"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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•••
They're on the couch, watching Big Brother reruns as hour-old, half empty cups of tea sit on the coffee table in front of them, cold and abandoned. Louis is curled in Harry's lap, head pillowed by Harry's chest and the big blue fleece blanket he's cocooned in. Neither of them are watching the tv, not really - Louis is drifting in and out periodically, long eyelashes fluttering against the blanket. He's so tired. Harry is watching him more than anything else, one of Louis' tiny hands in his larger ones, smoothing along his skin and cupping it in hopes of providing some kind of warmth.
"Harry," he mumbles, or at least he does in his head. Harry's eyes are still trained on the window, and it's then that Louis knows that the words never actually left his mouth. Frustrated, he tugs gently on Harry's shirt, and that definitely works because all at once Harry's full attention is on him, fingers pressing against his forehead, smoothing his hair back, cupping his jaw.
"Hey, boo," he says, enunciating each word so as to make it easier for Louis to understand. He widens his eyes a little and tilts his head, as if to ask, what's up?
Louis closes his eyes again, presses his lips together, searching the mess inside his head for the words. It doesn't take as long as it normally does. A final stroke of luck, perhaps. "Just..." he starts, fingers curling tighter around the fabric of Harry's shirt, head throbbing as he struggles to speak. "Love you." The words are slurred together and very, very quiet, but he can tell from the look on Harry's face that he understands. Weakly, he tips his head up towards Harry and Harry does the rest, pressing his trembling hands to Louis' clammy cheeks and whispering words to him that he doesn't understand, noses brushing and he blinks wearily, trying to muster up a smile of sorts but Harry just chokes out a sob and slots their mouths together.
It feels like home.
The relief he feels, though, after he finally spits out the words is the nicest thing he's felt in months, and he lets his eyes slip shut again with Harry's lips still on his. This is it, this is it, this is it, his mind chants. It's so comforting he almost doesn't feel Harry go rigid beneath him. Almost. Harry is talking, now, but there are too many words, too quick and frantic and Louis is too tired to even try to figure out what they mean. It feels like he's falling down the rabbit hole, the world around him growing darker and darker and it's too exhausting to try to pull himself out even with Harry's help. He just wants to sleep.
Home, he thinks, pressing his face into Harry's chest and breathing in deep. Home.
It doesn't end with a bang like Harry has been preparing for. It's a whimper and a soft, breathy sigh, Louis' frail chest rising once, twice, three times more and then everything is still, like the earth has stop turning on its axis.
Somehow, knowing it's coming doesn't make it any less painful. If anything, it makes it worse - like every place Louis has ever touched him is burning, flames licking hungrily at his blistering skin.
It takes him a long, long time to move, and even longer to get himself untangled from Louis because he's trying to be careful. So, so careful - don't wake Louis, don't wake Louis he thinks. His fingers shake as he dials the number - he's got it memorized at this point, he's been ready for weeks - and his voice cracks a little as he explains the situation to the operator.
Louis looks okay, at least - less tired, mouth slack. He looks like a kid again. Harry hopes he's not hurting anymore.
When the paramedics finally come, Harry is running his shaking fingers through Louis' hair, just the way he likes - liked, he reminds himself, feeling another shard of his sanity crumble to the carpet - and it almost feels like normal. Almost.
After they take him away, Harry sits on the edge of the couch, shaking hard and clutching at his knees as it sinks all the way into his very core that he's never going to see Louis ever again and he's put his fist through the drywall before his reason can catch up.
