joli | larry

chapter fourteen

Harry never liked a routine.

Once inside the small hospital room, Harry immediately moved to stand next to Louis' bed, looking down at the frail boy below him.

He was beginning to get accustomed to the repetitive beep of the heart monitor. Every night, when he closed his eyes, he prayed that the beeping would not falter, continuing on for days to come. Because the dull signal meant that Louis was still alive.

"Hello Zayn, Harry," Mark said from the uncomfortable plastic chair in the corner by Louis' bed as he reached a hand out to brush the boy's thin hair from his face. The teen shifted slightly, but his breath remained steady, and his eyes stayed shut.

"Morning," Zayn muttered, nodding at the man as he moved next to Harry. "I guess I should bring more flowers," he sighed, gently rubbing his finger across a petal of one of the wilting roses.

"He loves them... the flowers," Lottie said as she sat in the chair beside her father. "He woke up for about an hour after you left yesterday, he said the red is very pretty."

The petal broke off, landing softly in Zayn's waiting hand.

Harry crouched down to grab Louis' stuffed hedgehog, Happy, who had found residence on the cold, tile floor below. He dusted the animal off and placed him next to the sleeping boy on the stiff white bedding, letting out a breath.

It was raining outside. The low hum of the downpour caressed the small window. The gloomy spring weather matched their moods. To keep safe during the storm, the sun hid behind the vicious clouds, sleeping soundly as the rain blanketed the streets. Her rest would only be short lived, however, since she will be up bright and early tomorrow to light up the morning sky.

If only the day had the same plans for Louis.

"Mister Tomlinson?" Said a man from the doorway. Harry glanced over at the doctor, narrowing his eyes. His white coat seemed a bit tight on him, and his hair was noticeably messy. His teeth were too white, and his shoes were too new. He was overly confident for a man who has not succeeded in curing his best friend.

Mark stood up at the doctor's call, weaving his way through the crowd and the abundance of toys and gifts Louis had managed to accumulate in the quaint room.

The pair closed the door behind them as the ventilator whined.

Minutes passed by slowly, with no return of the two men. Harry had moved one of the extra chairs to the other side of Louis' bed, taking the boy's frail hand within his own. Louis' skin, once tanned and full of childhood cheer, resembled the dull color of the bedding beneath him.

Harry could not stand the silence any longer.

"I... I think I, uh, lost my phone in the waiting room," he spoke up, tapping his front pocket. "I, erm, should go get it, I guess. I'm going to grab another cuppa while I'm down there, do you, um, want anything?"

Zayn shook his head without sparing Harry a glance.

Lottie shook her head as well, looking up at the man. "I'm alright, thank you. We're not going anywhere."

Harry nodded, gently releasing Louis' dainty hand. "I'll be right, boo." He stood up slowly, bones cracking as he placed his jacket on the chair. He advanced to the exit, opening the door to the hall.

At the close sound of voices, he stopped in his tracks, turning to the sound.

"Mister Tomlinson... again, I am so sorry. No father likes to hear that their son is sick. Louis' leukemia is worsening, and there is not much more we can do. It is too late to start any type of chemotherapy, the cancer has spread too quickly. I wish we had found it sooner, but wishing will not bring us back. I'm surprised none of his previous doctors scanned for the possibility after his birth father passed from the same sickness, as no tests are in his file. Again, I am terribly sorry. I fear that Louis does not have much more time, at the most, two weeks," the doctor said, resting a comforting hand on Mark's shoulder. "It is for the best that you begin-"