hereafter; larry stylinson (bottom!louis vampire!harry) [completed]

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NOTE: let's start this off with a happy birthday to Louis !! The angel !! The legend !! So proud of how far he's come :'^)

all chapters will be sort of short, this fic is about 13K in total and I wanted to split it up for wattpad.  feel free to read the ao3 version (it's just 4 chapters, not split up like here)

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Songs:
Meet Me In The Hallway - Harry Styles
Black Beauty - Lana Del Rey
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August 6, 1759

I saw him again today. He was by the river with an elderly woman. They spoke in hushed whispers. At one moment, he laughed.

It is as warm as honey, combing over my skin and seeping into my veins. Never has a man, a woman, a human have an effect on me as such.

I look at him and wonder why I am drawn to him. He is beautiful, no doubt, but is there a reason for holding such enchantment?

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October 1985
San Francisco

Time is a prize without currency.

One can offer gold from gods, jewels from ancient tombs, original masterpieces from dead artists and none of it will convert into more seconds, minutes or days. Time. It slips from fingertips and through the dying breath from one's lips, a moment becoming a lasting memory in a foggy mind.

On one's deathbed, is it common to comb through snapshots of past instants? Wishing things had gone differently? Recollecting regrets and flashing through the memory that would be the cover photo for their biography.

There are the missed opportunities and confessions, either said in muted voices in crowded rooms or through eyes in dark closets—but time offers experiences that paint an existence. Colours, mediums and strategies that are magic of ageing, growing and evolving.

It is almost romantic. Time is chased and lost at every corner. Kissing lips and leaving behind polaroids of memories in its wake. It was the lost lover and the one that got away.

People like Harry are blessed and cursed with immortality. As others grow and die, Harry doesn't change a shade. An artifact that walked the Earth with unlimited life. Harry knows it all too well, he's frozen in time while the world goes on around him. Train tracks take over valleys, villages become cities and trees grow into skyscrapers. Worst of all, strangers become friends who become another grave in a cemetery leaving Harry to grieve for yet another person.

He slips on a crisp white button-up and tucks it into the band of his slacks, he hesitates to tie his dress shoes and reconsiders his outfit. It made his pale skin appear a little tanned, the white fabric was free of all imperfections, from a speck of dirt to a rogue drop of paint. It was custom to his exact measurements, the pants flared the slightest with gold buttons along the front pockets, matching the small detailing on the collar of his shirt. His broad shoulders fit the material snugly, the sleeves ended at his wrists and left a sliver of his tattoos visible. He checks the time, scratching his beard and deeming it too late to change.

With a last look into his closet, he considers the rack of black suit after black suit, each signifying a friend who became a victim to time. All while Harry was cruelly immune. He takes a breath and prepares himself for another night of boring small talk, interviews and posing for photographs.