is death an option? / larry ✅

1.0

The Part Where Everything Goes To Shit

In every single story out there, there's always a part that's called the climax. The climax usually involves the protagonist running into a problem that seems like it's going to swallow them whole, their lives going down the drain in one action. In my story, I'm the protagonist, and the antagonist/problem is Louis' cancer.

But, if I'm honest, sometimes the antagonist/problem is Louis. It was utterly draining to constantly have to endure his awful attitude; to hear his angered tears that hadn't any end, all until he finally decided that he didn't want to be around Harry any longer.
Nevertheless, I stayed. He was depressing, and time–consuming, but I stayed.

I remembering trying to make him laugh by creating sounds alike to a polar bear's noise of grieving. He does, and I'm glad, but he tells me to stop shortly afterwards because it hurts him.

Throughout the weeks, I begin to notice a change within his eyes. Although one remains its cerulean, ocean–like color, the other (the right) is beginning to develop into an icy, almost milky–blue. He tells me that it's basically nothing but blur in that eye. I tell him that he's going to be like Helen Keller, soon. He calls me stupid, because Hellen Keller was not only blind, but deaf. He's wearing the glasses all the time, now, and the lenses have gotten thicker.

Sometimes I'm able to make him smile. Most times I'm not.

On the 154th day of our doomed friendship, Louis had managed to go through all 43 of me and Zayn's films. He told me his favorite had to be The Okay Bat, Bye. He said that it was rather interpretive, and the most creative thing he's ever watched. It's probably the first time that I've received a wholehearted compliment from him. I let him keep it.

I spent most of my winter in Zayn's house while his sister was away; working on Louis' film nonstop. We created sets, built animations from nothing. As I remember, it happened to be truly tiring. But, we kept at it. From the moment we returned home from school, until the point where my mother called my phone and questioned where I was, demanding that I'd come home sometime soon.

What I don't remember doing is schoolwork. Actually, I KNOW I hadn't done an ounce of work during our shooting hours. My grades gradually go down the metaphoric drain, but for some reason, it doesn't seem to bother me.

It was on Day 168 of Our Doomed Friendship that Louis revealed to me that he'd be stopping his chemotherapy. It was just after I had worked up the nerve to ask him out to prom (Which he, of course, denied, saying that he'd sooner die than attend a school function while looking like the embodiment of a human cue–ball).

The emotions that flow through me are indescribable. I'm hurt, and furious, and sad, all at the same time. I recall being able to feel my skin beginning to heat up, but I don't know how to put my feelings into words.

It's why Louis continues on with our conversation, like he HADN'T just told me that he was giving up on his life. He asks me about the movie that me and Zayn were creating; telling me that I didn't need to hide when I failed to answer, that Zayn had already told him about everything. It only proves to piss me off even further–considering that it seemed like Zayn was physically incapable of keeping anything to himself.

Finally, I'm able to conjure up words:

Me: So, you're just giving up? You just don't care about fighting anymore?

Louis: No, I really don't.

Me: You're literally just throwing your life away!

Louis: Yeah, well, you try being stuck in bed everyday with your head buried in some fucking bucket because your stomach feels like it's going to explode, and you try giving yourself bruises every single day because you can't even see straight anymore. There's no point in me doing it. It only makes me sicker.

Me: It always gets worse before it gets better, Louis.

Louis doesn't answer, and instead continues to fiddle with the light–saber that I'd seen him play with what felt like ages ago.

It only proved to make me feel even more shitty about the situation–the fact that Louis didn't seem to think that his life was of any importance. I understood that he was virtually emotionless, but I desperately wanted him to feel SOMETHING about the fact that he was simply preparing for his inevitable death.

Louis: I know who you can take to prom.

Me: Who?

Louis: *Picks up the pillow that I spoke about on the day we first hung out, transforming his voice into a thick, French accent* Oooh, my name's Emilie, and I've been waiting for a big, strong man to come and–

I don't want to write down the interaction between us that occurred when I screamed at him to stop, that it wasn't a joke. Louis immediately for defensive, and shrieked back at me that I shouldn't yell at him, because I'm not the one whose going to die. I tell him that he's consciously making the choice himself to die.

He's crying when he reveals that he knew that I never wanted to befriend him in the first place; that I was forced to hang out with him, I was forced to show him our movies, and I was forced into creating a movie for him.

In the end, he just wants me to leave. I'm disgusted with him, so I don't argue.

This is the first time that I realize that Louis Tomlinson's gross, disgusting, flesh–eating cancer was making him weak, and I didn't like it. In fact, I hated it.