I Want to Write You a Song

I'll Be Gone, Gone Tonight

Louis learns something today. Very rarely, moments come along in your life where time actually does stand still. You don't get to pick those moments, though. No amount of smashing clocks, or praying to a God He doesn't even believe in could have made time stop on his own terms.

It's not the good moments that stand still, or the bad moments, but the important ones. The ones that shape you into become the next version of yourself. It's like the universe wants you to soak everything in, and doesn't want something as fickle as time getting in the way of it.

Louis has his moment today. He can just feel it. Harry will have his moment today, too.

Did you know time also stands still when you're dying?

Without context, Louis and Harry would appear to be having the perfect afternoon. Louis lies with Harry in his childhood bed, with Harry tucked up into Louis chest and Louis propped up against the headboard.

A dull rain drips outside the bedside window. Louis' hand fell asleep hours ago, tangled in Harry's brown mop of curls tracing light patterns on his scalp. He couldn't will himself to move from his position though.

Anne comes in periodically to check on them throughout the day, bringing with her an endless supply of thick quilts, because Harry feels so cold.

Each time her eyes are glassy with unshed tears, but she wears a calming smile.

Every so often Harry starts shivering so hard the bed shakes. Louis just pulls him in closer to his own warmth, whispering soothing nonsense in his ear until his muscles relax again.

What's interesting is how quiet the pair are today. It's not a day filled with last minute death bed confessions, or frantic declarations of love. The boys barely have anything to say at all.

Louis doesn't know how long it is later when the rain lets up, and he realizes how painfully quiet the room is. His face goes white and he holds his breath.

"Harry?"

...

He feels his own body still. And his eyes immediately grow wet with hot thick tears.

"It's okay, Hazza. You're okay now. No more pain now," he chokes out, but mostly as a reminder to himself.

Louis knows he needs to get up now. To go get Anne. But he can't do it, he isn't ready to pull Harry's head off of his chest, or untangle his hand from Harry's hair.

So instead he reaches for his phone on the bedside table with his one free hand. He knows this isn't the way he should be telling her, but he can't think straight.

Tears distort his vision, making it hard to see what he's doing. As he types out the text, he feels the last shreds of his sanity crumble away.

To Anne: He's gone.

He puts the phone back down and begins sobbing for dear life, because this isn't real. This can't be real. Through blurry tears, Louis vaguely spots something out the window that makes him both cry harder and smile.

A bright rainbow paints the sky.