Stranger

Final Part

*Harry's POV!*
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I slowly lift myself out of the hospital waiting room chair over to Mrs. Tomlinson. My knees begin to buckle as I stand, and my lips are already quivering. I can feel the tears soaking my cheeks. I don't even know what's happened but I can't stop crying.
The doctor leaves and Mrs. Tomlinson puts her head in her hands. I still can't tell what she's feeling; happiness or sadness.
I walk over closer, and pull a chair in front of her.
"What did the doctor say?" I ask, my voice comes out raspy from so much crying. I desperately need a glass of water.
Mrs. Tomlinson looks at me. My eyes meet hers, and in that second, I know what's happened. I feel my heart snap; as she says, "the surgery went well. Pefectly, actually. They got him back to the room waiting for him to wake, and the stitches on the inside tore. He bled out. I'm so sorry Harry. He didn't make it"
I stare at her, for what feels like forver. I stare and stare waiting for her to crack a smile and say she's joking and he's fine. That I'll be able to kiss him, that I'll be able to hold him. That I can love him, as he has loved me.
I rise, and I fall to the ground. And I begin to scream. I scream and scream and scream until the noise coming out of me no longer sounds human. My whole world has gone black. I can't see anything. But I stand and I run. I run until I find Louis' hospital room. The blinds are closed. I let out a sob.
I turn the door knob, and enter the room.
"Hey kid you can't be in here" the hospital worker says.
"Yes I can. I'm this boys boyfriend. I point to the body laying in the bed, but don't look. I can't bare it yet. The man nods, telling me he'll give me some time alone.
I go to the chair sitting by his bed, the one I had sat in not too long ago. But he was here, he was with me, I could touch and talk to him and he would touch and talk to me back.
I feel my tears soak the collar of my shirt as they run down my neck. I am soon sobbing, not able to breath because I am crying so hard. I grab his hand, still not looking at his face. His small, precious hand is lifeless in my palm. It's cold, but not freezing, showing he was with us not too long ago.
"I know you are listening to me. I love you with an undistinguished passion that I will never feel for anyone else. I wanted to spend everyday looking into your eyes and kissing your lips. But not even that. I wanted to hold you, hear your thoughts on politics, your new video game, and wanted to watch the seasons change with you. I wanted to love you. Just give you anything you wanted. I guess life is unfair, but this is a cruelty I cannot fathom" I feel the tears not stopping. I peel my eyes off his hand up to his wrist. Despite everything, his tattoo stands in place as expected. I don't know why I thought it'd be gone, another reminder of what's happened. I run my thumb over it. The gentleness of him still alive.
I look up to his face. And only then, do I understand what has happened.
"No. NO. NO LOUIS. No. I need you. You were mine. I...I ...was yours" I start in a scream but end in a whisper. I can't speak because he time I open my mouth a sob escapes. He looks perfect, but he always did. He was a flawless human. He could do anything and he would still be the beautiful he always was. He's so still, so unmoving. Oh, my Louis. My beautiful Louis. You are such a fantastic human, such a magnificent specimen. It should have been me, you deserved to be the one who lived.
I've always read about pain and heartbreak. In books at school, or stories from my mother and sister. But I've never experienced complete destruction. No one can explain this. No story, no words, no expression, can describe this pain. I feel the pain swallow me up. Like I'll never escape. But I don't want to leave his side. My hand still is in his, his stiff and mine shaking because of how much I am crying.
I stand, and lean over to his face. I brush the locks out of his face. This is the last time I'll ever look at him. The next time will be at his funeral, but it won't be him. He'll be gone. That will be something that looks exactly like him but will have none of the familiar-ness. I look at him, long and hard; trying to create a mental picture that will be engraved forever. I know the memories will fade, and that's what pains me. I can't handle the idea of us not together.
I clear my mind and look at him. I think of the time we were baking and he threw flour on me. I had put him on the counter and had kissed him. And kissed him more. I smile, closing my eyelids. It just makes it worse. I squeeze my eyelids together. Trying to make it better, but failing. I open my eyes again, looking at him. He looks peaceful, but not the same. He's already lost what makes him, him. His old presence exists only in my mind now. I clear my head, looking back at him, trying to absorb every detail. His long eyelashes, his parted lips, his full eyebrows, his beautiful cheekbones. I lean in, and place my tear covered lips on his forehead.
"always in my heart" I whisper. And I stand. I look at him once more, and begin to run. I sprint across town. Out of breath but my legs still carry me. I run to his house.
I stand in front of his door, and try to open it. The door knob doesn't budge, and I break the glass covering the door, walking through it. Fuck it I guess.
I run up to Louis room, and go straight to his closet. I put on his sweatshirt he wore the most; a green hoodie. It smells just like him. I lay in his bed, wrapping the covers over me, breathing in his scent. I already ache for his presence.
I stand back up, and walk back to the tattoo parlor we were at not so long ago.
I open the door, and head to the same person we had before. I lay down, without explaining why. I tell the man what I want and what had happened. He goes to work.
...
Later, at home. I sit in my room and cry. My mother has tried to comfort me but the only person I want is no longer with me. The emptiness has begun to set in. I get up to take a shower. I take off his sweatshirt, and place it on my bed. I walk into my bathroom, examining my new tattoo. It sits just on my ribs, small and delicate.
"Louis, I know we promised no more tattoos, but this was an exception. Please forgive me. I love you" I whisper, crying once more.
I stare at the small tattoo, hoping he would like it. I run my fingertips over it and smile. A small tattoo that reads the name "Louis".