"Can you shut the fuck up !!, English , do you speak English?" Harry groaned sliding his large hand down his face in frustration because of the small blue eyed boy in front of him .
"je veux aller a la maison" Louis sobbed brokenly , shoulders shak...
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Si la vie se termine toujours par la mort, alors la mort commence toujours par la vie ... une vie inimaginable et intacte ... un nouveau-né pleurant dans les bras de sa mère était la mort. la mort les a fixés dans les yeux ...
Louis knew nothing of death as the ground soaked his fathers whole being , he knew nothing of the drowning in his ears that happened every time the memories of his father race through the deepest part of his mind .
Did death relate to depression and sadness, was there a list of who was next and could if tried hard enough that list change .
"And as we lay a friend , a son , a brother and most importantly a father to rest we pray-"
grand-mère pressed to shaking fingers into the sides of louis waist , a sign of comfort , a sign that though things felt distanced and gray she was right there within that song of darkness .
Louis wondered what was the worst feeling . A child losing their father or the father never seeing their child - he imagined the pain his grand-père felt and wished that they had changed spots for the languish feeling of grief would kill the old man anyway , despair would finish him off before the age of 56 .
"Louis, quoi de plus beau le soleil ou le ciel"
père breathed through the phone , his voice soft and gentle as if any sudden outburst would disturb what ever heaven he had created between the two phone lines ... oceans apart and still he visioned himself in the same space .
"The sky ."
His father would walk the ends of earth for him , he'd fight the devil himself just to be within the same space and Louis felt as if the battle was lost - unfair and disheartening.
And as the last words were said his father's casket was slowly falling into the endless darkness.
" le faire sortir de là!" This wasn't how it was supposed to happen , this had to be some type of sick joke .
His father was so far from home and this around strange people and not in the ground of France was not his room .
"Louis ." grand-père called as the small boy held onto his black dress running towards the disappearing casket , the boys bare feet black from the mud after kicking his shoes off in fear - fear that this was it , this was where his father would lie .
How could someone stop the broken , how could someone scream at the hurt and who would dare stop a child who was heart broken .
And if Louis wanted to live within that casket with his corpse of a father no one would deny him .
"s'il vous plaît, faites-le sortir de là !"
"Papa , what if all the butterflies died ."
Ryan held onto his chest and shock " I'd die too ."
Louis looked at his father in confusion, his little feet hitting the wooden stand as he pouted his lips " you would leave me , for butterflies?"
"No I'd leave because you have already left " Ryan kissed the top of his sons head " butterfly "
Before Louis could get closer strong arms grabbed at his waist , the smell foreign and far from what he's used to .
"Louis, il est parti." Harry whispered against the crying boys ear .
Louis , he is gone .
- Why won't you do for me When all I do is for you ?
