The day had already been monumentally shitty. The worst of the worst days. An absolute steaming-pile-of-crap day. So, really, it was only natural to finish it with a perfect cherry on top - his call from Death-Cast.
He was alone when the unmistakabl...
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𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝙳𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟸𝟷𝚜𝚝, 𝟷𝟸:𝟷𝟿𝚙𝚖
Harry didn't remember falling asleep, but, before he knew it, he was blinking awake to the feeling of sunlight shining on his face. He was confused at first, thinking that Louis must have forgotten to shut the blinds before they went to bed, but then he slowly got his bearings and it all came flooding back.
A familiar sense of dread filled his body as he remembered the events from the night before. He was dying, and he was taking Michael and Ashton with him.
He took a shaky breath, looking down to see Louis' arms hung loosely around his waist. He glanced behind him, finding his husband still fast asleep. He gently kissed his cheek and untangled their bodies, sliding off of the couch and stretching out his achy limbs. There was no one else around, so he decided to go check on what the other boys were doing, as well as ensure that Ashton and Michael were both okay. He felt guilty for leaving them to their own devices all night, but, truth be told, he wasn't even able to cope with his own death, let alone theirs.
Harry quietly left the den and walked down the hallway towards the kitchen, following the sound of soft voices echoing from that direction. He turned the corner into the room and found Zayn, Niall, and Calum sat around the island counter, chatting casually and sipping on tea.
Niall looked up when Harry entered and smiled in greeting, waving him over as the conversation from the other two came to an abrupt stop.
"Morning, Harry." Niall poured another cup of tea and passed it to Harry as the man took a seat next to Calum. Harry accepted it gratefully, suddenly rather aware that he probably looked like shit. That was a shallow thing to worry about considering the circumstances, but he had always made a point to appear professional as much as possible. He supposed death was taking more than just his life. It was taking his dignity and his pride too.
He tried to subtly smooth down his hair as he smiled at his friend and took a long sip of the hot tea. He gently set the cup down on the counter but left his hands around it, craving the warmth of it on his cold fingers. He met Niall's gaze.
"How are Ash and Michael?"
"I checked on them about an hour ago," Zayn replied for the Irishman. "They're asleep in the garage."
Harry nodded, at least slightly comforted by the information that both boys were still alive.
"There's something you should know, though..." Niall started carefully, immediately yanking any sense of comfort out of Harry's body. He looked up, eyebrows raised, at his friend who smiled sheepishly. "I'm only telling you this so you aren't caught off guard, but Ash got into a little bit of a tussle. He's completely fine, but his face is a little... busted up."
Harry was tense as could be, staring down Niall like a hawk. "He got into a fight with Michael?"
Niall averted his gaze, scratching the back of his neck nervously. He cleared his throat and spoke so softly, Harry almost didn't understand him. But, alas, he did. No matter how much he wished he hadn't. "With Luke."
