Someone's Calling My Name (It Sounds Like You)

"Gaudiloquent."

The wind knocks off a red oak leaf from the tree. Louis idly watches as the leaf slowly and gracefully floats around before it joins the other ones on the ground. He inhales the crisp autumn air, feeling it fill his lungs. He still kind of feels like he's not really breathing.

Not since- not since then.

"It's a word that was used halfway into the sixteen hundreds, but they stopped in the early seventeen hundreds. It means, um," he pauses, trying his best to recall the meaning that he spent time trying to memorize. It's not that the meaning was hard. His memory just isn't as good as it used to be.

It takes him four slow but sure heartbeats until he remembers. "It... It means speaking joyfully or on joyful matters," He says carefully, wanting to make sure he got it right. "I thought of you when I saw it, because of how happy you were when you spoke, even when it came to the most pointless things." He looks up at Harry from where he's sitting.

Silence.

Louis doesn't know why he expects Harry to answer, but a part of him still hopes. He knows he should know better. He knows Harry doesn't speak much anymore. "But then again, I'm sure you know I think of you no matter what I do. Always have, always will."

The cold breeze makes him shiver, and he brings a pale, shaking hand to tighten the scarf around his neck so it protects him better. He knows it's not good for him to be out at this time, especially in this weather, but he misses Harry too much to care.

He focuses on breathing. In and out, inhale, exhale. He reminds himself he needs the oxygen for his body to work. He's still not sure if he wants it to.

"There was another word, uh. Apricity. A noun, I believe it was. It's meaning is the sun's warmth on a cold day." There is no sun out today. It looks like it's going to rain soon, but Louis doesn't really mind. Harry had taught him how to love the rain. But today, it's cloudy and grey and sad, like the dulled blue that the color of his eyes has turned to.

In and out, inhale, exhale.

He looks at Harry again. He wishes he could lay next to him. He wishes he could pull him as close as physically possible, to feel Harry's warm, solid body right next to him, and just sleep. Just like they used to on their breaks from when the days were too busy and the nights were too short and got too overwhelming, and when twenty-four hours were not enough time in a day to do everything they've wanted to.

"Happy birthday, Haz. Bet you thought I forgot, didn't you?" His lips curve up into a playful smile. It's small, but it's there nonetheless. "I'd never, ever forget. You're seventy-nine today, babe."

He remembers Valentine's Day after Harry had turned twenty-three. It wasn't too special, really. What made it important was that it was the last day he and Harry spent as boyfriends. He remembers the years leading up to it, too. It was always Harry's dream to start a family with him, and the day after Valentine's Day is when he took the second step.

February fifteenth, two thousand and seventeen is the day Harry Styles agreed to marry him.

He remembers how Harry's ridiculously long hair was tied back into a bun, and he remembers how bright and sparkly Harry's eyes had been, and even after all that time, there were still things about Harry he learned. He remembers thinking how effortlessly beautiful Harry was, and how he was the luckiest person in the world to have someone like him in his life.

He thought the way Harry smiled that day was what pumped through his body instead of blood.

Harry is still beautiful. There's zero doubt about that. Louis, to this day, still can't really explain it. He didn't always see the beauty in everything or everyone, but if he did, it would be because of Harry.

Harry always seemed to find beauty in all things (what's that called again, philocaly? He thinks he's seen it somewhere, he doesn't remember anymore). Harry was the sun to his earth. Harry always did his best to make others happy. Louis thinks Harry's always succeeded at that because he was so genuine about it that it was impossible to resist it. Harry always put his heart and soul into what he did, whether it was cheering someone up, singing, or just attempting to draw something as silly as a stick figure. Harry is the epitome of beauty.

Louis, on the other hand, isn't beautiful anymore. His hair is more grey than brown and his smile isn't as bright as it used to be. He's so wrinkly now, and he can't move as fast as he was able to. His eyes don't sparkle anymore. His smiles are more often than not forced, and on some days he can't even muster to smile at all. He's quiet and he's stopped trying to make people happy. He doesn't see beauty in everything, he doesn't know how to anymore. He's not beautiful.

In and out, inhale, exhale.

He frowns. He can feel Harry disapproving of his thoughts, he can hear his voice, you're so, so beautiful, Lou, don't ever say that. I love you so much, you're so beautiful. Please don't say you're not.

"I'm ready to go home." He says, to himself. He can feel Harry's frown, and he doesn't think Harry should frown. Harry deserves to be happy. Even after all this time, he's so connected to Harry that he can still feel his emotions. "I'm ready to go home."

He knows what Harry would say, and he'd be right. But Louis doesn't care much anymore.

In and out, inhale, exhale.

Louis' fingers trace the words on the gravestone.

Harry Styles 1994-2070

Proof that angels walked among humans.

He's finally going home.