"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.
-
{not my story}
COMPLETED
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•••
It's not until two weeks later when he wakes up cold and alone in bed that he remembers the note. The fucking letter.
He nearly dies tripping over his own feet on his way to the dresser, yanking out the envelope and clutching it to his chest desperately, head tilted towards the ceiling and for the first time since Louis died he feels something. Not a good something, but something nonetheless.
His hands are shaking so badly. He's scared to even look at it, scared because this is the last piece of Louis he has. That's untrue, really, because he has all Louis' clothes and pictures and his phone and his everything, but somehow this feels like it, the final nail in the coffin.
Harry's dry expression makes way for a choking sob as his eyes land on the front of the envelope - two crudely drawn stick figure boys, holding hands with a lopsided heart in between them, H + L forever!!!!!!!! scribbled in its center. Next to it is what appears to be the two said stick figures engaging in what Harry can only assume is anal sex and he can't decided whether to laugh or cry harder. Maybe both.
Before he can remove the contents of the envelope, the doorbell rings.
It takes him a long time to make his way to the door, but when he finally is able to open it after flipping all the locks with shaking fingers, Harry is surprised to find Zayn, Niall and Liam standing there, all with their left sleeves rolled up, grinning like mad and Harry wants to punch them for looking genuinely happy. He can barely remember what a smile feels like on his mouth, what it's like to not have a weight hanging heavy on his heart every second, like if he tries to just breathe for a second it's going to crush him.
What's so great? he wants to ask, doesn't. When they hold out their arms for him, he gets his answer.
Tattooed on each of their wrists is a tiny L.
It takes Harry a full ten minutes with his face buried in Liam's neck to stop crying and invite them inside. They all sit awkwardly in the sitting room, like they're not quite sure how to function without Louis. Harry understands all too well.
"D'you want us to stay?" Zayn asks in a low, level voice, like he's trying not to scare off a baby deer.
"Yeah," he says quietly, head still wrapping itself around the fact that Louis' note is in his pocket and he hasn't read it yet. "Gotta take a piss first, though."
When he's finally in the bathroom he slams the door shut and presses his back against it, heart going a million miles a minute and he's scared that any second now it's going to just stop.
With shaking fingers, he pulls it from his pocket and slips it from the envelope, unfolding it and smoothing it against his leg. Something small and square slips out - Harry leans down to grab it, lips quirking up the tiniest bit at the picture. It's one he's never seen before, probably something recent from Louis' phone. In it, they're in bed, Harry's chin resting on Louis' chest, lips pressed fondly to his collarbone and Louis is holding the camera out and grinning, all shaggy dark hair and tanned skin and bright eyes and Harry knows at once it's how Louis would want to be remembered.
