal. Zayn tries to be part of what Harry feels like he’s missing since Louis walked out of his life. He knows he can’t be, still, he tries.
***
Nine months after.
Harry tries to catch his breath, but the hiccups wrack his body. He desperately sucks in breaths between sobs. His body aches from dry heaving for the past twenty minutes because he doesn’t have anything left in his body to give. Harry wipes and scratches at his face, silently begging himself to stop crying.
“Harry,” Niall knocks on the bathroom door. “Can I come in?”
Harry sniffles and tries to calm his body down, he can’t. He’s a mess, he hasn’t washed his hair in days, his clothes are wrinkled, and he desperately needs to wash his face.
“Please go away,” Harry says barely above a whisper. His throat hurts and his eyes water again with the threat of getting sick.
“H?” Niall must not have heard his because Harry hears the lock being wiggled, probably with a butterknife, Niall was always good at getting into places he wasn’t supposed to be. “Hey,” he says sweetly.
Niall kneels down next to Harry and helps him up so he’s sitting with his back pressed to the wall. Harry tries to keep his head from falling to the side, but he’s too exhausted to keep it up.
“I brought you, someone,” Niall says nervously. Harry thinks for a moment maybe it’s his mum or his sister, but he knows they’re giving him the space he asked for.
“I don’t want to see anyone, not right now,” Harry mumbles as Niall takes the hairband off of Harry’s wrist and ties his hair up in a sloppy attempt at a bun.
“I thought you’d be knocking down the door to see me, mate,” Harry’s head snaps up at the sound of Liam’s voice.
He immediately regrets the quick action as he falls forward to heave into the toilet. “You have to get yourselves together, Harry,” Niall rubs his back as Liam leaves and returns with a glass of water.
“I know,” Harry says wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and thanking Liam for the water with a little nod. “I thought I was doing okay, and then it all just hit me again,”
Niall grimaces and helps Harry back against the wall and lifts his knees up so he has something to rest his arms on.
“Have you seen him?” Liam asks biting his lip and staring intently at the ground.
“Do you think I’ve seen him?” Harry asks bitterly.
“Sorry,” Liam says. Harry wipes a stray tear rolling down his face.
“Why are you here?” Harry asks not trying to sound angry.
“I needed time to process things. I had to deal with the band breaking up and come to terms with all the changes on my own. I needed time, H. It hurt too much to see you,” Liam says sitting on the floor next to Niall.
“I needed you,” Harry says playing with a loose thread on his shorts.
“I know I wasn’t there for you,”
“But you saw him,” Harry spits back. “Every week you saw him. How could you see him but not me?”
“I don’t have an answer for you, Harry, it’s just compli-“
“It’s not complicated!” Harry shouts. It hurts his throat, and he wishes this conversation wasn’t happening while he’s in this state on his bathroom floor.
“That’s not fair,” Niall defends softly.
“No, it is,” Liam cuts in. “I deserved that,”
Harry wants to take back yelling at Liam. “I’m sorry,”
“It was easier to see him than you. I couldn’t take seeing the look on your face or hearing you cry. I just couldn’t do it, I was selfish. But I’m here now, and I’m sorry,”
“Will you stay?” Harry asks quietly, nervous.
“Always,” Liam says pulling Harry into a tight embrace. Harry thinks if he had any fluids left in his body he could cry. “How about we get you in the shower?”
“I’m about tired of hearing you boy say that to me,” Harry attempts to joke.
“Then start doing it on your own,” Niall laughs lightly. Harry reaches up behind him and turns on the hot water.
“I’ll be out in a bit,” Harry says. Neither boys make a move to get up. “I think I can bathe myself,”
“I’ll make some lunch,” Niall says helping Liam up and leaving Harry to his shower.
Harry thinks that after nine months, it should start to feel better, it should start to feel normal. And it does…sometimes. But sometimes it hits you like a ton of bricks out of nowhere. It hurts like it did the first day without him.
Harry frowns and closes his eyes to compose himself when he sees that he forgot to buy more shampoo. He really tries to control his emotions, but he can’t. He throws the empty bottle at the mirror and follows it with every other container he finds in the shower. He feels a little better when he’s out of things to throw and his throat is scratchy from screaming.
He feels just a little bit better until he realizes that he has to use something to wash his hair and body with. He looks through the cabinet next to the shower and rubs at his eyes sleepily and totally exhausted when he sees that he’s going to have to use Louis’ shower things that he left. Harry wishes he had gone shopping or sent Zayn to get him things when he saw he was running low. But he didn’t, so now he’s fresh out of the shower with clean damp hair, a washed face, and smelling just like Louis.
He stares at his reflection in the mirror and puts his weight on his hands leaning on the vanity. He sighs looking at his curls drying and falling over his shoulders. Too long, he thinks. Just right Louis would always say.
Harry puts his head in his hands because he just can’t bear looking at his reflection staring back at him anymore. Not with the tired judgmental eyes, the dark circles from lack of sleep, the worry lines on his forehead, the crinkles by his eyes from years of smiling.
Something has to change.
“Liam,” Harry calls as he walks into the kitchen in a t-shirt and jeans. They’re very uncomfortable, he hasn’t worn jeans in what feels like forever. It’s a bit suffocating.
But he can’t wear Louis’ clothes forever, especially not when he already smells like he did every time he used to get out of the shower and cuddle up to him.
“Hm?” Liam hums handing Harry a plate with a sandwich and carrots on it.
“Do you think you’d maybe be able to cut my hair?” Harry asks. Niall about drops his plate and Liam’s mouth hangs open.
“Most definitely not,” Liam finally says. Harry’s heart drops a little, he hates asking for things and getting rejected.
“Oh,” is all Harry can think to say.
“But Zayn might,” Liam says.
“Zayn might what?” Zayn walks into the kitchen from the living room. Harry hadn’t known he was here, but he isn’t surprised, the boys all have keys and they’re used to letting themselves in whenever they feel like it. Especially now. “You smell nice,”
“Don’t talk about it,” Harry mumbles.
“Harry wants to cut his hair,” Liam tells Zayn.
“Why? You love your long hair,” Zayn says twirling a curl in his fingers.
“Louis loved my long hair,” Harry says gently pulling Zayn’s hand away.
Nobody speaks for a long time. “Yeah, mate, I’ll cut your hair,” Zayn finally speaks up.
So, after working himself up to it, Harry sits in his chair in front of Zayn trying not to freak the fuck out as he hears the snip of scissors, feeling like his head gets lighter than air, and watches as the curly brown hair falls to the floor.
Harry sees one piece fall and thinks of the way Louis used to tug on his hair and play with it until he fell asleep. He hopes the boys will ignore it when tears fall to the floor alongside his hair.
🍂
“Ouch,” Harry says pulling Louis’ hand away from his hair.
“Sorry, sorry,” Louis says wiggling his hand out of Harry’s to save the hairstyle he’s working on. “Just a bit more, it has to be tight before I pull it loose,”
“It hurts,” Harry whines.
“You’re the one that asked for space buns for the concert, this is the price you pay,” Louis says tightening the second bun on the left side of his head and then pulling it loose to look more natural. “Lottie sits still for me when I do hers,”
Harry sticks his tongue out at Louis. “I should just cut my hair,”
“Absolutely not,” Louis says pinching Harry’s cheeks and kissing his lips once. “I love it too much,”
“You just like me for my hair,” Harry rolls his eyes.
“No, I don’t, I was with you when you had that horrible fringe too,” Louis says spraying Harry’s hair lightly with hairspray because he knows Harry jumps around too much on stage to forego it.
“You told me you loved my hair,” Harry pouts.
“I told you that because I love you,” Louis says.
“Two minutes to stage,” the boys hear over the intercom.
“Better get going,” Louis says taking Harry’s hands and lifting him up to stand.
“What’s the rush?” Harry asks slinging his arm around Louis’ shoulders as they walk to the stage. “Just going to be three hours of not getting to talk to each other,”
“Try to think of it as three hours of having fun on stage with our best mates, yeah?” Louis says rubbing Harry’s sides lovingly.
“Yeah, whatever, you always say that” Harry rolls his eyes and walks Louis to his spot before going to his own. He hears the crowd screaming as their intro starts and he gets in the circle for their preshow ritual. He allows himself a few more sneaky glances at Louis before they get placed to go on.
🍂
“And I’m done,” Zayn says handing Harry a mirror.
Harry looks at his reflection and sees his short hair, just curling around his ears and the nape of his neck. It hasn’t been like this in years. He tries not to feel like another part of his love has gone to waste at the hasty decision to cut it off, to get rid of the pieces he can of him that Louis has touched.
Zayn sees another light lost from his face and wishes he could go back and make sure this was really what Harry wanted.
“Is it alright?” Zayn asks carefully. Harry nods quietly and gets up to go to his room. He takes his jeans off and gets in on Louis’ side of the bed just as the boys walk in.
“We have to do something, H, you can’t go on like this forever,” Liam says sitting next to Harry on the bed.
Harry turns over and hides from the boys. He feels the bed dip as the other two boys sit with Liam. “It’s complicated,” is all Harry can say.
“I know it is,” Niall says pulling the blanket from Harry’s face. “But it’s getting too hard to watch you like this and not be able to do anything about it, we have to get you some help,”
“Don’t need help,” Harry mumbles pulling at his blanket. “I need Louis,”
“You can’t have Louis,” Zayn says trying to be firm but kind.
“Thanks, didn’t know that already,” Harry says rolling his eyes.
“Just let us set up some help or we can go see Louis, maybe that will help,” Niall says.
“Not yet,” Harry tells him but then thinks that he owes it to them to try, just a little. “Soon, though,”
“I’ll take that,” Zayn says. “But I’ll hold you to it,”
“You can stay if you want, but you have to give me my journal and pen,” Harry says pulling his head under the blankets and holding his hand out for his things. Liam hands them to him after a few moments of waiting. “Not this pen, I want my nice one,” Liam laughs and does as Harry asks.
Harry turns on his phone for light in his little hideaway and opens his journal to the pages he’s been working on for months. He listens to the boys talk and giggle with each other and he thanks God, the universe, and the heavens for them. For their company, for them never giving up on him, for being there for him, with him, even when not all of them could be there.
For the first time, Harry lets it feel complicated, he lets himself feel the anger instead of just the heartbreak. For the first time, he writes with something more than simple love and want.
***
Ten months after.
Harry turns off the alarm on his phone and tosses it on the desk. He doesn’t need to be reminded what day it is. He knows. It’s their anniversary. It was their anniversary.
Harry takes a shower, does his hair, and gets dressed in real clothes, not sweatpants.
He’s been doing better at taking care of himself. The boys still have to remind him to eat sometimes and to take him out of his house to show people that he is in fact alive.
Harry allows himself to pace the house and obsessively watch the clock for an hour. He can’t take it anymore.
“Zayn?” Harry asks when Zayn finally answers the phone. He hums in response like he’s just been woken up. “Listen I need a favor,”
“What kind of favor?” Zayn asks.
“I need you to, if you could, um, maybe take some flowers to Louis. I’m about to call the store to buy them, but I need you to get them to him,” Harry says rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “Do you think you could just make sure he gets the flowers?”
“I can,” Zayn starts. “But don’t you think you should do it yourself?”
“Yes,” Harry admits. “But I can’t, I’m not ready to see him,”
“You’re not ready or you don’t want to?” Zayn asks.
Harry runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. Both I guess,”
“Haz-“
“Will you do it or not?” Harry cuts him off frustrated.
“Yes,” Zayn sighs. “Just let me know when to go pick them up,”
Harry hangs up, frustrated and wishing he hadn’t gotten short with Zayn. He doesn’t give himself much time to be upset with himself over it and instead busies himself calling the flower shop he and Louis always used to use and pays for Louis’ favorite bouquet of flowers.
Daffodils and daisies.
Harry never thought they looked nice together, but Louis loved them because they reminded him of his sisters and being young again. Harry never really understood what he meant by that, but nevertheless, what Louis wanted, Louis got. Now is no different.
Feeling a little bit accomplished, feeling a bit like he took a step forward, Harry allows himself to sit on the couch, close his eyes, and sink back into a world where Louis never walked out of their front door.
🍂
Harry finishes his last touches on the cake before putting it in the basket and snapping it closed before Louis can get his little hands on it. He still pouts even when Harry gives him the spatula to lick. That menace.
“What are you doing?” Louis asks handing Harry the spatula back, clean of all icing.
“I’m packing things for our anniversary picnic,” Harry says with a smug smile.
“We’re going on a picnic?” Louis asks scrunching his face up. “Like in nature? Outside?”
“In the very middle of the forest,” Harry says nosing Louis’ cheek.
“But why?” Louis whines.
“Because we went to an arcade and ate pizza last year like you wanted, this is my year to plan and we are going on a picnic in the forest and you’re going to at least pretend to like it,” Harry says trying not to stomp his foot on the ground like a child.
Louis doesn’t argue with him after that, he just gets in the car and puts on the playlist that he had made for Harry after they spent the week together, with the other boys, at the bungalow when the band was first formed. Everyone thought Harry fell fast for Louis, but Louis fell harder. Every time.
Louis wonders if Harry’s gotten them lost, but eventually, he turns into a clearing in what Louis thinks is a literal forest and he wonders how Harry knows about this place.
“Okay, close your eyes,” Harry says as he excitedly hands Louis the basket and walks behind him with his hands over his eyes, guiding him forward, one turn left, one turn right and two tripped feet over fallen branches. “Oh, sorry,” Harry says every time. Louis thinks he might have done it on purpose just so he can hold him tighter.
“Here we are,” Harry says taking his hands away from Louis’ eyes and stepping aside.
Louis’ jaw drops and he knows he’s been outdone for his anniversary planning last year. Harry had been here, probably early this morning before Louis woke up, and had set up plaid blankets, pillows, fairy lights, a little teapot and cups, and the biggest bouquet of daisies and daffodils that Louis has ever seen.
He had told Harry once when they first met after they had been given flowers after an x-factor day before they were put into a band, that he loved daisies and daffodils because they reminded him of his twin baby sisters Phoebe and Daisy because that’s what his mum brought him when she brought the girls home from the hospital. Harry clung to that and ever since. Any time Harry got him flowers, it would always be daffodils and daisies. Louis thought it might be the cutest thing he’s ever noticed about his boy.
“I know it’s more my thing than yours, but I thought that maybe you’d like it,” Harry says after Louis hadn’t said anything for too long. He felt slightly embarrassed by the work he put into it.
“Haz, I love it,” Louis said still taking the scene in. His heart just about burst out of his chest when he sees the huge smile on Harry’s face.
“Yeah?” Harry asks, excitement clear on his face.
“Yeah,” Louis giggles, he can’t help it, not with Harry. “What did you pack me to eat, then?”
“Oh, Lou, you’ll love it,” Harry says pulling Louis to sit on the pillows with him and undoing the basket.
Louis thinks that it’s impossible to fall in love with someone every day, but with Harry, it’s different. Harry is like nothing he’s ever encountered before. He falls head over heels in love with Harry every day, every minute, every second. He falls in love all over again every time Harry has that silly smile on his face, every time he does something so incredibly sweet, so incredibly him. Every time Harry so much as looks his way.
Louis lets Harry have his way completely with the picnic, he does everything Harry asks him to do, he doesn’t eat the ‘next course’ as Harry says until he tells him to, he humors Harry’s every movement. He even lets Harry feed him grapes as he lays his head in Harry’s lap as he reads his book and Louis plays on his phone. He definitely doesn’t admit that he likes it.
“H?” Louis asks quietly as to not disturb the peace of nature or Harry with his reading.
“Hm?” Harry responds seconds later; he waits until he’s finished with his paragraph, so he doesn’t have to reread it.
“Read to me?” Louis asks poking the spine of Harry’s book.
“Read my book to you?” Harry asks playing with Louis’ hair the way he knows he likes.
“Mhm, just a little bit?” Louis asks sweetly.
Harry smiles down at Louis and looks back at his book, clearing his throat before he starts slowly reading to him.
“When you fall in love, it is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake, and then it subsides. And when it subsides, you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots are to become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the desire to mate every second of the day. It is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every part of your body. No … don’t blush. I am telling you some truths. For that is just being in love, which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over, when being in love has burned away,” Harry finishes as he runs a finger down the slope of Louis’ nose.
“Love and being in love are different? Is that what’s it’s saying?” Louis asks after thinking about the reading a moment.
“Yes,” Harry says. “Being in love is the intimacy, the passion, the exciting part of it. Love is what’s left after,”
“I never thought about it that way,” Louis admits. “So, you think love is what’s there when we’re fighting and after sex and during the less exciting moments of life with each other?”
“Louis De Bernières said that not me,” Harry says putting a bookmark in and setting the book down.
“You’re reading a book by a man named Louis? How sweet,” Louis teases.
Harry laughs. “Lucky coincidence,”
“What’s it called?”
“Captain Corelli’s Mandolin,”
“Sounds like something you’d like,” Louis fondly rolls his eyes. “Do you think our roots will remain tangled like he said?”
“Entwined,” Harry corrects. “And yes, I do,”
Louis thinks on the quote for a moment. “I think part of love is lying awake at night kissing each other,” Louis says matter-of-factly. Harry hums in response.
“Read me something now,” Harry says.
“Haven’t got a book,” Louis shrugs.
“Find me a good quote then,” Harry says tapping Louis’ phone on his chest.
Louis looks up quotes from books and scrolls and scrolls until he finds one he likes, one he thinks is suitable to go up against Harry’s.
“Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same,” Louis reads softly to Harry.
“Hm, Wuthering Heights. I’ve always loved the Brontë sisters,” Harry hums.
“I like that one,” Louis says. “Do you think our souls are made of the same things?”
“No,” Harry says running his hand through Louis’ hair again.
“No?” Louis asks knitting his eyebrows together.
“We’re far too different for our souls to be made of the same things, that’s what makes us so good together,”
“Well, now I have to find a new quote to read to you,” Louis says determined to find one that Harry doesn’t know already and that will fit better with who they are.
While Louis restarts his search, Harry lifts Louis’ head, puts it on a pillow, and lays down beside him on the blanket.
“I’ve never had a moment’s doubt. I love you. I believe in you completely. You are my dearest one. My reason for life,” Louis says only after he’s memorized it enough to say to Harry without looking at his phone.
Harry smiles and softly put his hand on Louis’ cheek and kisses him for all he’s worth.
Harry doesn’t tell Louis that he knows the quote is from Atonement by Ian McEwan, he doesn’t tell Louis how much he loves that he picked a quote from one of his favorite books, and he doesn’t tell Louis that he’ll think of him every time he picks that book up now.
He doesn’t tell Louis anything, he just lets them be in this moment together. He lets himself believe in Louis completely, he listens when Louis calls him his dearest one, he whispers to Louis that he loves him, and he kisses away the words the fall from Louis’ lips.
🍂
Harry is startled awake by the sound of a knock on his door. He checks his watch and mentally slaps himself for sleep away the entire morning and most of the afternoon. He jumps when he hears another knock on the door, this time louder and more impatient.
Harry knows it’s not any of the boys because they always just walk right in like it’s their house. Might as well be.
“Harry Styles?” the man says when he opens the door.
“Yes,” Harry says eyeing the vase with flowers in it. Pale pink peonies and baby’s breath. The man hands Harry the flowers and shyly asks him for his autograph, for his girlfriend he says.
Once he’s rid of the delivery man, he calls Zayn and smells the flowers. “I got the flowers to Louis, H, stop worrying,”
“Thanks, but that’s not why I’m calling. Did you send me flowers?” Harry asks cradling his phone between his shoulder and ear so that he can put the flowers on the counter.
“No, thought about it, but I didn’t want to make you sad,” Zayn says.
“Someone sent me flowers, the same flowers that Louis used to get me when he noticed if I’d been down or upset,” Harry says.
“He used to get you flowers when he noticed you were sad?” Zayn asks and Harry can imagine him shaking his head.
“Yes, I loved it,” Harry defends. “It made me feel seen,”
“Yeah, I know. I don’t know who they’re from,” Zayn says.
Harry doesn’t push for answers. He just talks to Zayn for a bit longer, to make him feel a little less lonely in the house he bought for two.
***
Twelve months after.
A few months later. A year after Louis left. Harry finds himself on the phone with Zayn again.
It’s always Zayn that comes to Harry’s rescue, it’s always Zayn that’s the first to run to his side and be there. Not that the other boys aren’t, but aside from Louis, Zayn is the one right by his side, always.
“So, I sent some songs I put together to Jeff,” Harry says after a while.
“Azoff?” Zayn asks. “What for?”
“Um, I was thinking about maybe recording them and putting an album out,” Harry admits quietly, nervously. “What do you think about that?”
Zayn doesn’t respond right away, and Harry thinks he can hear his heart beating out of his chest. “I think you should do it,”
“Yeah? Really?” Harry asks surprised.
“Yeah, H. Actually, the boys and I have all been working on some of our own stuff,” Zayn admits.
“Have you?” Harry asks. He doesn’t expect it to hurt the way that it does. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Zayn counters.
“Fair point,” Harry tries to say lightly, but the realization of the boys really all going their separate ways and making music on their own weighs him down, drags him to the bottom of the ocean. It feels like the world is crashing down on him all over again and he doesn’t know if he can take it.
“We’re still here, Harry. It’s not like making our own careers apart from each other means that we can’t be just as close as we all once were,” Zayn says as if he can read Harry’s thoughts.
“Doesn’t it though?” Harry asks trying his hardest not to cry.
“No, it just means that we’ll all have to learn how to be close in a different way,” Zayn says.
Harry tries to pretend like that’s okay with him, he pretends like it doesn’t scare him out of his mind. “Do you think you and the boys would want to go to the tattoo shop with me?”
“Today?” Zayn asks.
“Yeah, today. I made the appointment last month. I just want some moral support before we all officially split ways,”
“We aren’t splitting ways; we’re just starting off new. Of course, we’ll come with you, pick us up?”
“Yeah, I’ll see you in a bit,” Harry says.
“H?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you,”
“I love you too,”
Harry traces the lines of his Things I Can tattoo and thinks about how he should have let the fight go and not have let Louis walk out that door, right out of his life.
🍂
“How could you just let them yell at us like that?” Harry yells at Louis.
“Oh I’m sorry, did you want me to yell back at them and shove them around?” Louis yells back louder.
“I wanted you to fucking defend me! Defend us!” Harry says throwing his keys across the room.
“There’s just things we can’t do, Harry,” Louis says sounding frustrated and exhausting.
“I know that, Louis, why the hell do you think I have all these stupid fucking tattoos?” Harry shouts and immediately wishes he could swallow his words back into his mouth.
“Stupid tattoos?” Louis repeats full of spite and hurt. “Those stupid tattoos are the closest thing we get to having each other outside of this goddamn house!”
“I’m done, Louis, I can’t do it anymore,” Harry says throwing his hands up.
“What do you mean you’re done?” Louis asks grabbing Harry’s arm as he tries to walk away.
“I mean,” Harry starts, jerking his arm away from Louis. “Either we give up everything and actually give us a real shot in the real world or I can’t be with you anymore,”
“You’re giving me an ultimatum?” Louis asks shocked.
“Yes,” Harry says flatly. “Me or them,”
“You or the world more like,” Louis scoffs.
“What’s so wrong with that?” Harry asks. “I’d pick you any day, any time,”
“You’re fucking insane, Harry,” Louis shakes his head.
“So, you wouldn’t pick me,” Harry says in disbelief.
“No, Harry, I would pick you, but not when you’re standing here and tell me that I have to,” Louis says shoving his finger into Harry’s chest harshly. Harry pushes Louis back just as hard.
“I should be allowed to want a real relationship!” Harry yells.
“What the fuck is this then?” Louis screams back.
“We’re not real, Louis, we’re trapped, and I can’t do it anymore,” Harry says.
“We’re not real?” Louis scoffs. He shakes his head, grabs his keys, and opens the door.
Harry rushes to his side and wraps him in his arms scared of the thought of him walking away during a fight. They never do that. “I’m sorry, Lou, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I love you,”
Louis wiggles out of Harry’s arms and glares at him with empty eyes. “I hate you,”
Louis walks out of their front door for the last time.
Harry slept on the floor next to the front door that night.
🍂
“It looks great, H,” Liam says squeezing Harry’s shoulder.
“Why an eagle?” Niall asks inspecting it.
“Freedom and courage. Two things I never had,” Harry says looking at the large eagle that covers his Things I Cantattoo.
“Don’t say that. You have a lot of courage, Harry, you’ve gotten through this year stronger than any of us could have,” Zayn tells him. Harry nods slowly and bites the inside of his cheek thinking about what he needs to do.
“Can we go two other places? Please?” Harry asks as the boys load into his car.
“’ course,” Liam says. “Where to?”
“Just somewhere I’ve been meaning to go for a while. Been putting it off,” Harry says.
The boys wait in the car as Harry runs into a shop, gets back in the car with daisies and daffodils, and drives off again.
He’s getting nervous the closer it gets; his hands are sweaty, and his heart is racing. It feels like the drive takes years to get there.
He hasn’t been here in almost a year. It hurts just as much as it did then.
“Do you think you could just wait here for a bit?” Harry asks the boys as he parks and picks up his flowers. They all nod not sure what to say, not expecting to be here.
Harry gets out of the car and walks over to where he knows Louis will be. He’s had this place memorized for months.
“Hi, Lou, I have some things I want to say to you,” Harry starts setting the flowers down in front of him. “Don’t try to stop me,” He tries to laugh though his eyes are welling up already. He unfolds the papers that were tucked in his pocket and smooths it out on his jeans.
Harry takes a deep breath and begins to read the letter he’s been writing for almost a year now. “Lou, it’s been a month and I still can’t imagine my life without you, I don’t understand it without you. Everything hurts and nothing feels okay. Zayn and Niall won’t leave me alone. Don’t tell them, but I really don’t want them to. Liam won’t talk to me; he won’t see me. He goes and sees you though, they all do. I wish I could. I don’t think you’d really want me to right now anyway,” Harry takes a deep breath to steady himself.
“I’m sitting here where I’ve been stuck since you left, I’m still mad about that, to be honest, but I’m working on understanding. I’m trying to write my feelings down, but right now I’m irritated because every time I think of you, the stupid birds outside start chirping,” Harry looks up to listen to the birds around him now, it feels fitting. “Even though it’s over, the birds still sing for you, Lou,”
Harry sniffles once and goes back to reading. “I miss you. I can’t do life without you. I can’t sing without you. I can’t eat without you. I can’t write songs without you. I don’t want to do anything without you. I’m trying to, though, I really am,”
“That was written a month after you left. I can’t remember when this next part was written, but I do remember I wrote it because I passed out in a shop after I smelled coffee cake. Isn’t that the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard? It’s your fault, by the way,”
Harry clears his throat and continues, feeling just a bit better. “Lou, Zayn, and Niall just left; they’ve been watching me like a hawk. We went out today. I don’t think I was ready for it to be honest,”
“I was watching the leaves fall, made me think of you. That’s how I got into the shop with the coffee cake. I was chasing the autumn leaves. I was chasing you. I love the way they float around. They were so pretty, I hadn’t thought something was pretty in a long time,”
Harry takes another deep shaky breath remembering the day too well. “It made me think, though, how fast the season changed and how much time has passed already since I last saw you. I wish it was different, the way we ended. I don’t regret telling you I love you. I still do. I think I always will,”
Harry coughs to distract from the tears rolling down his cheeks. “The next letter is from seven months after you left,”
“Zayn’s letting me cuddle with him because he feels bad for me, I’m hiding my writing from him because I’m embarrassed to be writing to you again if I’m being honest,”
Harry swipes his hand over the paper a few times to get the tears off of it that fell. “Zayn painted my nails today. I felt a little better about everything until he picked out your color, our color. That silly little bottle of blue nail polish with the chip in it, do you remember?” Harry stops when his voice cracks.
“I can’t do this,” Harry says rubbing his eyes. He takes a moment to compose himself.
“I can’t read the rest of this one to you, but it talks about the night we went outside to look at the stars and how later that night I told you that you were miles away even though you weren’t. Now you are miles away and it just hurts. It feels like yesterday you were right here with me. And-and right now you are, but you’re not and I-I just can’t read the rest of this one to you right now, I’m sorry”
Harry blinks tears away and folds the letters back up and holds them in front of him. “I actually can’t read any of these right now, so I think I’ll just talk instead if that’s okay,”
Harry nods slowly until he’s ready. “On our anniversary one year, you told me the quote ‘whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same’ and you asked me if I thought our souls were made of the same things. I’d like to change my answer now because I do think our souls are made of the same things. We’re too much of the same stubborn person to not be made of the same things, but I guess you can tell me that,” Harry sinks to his knees on the ground.
“And Lou? I’ve never had a moment’s doubt. I love you. I believe in you completely. You are my dearest one. My reason for life,” Harry says.
“You said that to me too that day. I’ve never had a moment’s doubt about you. I wish I hadn’t given you an ultimatum that day. I wish I had just swallowed my pride and been okay with how we had to be,”
“I love you and I do believe in you completely. I believe in us completely. You are my dearest one, my only one, my entire being. My reason for life,”
“I miss you, Louis. I hated watching them carry you out. I miss you every damn day and I wish you would have stayed,” Harry hangs his head trying to compose himself.
“I spoke to your mum. She sent me flowers on our anniversary. They were beautiful, they were the same ones you used to get me,”
Harry lays the letters down on the grass and touches the stone tentatively. “I’m sorry I haven’t been here. I’m so sorry. I should have made you stay that day. I shouldn’t have let you get in that car knowing you were upset and in no state to drive, I should have done everything differently and I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault and it should have been me, and I know you hate me,“
“He wasn’t your fault,” Zayn says sitting next to Harry. Liam sits on his other side and Niall sits behind him rubbing his back.
“It was, I made the fight. He said he hated me, and he left, those were his last words to me,” Harry sobs into Zayn’s shirt. He holds him and tries to still his shaking shoulders.
“There was nothing you could have done. He was just as stubborn as you are, it’s not your fault. He never hated you,” Liam says taking Harry’s hand.
“Did you know he called me while he was driving? Right before the crash happened,” Niall says with a shaky voice leaning into Harry, making a group hug with Harry in the center. Surrounded by the people that carry him. “He told me what happened, told me what he said. He said he was going to buy you the entire Gucci store to apologize for what he said,” Niall says trying to laugh through his tears.
Harry cries harder and gasps for air. He crawls out of Zayn’s embrace and curls up on the grave in front of the stone.
“He said that nobody has ever meant more to him than you and that he doesn’t know how to deserve your goodness but that he was going to spend the rest of his life trying to,” Niall says. He had never gotten to tell Harry this, he didn’t want to hear it.
All the boys were crying now, watching Harry lay where Louis lay and cry until he can’t breathe.
“We love you, Harry and we’re here. He loved you more than I have ever seen someone love another person,” Liam tells him.
“Just because he isn’t here anymore doesn’t mean that he can’t live on. You have all of your memories and we have each other. We all have little parts of Louis to share,” Zayn offers.
“He’s everywhere,” Harry says in between the sobs that wrack his body. “I can’t get away from him. Everyone posts about him and pictures of the accident. Some of them blame me,”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. You loved him with your entire being and that’s enough, okay Harry? That was enough,” Liam says pulling Harry to a sitting position by his wrists.
“That was enough,” he repeats and Harry nods, just barely.
The boys sit and hold each other and cry together for the first time.
Eventually, Niall and Liam fall asleep on each other’s shoulders against the tree next to Louis, and Zayn and Harry sit in silence staring at Louis’ photo on the stone with My Dearest One written under it.
Harry looks up at the rustling trees and watches the leaves fall from above. Colors of reds, of oranges, and of yellow. “Beautiful,”
“It is,” Zayn agrees quietly.
“Louis loved autumn,”
“Louis loved you,”
“Past tense,” Harry notes.
“Frozen in time tense,” Zayn corrects.
Harry never moves on from Louis, but he does release music that screams his name over and over again and it feels better. It feels freeing in a way.
He falls in love with work and sees Louis’ family regularly along with his own. They understand that nothing can ever fill the Louis-shaped hole in his heart, in his world. He visits Louis often at first, then on special occasions, then he’s traveling too much, but he keeps a photo of them with him always.
Harry keeps Louis alive in the ways that he can. He makes it so Louis can live forever. His little peter pan, his little angel looking over him.
Harry thinks of Louis especially in the deep of autumn. He watches the leaves fall.
Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree.
Harry always did love Brontë.
The flutter she writes about reminds him of the kisses they once shared.
The leaves she writes about do speak to him; they speak the words Louis once whispered to him.
The words and memories he keeps with him stuck suspended in his memory like the autumn leaves.
🍂
Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same. – Wuthering Heights