"Stay," Harry whispers desperately, pressing his lips to Louis' temple like he can somehow ease the pain that's blooming there, but he can't make the pain stop and no matter how hard he tries he can't make Louis stay.
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{not my story}
COMPLETED
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•••
Louis is used to telling Harry everything, pressing the words into Harry's jaw or whimpering them into his mouth or crying them into his shoulder when he's embarrassed or sad or scared. There are, of course, some things Harry doesn't know, like that on that rare occasions he's awake before Harry he likes to stare at Harry's face, eyes closed and lips parted and sometimes he cries, too, because Harry is so wonderful and Louis doesn't know what force on earth decided he ever deserved someone so lovely and understanding and patient.
There are more, a few, but they're relatively unimportant things except now he's got a big secret hovering right over his heart like a butterfly, wings fluttering angrily and it's that he's starting to lose his words.
He can't... he can't explain it, because it doesn't make sense but sometimes, he'll be in the middleof a story and somehow he'll just forget as in he cannot physically nor mentally get his tongue to wrap itself around the next word and it's fucking scary. Like, he'll be telling a story about the twins or something he watched while Harry was away or a stupid joke Niall told him when he'll forget the word play or watch or even funny and he'll cut himself short, ducking his head as panic creeps up his spine and then Harry will say something that jogs his memory and he'll be able to finish his story in one piece.
It's okay. Like the doctors said - bad, but not hopeless. He repeats the words to himself over and over in his head every night until they blur together and he nearly forgets them altogether.
Staring at Harry's sleeping face, all he can think is please don't let me forget you, too.
Eventually, Harry notices. Harry notices everything.
"Harry," Louis says sharply, voice slightly panicked in a way it usually isn't. "Can't find the...the...for the car."
Harry's brow furrows as he turns to look at him, lips curving downwards into a confused frown. "Huh, baby?"
Louis hands shake as he tries to imitate the act of putting keys in the ignition. "Can't find them," he blurts, feeling more embarrassed than anything else.
"You mean the keys?" Harry asks, voice dripping with concern.
"Keys," Louis repeats, relief flooding through him so fast he thinks he might pass out. "Yeah. Keys." The word feels just as familiar as it always has, rolling easily off his tongue and he almost wants to laugh.
Harry doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to.
The look on his face tells Louis everything he needs to know.
Harry makes him a list on his phone, a little list titled Words for Lou :), all filled with words Louis has been forgetting most frequently but the list seems to be growing exponentially with every passing day, and it's a little hard to keep up.
"Did you remember to feed the...the-" Louis pauses, brow crinkling in concentration as he licks his lips and Harry feels a tidal wave of grief come crashing over him as Louis stands there, eyes narrowing even further, hands curling into tiny little fists as he struggles to find the word he's looking for.
Wrapping his arms tightly around Louis' shoulders and pressing a kiss to the top of his head that he can only hope is comforting, Harry murmurs, "The dog, love?"
Louis turns into Harry's embrace and buries his face in Harry's collarbones and Harry feels his heart sink down to his knees when he feels wetness pooling there.
"Hey," he says gently, snaking a hand between Louis' chest and his and grasping Louis' chin, forcing him to meet his eyes. Louis' eyes are glossy and rimmed red and he looks so pathetic and hopeless it's got tears prickling at Harry's own eyes. But he won't cry - not now, because this time Louis needs him to be the strong one. And he will be.
"Baby," he murmurs, walking slowly backwards until his back thumps against the wall and tugging Louis with him, sinking down to the floor so Louis can rest in the space between his legs. It's only a minute or two until Louis' sniffles stop completely, but the sensation of helplessness remains. "S'okay," he says, grabbing one of Louis' hands - so teeny tiny, he's always been; it's one of Harry's favorite things - and traces the lines of his palm until Louis has fully calmed down and is sitting upright, picking at the carpet with his free hand.
"Feel so stupid," Louis mutters, cheeks flushing as he ducks his head, almost shamefully. "All the time."
"No." Harry nearly growls it, voice going harsh in a way it normally doesn't with Louis. Louis' head snaps up at the tone in his voice, looking more than a little startled but Harry just doesn't care, because he doesn't know what to do and he fucking hates feeling helpless like this. He wants to press Louis into their mattress and whisper into his skin all the words that are running through his mind but they've got places to go and there's just no time. There never is, and his stomach lurches because they're running out of fucking time and he has so much he needs to say.
Instead, he just pulls Louis close so their faces are level, noses brushing. Their breathing is almost humorously noisy in the still, quiet of the flat. "You're not stupid," Harry insists firmly, hands holding Louis' face in place so he can't squirm away. "Never stupid, baby. Don't like hearing you say things like that." Louis' gaze lowers and Harry knows he's going to start crying again, so he kisses him before he can.
It's only a chaste brush of lips, but it's enough.
