Chapter 27: XXVII
Summary:
This is the last chapter.
Thank you all so much for reading along this far, its been a journey getting here and typing the words 'The End' is always the most heart-wrenching part of finishing something....
Notes:
Song inspiration for this chapter... well there were a million songs for the whole story, but in particular:
To A Friend by Alexisonfire... this song in particular is like a really good back and forth between Louis' panicked thoughts (panic holds me like a gun, firm and steadfast, bleak and cold) and Harry's want for him to be better (You shouldn't have to fight alone, it's nobody's battle but your own)
What Now by Rihanna (because literally the words are: I found the one, he changed my life; or was it me that changed and he just happened to come at the right time?)
Also, Matt's song is One More Light by Linkin Park
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
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"Nobody died."
They were the first words that Harry had said in at least 10 minutes. Louis had been sitting on the edge of his bed fighting against the raging nausea in his stomach since Harry began his frantic google search. Somehow, against his very nature, the second that Harry had closed the door to his bedroom Louis had spilled every single detail about what had happened with Matt. He didn't know why he felt compelled, but he was aware that whatever chance he had left with Harry was probably hinging on by a thread. There was no more room for error and there was no more room for the illusion of pride, because he needed Harry and he at least owed it to Harry to be honest.
Of course, that honesty had come with a pretty fucking huge risk. Maybe a person who didn't know Louis as well as Harry did would have balked at the story. Maybe someone who felt a little less confident in Louis' honesty would have assumed that he'd been involved. That had never been an issue with Harry, though. Harry had never made assumptions based on the things he heard about Louis. Harry hadn't even hesitated on the possibility that some of this might have been Louis' fault, that Louis was being less than honest. Harry was a fucking saint. He was calm and rational where Louis was scared and panicked, and said the first thing that had to happen was that they had to find out what damage was done.
Harry had skimmed nearly every article online that might have related to it and the very best words that were out of his mouth were the ones he had just said. Nobody died. Louis wasn't an accomplice to murder and he didn't currently have a murder weapon stashed in his glovebox and that was definitely the second best news of the day.
The best news though? Well, that would have been the fact that Terri was right. Louis somehow hadn't used up his last chance and Harry had still let him into his house. Had still listened to every mistake he made since Matt had marched into the hotel room and dragged him out to his car.
Of course, needing Harry's help was only part of it. Louis couldn't ignore that. He couldn't ignore that there were a million more things that he owed to Harry.
"I think what we should do is go to the police. You didn't actually do anything, Louis, and if you tell them who did...they're not going to go after you. I know you probably don't want to turn in Matt, but he did something really wrong—what if he had killed someone and then stuck a gun in your car? He doesn't care what happens to you, Lou and I'm sorry to say it but you shouldn't care what happens to him. He'll be better off...he can get the help he needs."
Harry was saying a lot of things that were extremely valuable. Things that Louis probably really needed to hear but he couldn't hear them because there was something nagging at the back of his mind. It was throbbing like blood beneath a bruise and he couldn't pay attention to what Harry was saying because it was just pulsing against him, wearing away at him like the ocean at the shoreline. He had to get it out, put it out there in the world so that it would stop eating away at him.
But that would take courage.
Courage wasn't typically something that Louis had. His defining traits were typically cowardice, defeat, brokenness—but Terri had called him brave, and maybe that meant he could be.
Before Harry got another rational word out, Louis forced the words out of his chest.
"I should tell you something."
Harry turned around, looking away from his computer and faced Louis who was sitting cross-legged in the middle of Harry's bed, trying to hold himself together.
Harry must have known. He must have had some idea of what Louis was about to say because his eyes locked onto Louis and he pressed his lips together—like what he'd been talking about no longer mattered because all he cared about was whatever Louis was about to say.
"Tell me what?"
There was only a half a second of hesitation—just a brief consideration that Louis could just bite down on his tongue and keep it to himself—but he challenged it. He pushed past it quickly and the words fell from his lips without much purpose or expectation. He didn't get to have expectations—not anymore. He'd already ruined enough things, his only option now was transparency. He had to sit there and lay out everything bad he'd ever done for Harry and ask him to care anyway. Harry couldn't give him the answer he wanted if he didn't at least at the question.
"I love you."
Louis saw the second that the words struck Harry and the sharp inhale of breath. And really, they were just words. They weren't enough, Louis knew that, but if felt like he needed to get it out there.
Harry looked like he was searching for words. Undoubtedly, he was searching for words to tell Louis that he was flattered, really, but it wasn't the same now. Things had changed. He'd just shown up at Harry's front door with literal blood on his hands and asked him for help after he'd given nothing for weeks—for months, actually—and it wasn't the same. It couldn't be the same for Harry, not after everything and even as Louis contemplated that fact, he still didn't see a reason to stop. Harry deserved the truth.
"I was a coward," his voice was quiet, but certain in a way that the typically wasn't, "you showed me something I didn't understand. You showed me compassion and companionship and the rest of it? It all just happened without me deciding and I think that was the scariest part. You showed me something that no one in my life had ever shown me—not even my own mother—and it scared me. It scared me that I didn't know if I could trust it, I didn't know if it was going to be taken away because I don't have the best track record in getting the things I want..." he inhaled, forcing his gaze to meet Harry's, "I was a coward and you deserve better than that, I know, but I still had to tell you. Its the only thing I've thought about since that night at your mum's when you thought I was asleep—and so, I guess you already knew, but I'm telling you now because I need to. Because you deserve to know."
Still, Harry didn't speak, Louis just watched as tears welled up along his waterline.
"And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't better—that I'm still not better. I'm sorry I couldn't give you everything you needed."
Louis watched the stream of tears as they made their way down Harry's cheeks. He tracked the movement, because what else was he supposed to do? Harry wasn't saying anything it was starting to feel like someone was pressing a dull butterknife into his stomach and twisting it, trying to cause the most agony possible. Yeah, that's what it was. It was agony and Louis didn't know what he should have expected. Did he honestly think that Harry was going to jump up from his chair and scoop him into his embrace and tell him that everything was okay? That Louis had never hurt him?
Was this how Harry must have felt that night they'd been wrapped together in his room when he'd tried to tell Louis how he felt and Louis had met him with nothing but silence? Hadn't even dignified his words with a proper response? It was rotten and Louis wished that it was possible to sink slowly through the floorboards.
"Talk about bad timing," Louis said and he could feel the mournful tone to his voice. He wished he was better, stronger. He wished that he could take the sting of this rejection in stride and not get caught up in the lingering feeling of that dull knife in his stomach...but, fuck, it hurt. It hurt to sit there with his heart in his fist, trying to hand it to someone who didn't know what to do with it. Sure, there had been a time when Harry wanted to understand, when he didn't know how deep Louis' wounds were, but now wasn't that time. Now he didn't want it...he wanted something simpler and easier and Louis should have just been grateful that he was still even willing to listen, willing to help with the trouble Louis was in. He didn't have a right to want anything more.
"I'm sorry," he started to babble, words falling from his mouth because he couldn't stand the silence for another second, "I get it. I get what you're doing and I don't blame you and I'm sorry...maybe you didn't want me to say anything, but I'm trying this new thing where I'm actually honest with people. I thought that if anyone in my life deserved that, it was you. I just wanted you to know—I know it doesn't change anything. I can't expect that it would, but it's just...it felt necessary. It's just...I do, I do love you, Harry, so, so much and it's the most surprising feeling in the world. Like, in books is always grand and romantic and it's always, like, reciprocated and maybe it was naive of me to think that it would be like that in real life. In real life it's, like, so much harder, you know? It's like standing face to face with a tornado or something. It's like...scary and big and consuming. Like its all I can think about and it's terrifying. I was so terrified of this exact thing—of you not having the answer I wanted. But it's like, it took me so fucking long to understand why you were different, why you made everything in my life different and I'm sorry that I realized it too late. Maybe I loved you for a long time, but I didn't know. I didn't have anything to compare it to so I couldn't say it—I didn't know there was a word to sum up why you were the most important person in the world to me and..."
"Jesus, Louis, take a breath, would you?" Harry's voice was soft...and mirthful?
"I..." was all that Louis managed to force out of his mouth.
"It's just...I stopped letting myself believe I'd ever hear you say those things."
It kind of felt like the ceiling was crashing down on them. Louis was trapped in the most vulnerable place that he'd ever been in his life. Things were messy. They were a fucking disaster and he knew that rationally the only thing that he should have been thinking about was the gun sitting in his car and about everything that was about to happen regarding that, but...Harry. Harry was right there, finally in the same place as Louis and Louis didn't understand how he'd been away for so long. Harry was finally right there, but he was still so far away. It felt like there was a million miles between them despite the fact that either of them could have closed the gap with three small strides. That was the worst part of all. Harry was right there and there were so many tears streaming down his face and Louis couldn't do anything about it. He'd done it to him, and he was struck suddenly with the realization that he had probably been the reason many times before for Harry's tears and, fuck, he was a shit person. Scum of the earth. Was there even anything that he could say to fix things? Like, actually fix things.
"I'm sorry," Louis tried even though he knew there wasn't enough sorry in the fucking solar system to erase the things he'd done, "I'm sorry I left that night, fuck, Harry I'm sorry. I didn't think you could understand—I don't want you to be able to understand. No one should ever have to understand what it felt like to finally have you and then for everything to just crush me like that...I wanted to be enough for you. I wanted to be good and give you what you needed but I let all of the stupid things I did before you ruin my shot."
There was a small quirk to Harry's lips, despite the fact that a few tears were still running down his cheeks. Louis didn't think he'd ever seen someone who could cry so gracefully (he certainly couldn't). "I don't think I've ever heard you talk that much. And all in one go, too."
There was a teasing sort of fondness to Harry's voice and it didn't really make sense since he wasn't saying what Louis wanted him to (I love you, too) but Louis would take it. He'd take the fondness and press it to his chest and try to ignore the dull stabbing pain in his gut that was reminding him that Harry hadn't said what he was hoping for.
"I'm just done. Remember when I told you I couldn't hit bottom? I was wrong. I was so wrong. There is way worse than bottom out there, Harry. I was in my own personal hell and I should have said something to you, I shouldn't have left."
Harry was smiling now, smiling and wiping away the tears that were falling down his cheeks. Louis was mortified. He didn't understand what was so funny. He didn't get it, he was clearly not explaining himself right.
"I'm sorry, Harry, I'm sorry that I don't ever say the right thing, but I'm trying you know? I'm trying to be honest with you and..."
Now Harry was laughing, just tiny little blips of laughter that terrified Louis. What was he doing wrong? Why was Harry laughing?
"Are you seriously laughing at me?" he tried to be indignant but his voice was about two octaves too high to properly express it. The last word came out shrill and he squeaked on the last syllable.
Harry nodded, then, still wiping away the tears that were falling. Louis saw his dimple popping and it did something to his chest, he felt it lurch uncomfortably with fondness. Harry got to his feet then, finally closing those three steps that Louis had been agonizing over since he started rambling his confession. Harry placed a hand on either side of Louis' face, staring directly into his eyes.
"Yeah, I'm laughing because you actually think you need to keep talking. Like you actually think I needed to hear anything past 'I love you'," Harry smiled then and it was just so pure and honest Louis felt heat rushing under his skin, tinging his cheeks a soft pink, "and like, it's funny because you just told me there's a gun in your car and we have to go to the police and turn in your best friend because he tried to kill someone...and this really has no right to feel like the most romantic moment of my life, but you were never what I expected, Louis Tomlinson. I think the fact that you could make me laugh in a moment like this says everything that needs to be said."
With that, Harry leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Louis' lips. He pulled back way too soon, making Louis' head swim with his need for more.
"Oh, and I love you too, duh," said Harry, voice light as air, "but I think before we have a proper discussion about what that entails...we should probably deal with the gun thing."
...
There was a horrible, solid knot in Louis' stomach that weighed about five million pounds and it was all he could think about as he stood next to his car and watched as a police officer reached into his glovebox and pulled out the gun. Harry was still sitting inside of some waiting room. Louis was on his own. He'd told them everything he could think to say. The guy Matt had shot was someone they'd met a few times for drug trafficking charges and he was currently in critical condition at the hospital with charges pending that related back to the massive amounts of heroin they found on him at the time. Of course, the fact that he was a criminal didn't ease the ache in Louis' stomach, because criminal or not there was still a chance that he might die—and it was Matt's fault.
Louis had been through a lot of things involving Matt and most of them hadn't been good, but even in a moment like this one there was a sort of fierce need to defend him bubbling up on his tongue. Sure, Matt had done some awful things, but it was because of the cycle he was trapped in. It was because the system he was raised in was broken and no one had ever given him a real shot at being more than his parents. He'd never had a real chance at being a contributing member of society. He'd expressed to Louis on more than one occasion that he was destined to fall into hard drugs—they were what had killed both of his parents. They were also the only things that eased the nightmares that he was plagued with from his childhood traumas.
Yeah, it didn't make him a good person that he had relented to those demons, but Louis understood it. Maybe they weren't the same, but Louis' demons had always played nicely with Matt's—and by that he meant that they were gasoline to Matt's forest fire. They both had so many things to forget that it had become their combined mission.
Louis couldn't help the part of himself that felt like the whole thing was his fault. He couldn't turn off the nagging voice in the back of his mind that said he had changed and Matt hadn't had a choice but to change, too. There had been so many times when Louis had treaded water just well enough to keep Matt's head above water, too, and maybe he hadn't been prefect. Maybe he'd been the farthest possible thing for perfect, but he'd at least been there. He'd listened and he'd done the only things he knew how to do to keep Matt from giving up entirely. Matt hadn't been kind and maybe he'd always cared about himself more than he'd ever cared about Louis, but there had been moments. There had been moments where it felt like the world around them was collapsing and they were all that was left. There had been quiet moments where Matt had made Louis laugh and there had been moments when he'd been soft and just wanted to fall asleep to the sound of Louis reading whatever book he had on him at the time.
The thing was, nothing in the world was black and white and that was something that Louis had been learning a lot lately. No one was wholly good or wholly bad. Matt had made a lot of bad choices while operating under the assumption that it was his only option. He'd felt like he was set up to make the wrong decisions and Louis understood the need to be what people wanted to see. Wasn't that exactly the same thing he'd done with his mother? He'd wanted nothing but her attention his entire childhood and by the time he was a teenager he'd accepted that he'd never have it. He'd accepted that she'd seen something in him that he hadn't and that she was probably right. She thought he was bad, that there was something wrong with him and it had been so much easier to just give in to that assumption. It had been so much easier to go down in a fiery blaze that she couldn't ignore. It had been easier to be what people had expected of him.
The only thing that had ever changed that was Harry. Harry had just expected him to be normal, had expected him to be the same as any other lab partner. That expectation had given Louis everything he'd never had before that. For the first time in his life there was someone who didn't expect him to let them down and Louis had fought for a long time to make sure that Harry was right. He had done everything he could to make sure that he didn't let him down.
But, that familiar pull of the bad things had sucked him back in, the same as it always had. The same as they did for Matt. Louis understood the spiral...but Matt could have asked. He could have asked Louis to help him stop. He would have helped. He would have paid whatever it was he owed to the people on the streets and he would have done whatever else it was Matt asked. Louis followed easily and if Matt had ever wanted to be more than a junkie on the streets then Louis would have helped him.
After watching Louis slowly piece his life together Matt should have been inspired. He should have seen that it was possible to let things get better. Why hadn't he seen that? Why did he have to treat Louis' successes as a personal attack? Why did he have to dive deeper into the bad things to make up for the fact that Louis wasn't there anymore?
Louis had asked the officers a dozen times what was going to happen to Matt when they found him. They never gave him a direct answer. One officer just kept promising that she would get Matt the help he needed, but how did she know what he needed? He needed a lot more than detox—he needed a Terri. Maybe an army of Terri's. If Louis had demons clinging to his back and a horrible blackness that sunk into his chest he couldn't even imagine what was there for Matt. How long had it been since Matt had actually faced one of his demons instead of just numbing them until they were quiet? Did anyone even have a guess at what kind of help he needed? It wasn't about the drugs—the drugs were just a bandaid for a boy who had grown up without any other chance but to be broken.
Maybe it didn't make sense that Louis still cared. Maybe Matt had used up all of his chances and maybe he'd broken Louis' trust in a pretty major way, but Louis couldn't turn off the part of him that cared. There was a huge part of him that wanted to see Matt get better and it was pretty obvious that he wasn't going to be the one to get him there. Matt didn't respect Louis, didn't see him as anything more than a means to the wrong sort of end and Louis couldn't change that. But maybe someone else could help him. Maybe there was someone out there in the world that could show Matt that he could save himself.
Right now, though, Louis couldn't dwell on that because he didn't have anymore to dump into the void of Matt. He'd given everything he could for years and nothing had touched him, nothing had woken Matt up. If anything, the world they'd created together was just a series of Louis trying to give oxygen to someone who didn't want to breathe. Matt was too used to drowning, too used to lungs that were more than half filled with water and Louis couldn't save him.
But he could save himself.
...
Louis was sitting at a table in one of the offices, giving a statement about what he'd seen. Harry was still sitting in the waiting room and Louis wished with everything inside of him that Harry could be next to him, squeezing his hand in encouragement as hesitated on his words, but without him there, Louis had to pretend he was strong. He had to say his piece and hope that he wasn't going to get in trouble for his involvement.
"Your friend," said one of the officers (Louis had forgotten both of their names already because there were about ten million too many things happening in his head as it were), "does he abuse drugs? Do you have any idea where he might hang out?"
Louis rambled off a list of places he'd picked up Matt from in the past few months. He wasn't really sure how long he'd been in that room, but it felt like ages. He tried to imagine what Harry was going through while he sat in the waiting room. He tried not to dwell on the idea that maybe Harry had gotten freaked out by the weight of everything and ran off. Harry wasn't like that. He wasn't like Louis. He didn't run away and Louis would do well to continue to remind himself of that fact.
"Do you have any pictures of him?"
Louis nodded and started to scroll through the pictures on his phone until he came across one of Matt. She started at the picture for a moment, and something close to recognition flickered in her eyes. She'd probably seen him before, which wasn't really surprising given that he'd been in and out of trouble most of his life.
"Do you mind if I take this to show another officer?" her voice was quieter, less sure than before. Louis didn't like it.
He nodded once and watched as she left the office. He could see her through the glass as she showed the picture to one of her colleagues. They leaned close to each other and whispered a few things and Louis' palms were sweating. He wanted to leave. He wanted to be anywhere but there. He didn't want to be the only person in the world who knew who Matt was. He wished that Matt had someone else, that this could be anyone else's problem. The burden of Matt was too much to carry. It was too much when there were so many other more important things that Louis wanted to deal with.
Like the perfect curly haired boy that was sitting patiently in the waiting room and would probably sit there all night if he had to. Louis just wanted to leave. He just wanted to sleep, to feel Harry's arms around him while he did. He wanted to talk and talk until his throat was raw and he was deserving of the compassion that Harry showed to him.
Louis must have been lost in his head because, when he finally looked up there was a new officer in the room. He had a stoic expression in his eyes as he looked down at Louis. He offered his hand and Louis took it cautiously, not even bothering to listen to his name as he introduced himself. There was a somber feeling to the room and it was sinking slowly into Louis' spine, leaving an unsettling cold inside of him. Something wasn't right. Someone handed him his phone and he pocketed it, not breaking his eye contact with the new officer.
"Louis, when was the last time you spoke to your friend?"
It felt like it was weeks ago, was it even possible that the answer he was about to give made any sense?
"Yesterday."
The officer nodded and exchanged a glance with the lady Louis had been speaking to just moments before. He looked back at Louis then, placing a gentile hand on his shoulder.
"I'm going to ask you to do something really difficult for me, Louis," he started and Louis didn't like where this was going at all. He felt like all the sound was draining out of the scene around him. He was trapped underwater. He could see the people around him, was aware they were speaking but he couldn't hear it. He could just see the officer's lips moving. He wished he couldn't tell what the words were that he was saying...but he understood.
"We found someone this morning that matches the picture you showed us. He didn't have any sort of ID on him and he doesn't match the description of anyone who's currently missing. He was found in a bathroom stall in the train station."
The office tightened his grip on Louis' shoulder...but this couldn't be going where it felt like it was going, could it?
"A cleaner found him. I'm so sorry, Louis. He overdosed. They found him too late. He choked."
"Choked on what?" Louis felt angry. These people didn't know him and they didn't know Matt and there was just no way this was real life. There was no way that he was sat in the middle of a police station while they told him Matt was dead. There was just no fucking way that this was real life. Fuck what they were saying. Fuck it. They were wrong, because if they found some junkie in the bathroom stall at the train station? Well it wasn't his junkie friend. It wasn't Matt. It wasn't possible. That wasn't how life worked. They were wrong and Louis had to tell them they were wrong.
"He choked on his vomit," the officer said and Louis wanted to scream. He wanted them to know that this wasn't real and they were wrong because there was no way that Matt would go out like that. It wasn't how this was supposed to go. Matt was supposed to get the help he needed, just like Harry had said, just like the officer had said. He wasn't dead. There was no way he was dead, he'd survived too much for too long to just end up in a bathroom stall in a train station choking on his own vomit. It wasn't possible that he was sitting in a drawer in the morgue with a label of John Doe slapped on him. There was just no possible way that this was real life. There was no way that he'd been found like just another anonymous piece of junkie garbage in a fucking train station. He wasn't just another piece of anonymous garbage. He was a person. A person who had survived for too long to end in such a fucking classless way. There was no way. There was just no way.
"I'm so sorry, Louis. I know this must be upsetting for you."
"You're wrong," Louis' voice was angry, "it's not him."
"I want to take you across the street to the hospital. I want to show him to you so we can clear this up. I want to put a name to him so that he can get the closure that he needs. So his family can get the closure they need."
...
The room was silent and smelled of bleach and chemicals. The air was cold and sterile and Louis' shoes made too much nose as he walked into the room. The officer shut the door behind them and the loud clicking sound seemed to reverberate in his ears one too many decibels too loud. The room was too big to hold all it was holding. The walls were white and there was nothing around them but the lights on the ceiling and an old man in a while coat. The coroner. He had a white moustache and a (probably permanent) forlorn look in his eyes. The only other thing in the room besides the three of them and the unnerving silence, was a metal table with a white sheet draped over it. The shape under the sheet was pretty self-explanatory. Louis knew there was a body under it.
It wasn't Matt, though, and as soon as they lifted the sheet to show him, he would be able to tell them that. He could tell them that he was really sorry for whoever it was, but that it wasn't his friend. He wished Harry was there. He wished he would have pressed harder when they said it was against policy to let anyone else into the room. He needed Harry. But maybe that was irrelevant because Louis didn't need to plan to need Harry because it wasn't even Matt. It wasn't Matt under that sheet and the sooner they pulled it back and showed him whoever it was, the sooner he could tell them that. The sooner they could start checking all of his usual hang outs and the sooner this whole thing could be behind him. Louis just wanted to be done with this.
Selfishly, he wanted to be done with Matt. Maybe that was cruel and of him, but it was pretty obvious that they weren't good for each other. Louis wasn't enough for Matt, he didn't give him the desire to get better. Matt needed that. He needed someone that inspired his recovery and that wasn't Louis. They were bad together.
"You don't have to look for long if you don't want to. I just need you to tell me if it's him," the officer's voice was too loud. His words were irrelevant because it didn't matter how long Louis stared at the body, it wasn't suddenly going to become Matt.
The coroner took four strides toward the top of the table, his boots clicking loudly with the movement. He grabbed the sheet then, pulling it slowly down to reveal mousy blonde hair and a face that Louis did recognize. A face he recognized very well and fuck.
Fuck.
He was wrong. He was wrong and he felt his knees giving out. His chest was empty, void of all the blackness that was normally there, because sitting on that cold metal table was the person who gave that blackness to him. Louis was screaming. He didn't really know what he was saying, but he had fallen to the floor. The guilt was unimaginable. There could have been no way in the world for him to prepare for this. There was nothing that anyone could say to erase the fact that Matt was laying dead on a table in front of him and it was his fault. It was all Louis' fault .
He should have been better. He never should have fuelled Matt's spirals. He'd funded them all and he'd chosen getting better over Matt. He'd given Matt no other choice but to decay in the only life he knew because Louis had seen a light. He'd been lucky enough to have the bottom of his life fall out from underneath him and he'd gained perspective. He'd been selfish and instead of sharing his perspective with Matt, instead of encouraging him to get better, he'd prioritized himself. He'd sentenced Matt to death so that he could have a shot at his own life.
There was nothing out there in the world that could ever numb the guilt that he was feeling.
The world around him started to shut down. He lost sight of everything around him and watched as the old man wheeled the table out of the room. Matt was gone. He was really gone and he'd never ever be able to cause any damage in Louis' life again. Louis couldn't save him. He couldn't save him because it was already too late. He'd already done too much. He was all Matt had ever had and he'd fucked it up. He'd shown Matt that he didn't care. He'd shown him that there wasn't such a thing a love in the world.
The officer was talking to him, he could hear the sound of a voice bouncing off the walls but he couldn't get up. He was pooled on the floor and he didn't want to move because the guilt would surely snap whatever was left of his spine. He'd done this. He'd let this happen.
Get the fuck out of my car.
Those would forever be the last words he'd said to Matt. They would forever be the last nail in Matt's coffin because he'd needed Louis and Louis had proven for the millionth time that he was disposable. That there was no such thing as kindness in a world that had fucked him over since birth. Louis was no exception. He was no different than all of the people in Matt's life who had hurt him the most. Louis had hurt him over and over, had let him down, at left him stranded and Matt kept coming back. He kept giving Louis chances to prove that not everyone in the world wanted to hurt him. He had never given another person a chance like he'd done with Louis, but Louis hadn't even seen it for what it was. He hadn't even appreciated the opportunities, the strength it must have taken for Matt to keep coming back time after time.
No, instead, Louis had just kept breaking him. He hadn't shown that he'd cared. Matt had been screaming at him that he was sick for years. That he didn't have any interest in living and all Louis had done was hand him a knife. All he'd done for years was give Matt the means for a slow and painful suicide.
...
When Louis finally opened his eyes, it was because he felt arms wrapping around him. There was a soft voice that he recognized, that grounded him and finally woke him up to his surroundings. There was warm breaths against his neck, a steady heartbeat from a chest that was pressed tightly to his side. He took a deep breath in, Harry. Harry's scent flooded him and he looked around the room. It was empty now. All he could hear was Harry's breathing and his own breathing and the metal table where his friend was laying dead was long gone. He didn't know how long he'd been wrapped up on the floor, but it had been long enough for someone to bring Harry there.
"He's dead," Louis' own voice sounded like that of a stranger.
Harry held him tighter, "I'm so sorry, Lou."
Louis swallowed the bile in his throat. He kind of wanted to throw up. He wasn't crying. He hadn't really cried at all, but this was worse. Whatever it was that was slowing breaking him down from the inside out? It was far worse than just garden variety grief. He wasn't even properly sad. He couldn't be sad because even though 'broken' had been a state that he'd spent most of his life in and out of, now it was worse. Now he was actually breaking. Now he could feel everything inside of him shutting down because no one could live through something like this. No one could just carry on with this much guilt weighing them down. He was surprised he hadn't fallen straight through the floor and directly into hell. There just wasn't enough space in that tiny room to hold all of the things he was feeling.
"Aren't you glad?" that was all he could think to say. Anger was so much easier. It was so much easier to be mad at the rest of the world because he couldn't be mad at Matt anymore. He couldn't be mad at himself because it was pointless.
"Lou, baby," Harry's voice was so soft, so broken and so fucking calm.
"He was trash, wasn't he? Just another nameless junkie they stuffed into a drawer next to the other six they found this week. Nobody fucking cares, nobody ever fucking cared."
"I care," said Harry and Louis didn't want to believe him. He wanted to be mad because it was easier. He couldn't be mad at Harry, though and he hated it because Harry's words were so honest that they finally broke the levies inside of Louis and tears started to pour from his eyes.
"I thought you'd be glad. I thought you'd be happy you don't have to deal with him anymore."
Harry didn't say a word. He didn't need to because Louis knew that wasn't what he wanted. He knew Harry wasn't glad because Harry could never be glad about another person's pain. It wasn't in his nature.
"I shouldn't be sad," Louis choked on his tears while he tried to speak, "he tried to hurt me. He did hurt me, so much and I should be glad, shouldn't I? He can't keep dragging me into the darkness and I should be happy."
"Of course not," Harry's voice was so vital as Louis tried to remember how to breathe. As he held Harry's t-shirt between his fists and left a tear-stained path across his shoulders and neck. Everything was falling apart inside of him but Harry was making it feel okay. How did he do that? "he was your friend. I'm so fucking sorry, Lou. I'm so sorry that there's nothing I can say to make it better."
...
Harry parked the car outside of the front door and looked over to Louis. Neither of them had said anything since they'd left the morgue. Louis didn't have anything else to say. He didn't want to explain to Harry that it was all his fault. He didn't want to remind Harry that he was a bad person and that all he'd ever done for Matt was give him the things he needed to hurt himself. Harry took his hand from the steering wheel and placed it on Louis' cheek.
"Stay with me?" he asked softly, "we can pack you some clothes and you can stay at mine. Please."
Louis was nodding because, yeah. He didn't want to be away from Harry. He didn't want to know what it would feel like if he wasn't there to hold Louis together. The whole thing had a sort of finality to it and he couldn't believe that just like that, it was all over. He'd never have to look down at an unknown number on his phone and know exactly who it was. He'd never have to drag Matt out of a drug house and he'd never have to pay off the people he owed. It was all over. That whole part of his life was gone and...it was better, wasn't it?
That made Louis horrible. It made him the absolute worst person in the world for ever thinking such a thing. His selfishness knew no bounds and what if Harry saw that? What would he think of him? Matt was supposed to be his friend. It shouldn't feel like a breath of fresh air to know that what they had was done. It shouldn't feel like he could finally breathe again.
Harry's thumb stroked his cheek gently as he spoke, "I'm gonna pack you some things, do you want to wait here or do you want to help?"
The thought of sitting alone in his car, in the very seat where Matt had been sitting the last time he'd seen him—when he'd told him to get the fuck out—was too much. He couldn't wait for Harry. He couldn't be alone.
"I want to stay with you," his voice was soft.
"Of course," responded Harry and before Louis could even think about moving, his door was being opened and Harry was helping him out. He kind of felt like an invalid. Like Harry was doing all the work for him and he wished he could do better. He wished that he wasn't crumbling with crisis and that he could be brave and strong in all the ways that Harry was trying to be for him.
Harry held his hand as they walked through the front door. He wasn't hesitant. There was no deliberation at all as to whether or not he ought to be walking through the front door of Louis' house with Louis' hand in his. Brave. Harry was brave and he wasn't afraid at all of what was behind the door. They were barely inside before his mother appeared before them. She looked more rested, like she was no longer losing sleep. Louis didn't know whether that was to his credit or if it was something else entirely.
She watched them, a hint of curiosity in her eyes as her gaze lingered on where their hands were joined. Harry didn't back down. He didn't try to dart up the stairs and avoid the conversation he knew his mother was about to start.
"Harry," she said, her voice mildly intrigued, "I see you found Louis."
Right. Because Louis was shit. Because he'd been spiralling while Harry kept stopping by his house looking for him. Scum.
"Louis found me," he corrected, hand still firmly holding onto Louis'.
"I'm glad," she said, eyes still on them. Her gaze drifted to Louis then, her head tilting to the side, "what's wrong?"
In another universe, maybe Louis could have answered. Maybe he would have had the words to say to her, but after all the times that they'd fought about Matt. After all the times she'd told him just what she thought of Louis' friend, he decided that she didn't deserve his honesty. She didn't deserve to know what was going on because she wouldn't care. She wouldn't care the same way that Harry did and that was unacceptable. She didn't deserve to know about Louis' grief because she wouldn't know how to handle it.
"Louis is going to stay with me for a bit."
Harry answered the question for him and there was a sort of protectiveness laced with the respectful way he addressed Louis' mum. He was always polite, but now he was politely telling Louis' mum that she couldn't take care of him, that it was his job now. Louis' heart hummed in his chest and he squeezed Harry's hand, a quiet 'thank-you' for being stronger than he could be.
"Why?" her voice was quiet, submissive in a way that it had never been. She was submitting to Harry's strength and Louis didn't understand how one bad thing happening to him had somehow upset the balance of the actual entire universe.
"I think, when he's ready, Louis should be the one that explains that to you," Harry's tone was still respectful but he left no room for her to press. He made it clear that he was taking care of Louis and that she didn't need to know anything about why if Louis didn't want her to.
"Louis?" she asked, her gaze flicking back and forth between them. She couldn't keep up. She'd never been dethroned in her own house before.
Louis was weaker than Harry. He couldn't leave her words hanging without an explanation.
"Matt died."
...
Louis had spent the last couple of days in a sort of daze. He'd been quietly lead around Harry's flat by his hand. Niall had hugged him a few times, murmuring sympathy and Zayn had come around to apologize for being hard on him. Liam had been there a lot too, they all kind of orbited around Louis quietly, offering sympathy and kind words. Everyone was afraid to step too heavily near him. They all kept their distance while trying to remain there. It was a strange sensation after being so overlooked for so long to suddenly have so many people tending to him, but he took it in stride.
For the most part, he was pretty 'together' about the whole thing. Harry had noted on more than one occasion that he hadn't even cried since they had left the morgue. It wasn't really surprising, though, given the complicated set of emotions he was rotating through concerning Matt.
Most notably there was the guilt. The guilt he'd finally admitted to while Harry was tucking him into bed the previous night.
"How are you, Lou?" he'd asked.
"Bad," Louis' voice had broken on the word, betraying just how 'bad' he felt.
"Oh, baby," Harry's calm voice coaxed more words out of him despite the fact that he had been primarily silent since they'd walked into Harry's flat.
"Its my fault, you know."
Of course Harry had disagreed. Of course Louis had rejected his disagreement because it was his fault. there wasn't enough kind words in the world to erase the damage that Louis had done. Matt had died and it was his fault. It was simple math.
Now, though, Harry was sliding his arm through Louis' and leading him from Marsha and through the quiet cemetery. Nobody was there. There was just a casket laying next to a hole in the ground and a minister waiting for people to arrive. Harry kept his arm linked through Louis' as they came to a stop next to the casket. It was pretty and overdone and it screamed of his mother's influence. There had been no one to take care of things for Matt and if she hadn't stepped in, there wouldn't have been a funeral at all. It didn't make sense that she'd done all of this. It didn't make sense that she had arranged this whole thing for someone that she hated so whole heartedly for so long.
He and Harry were probably going to be the only people there. The minister didn't really have to wait the extra five minutes to see if anyone else would arrive. Harry traced a soft finger over Louis' lips, watching to make sure he didn't fall apart as he stared at the box that was currently holding his friend.
"I don't believe in God, you know," Louis said and it was out of place, but he couldn't understand what kind of minister showed up to a funeral for a fucked up kid who had grown into a junkie adult and tried to kill someone. It didn't make sense. Forgiveness only went so far.
"Did he?" asked Harry softly. Harry hadn't wavered for a second. Not one bit of the disdain that Louis knew he'd felt for Matt had slipped through in the past couple of days. He'd been nothing but steadfast and loyal, asking the appropriate questions at the appropriate times and genuinely excelling at being there. Louis was undeserving, especially since he was responsible for more than a few of the nails in the coffin in front of them.
"I don't know," admitted Louis, "I never asked him."
He tightened his grip on Louis' arm, leaning down to whisper into Louis' ear, "maybe he did. People say that God can forgive anything," he kissed Louis' temple softly, "maybe one day you can forgive yourself. I think Matt would want that."
The words settled into Louis' chest. He couldn't imagine a world in which he woke up and was just okay with the decisions he'd made. He couldn't imagine ever not thinking about the person in front of him and what he'd done to bury him. He didn't feel much like forgiving himself.
He didn't answer Harry. He didn't have to. Harry knew he wasn't ready to even entertain the idea of forgiving himself.
"Tommo," it was Niall's voice. Louis became aware, then, of the footsteps behind him. He turned to see Niall, Zayn and Liam walking over to them. Zayn had a bunch of flowers in his hand and he gave Louis' free hand a quick squeeze before he laid them on the coffin. None of them had even met Matt. It didn't make sense for them to be there, but there they were, lining up behind Harry and Louis.
Then, moments later when he got lost in staring at the minister, trying to understand what he would think if he knew the whole situation, he felt another hand on his shoulder. He turned then, looking up at the calm blue eyes that had been grounding him in reality for months. Terri smiled at him and said some things, but he didn't really listen. He was too caught up in how vital it felt that she was there. In one of his worst moments, she'd come to him. Louis' heart was swelling in his chest with fondness for the people who had come in his darkest hour to stand next to him while he buried his best friend. It didn't feel right to find such an amount of joy in such a dark moment, but the scales tipped then.
"Louis," he heard Lottie first and then felt her wrapping her arm around his free one. She leaned her head on his shoulder, taking his hand in hers, not saying anything more. He was only just about to question how she'd gotten there when he looked over her shoulder to meet his mother's eyes.
Yeah, it was possible to feel joy even in the worst moment of his life. It was possible and his chest was bursting with fondness for all of the people who were surrounding him. None of them were there for Matt. They were all there for Louis and while there was a bit of an empty echo at the reminder that Louis was still all that Matt had, there was also a warm sensation with the knowledge that Matt was not all that Louis had.
...
Everyone else had migrated back toward the parking lot and Louis was staring at the hole in the ground where Matt was going to spend the rest of eternity. It was an ominous thought and it was intensified by the fact that this was the first time Harry had left him alone since the morgue. It had been at Louis' request, though. He'd wanted a moment to gather his thoughts on the whole thing. He wanted to go over and over in his head the things that that minister had said. He wanted to analyze whether it was heaven or hell where Matt was going to end up—even though he believed in neither. There was a pang of jealousy in him for people who believed in God. It must have been so much simpler to sort through grief with the internal assurance that you knew where your loved ones were going.
"How are you feeling?"
Suddenly, Louis wasn't alone. His mother was standing next to him. They were the first words she'd said to him since Harry had packed his things and swept him away from their house. They might have been the first words, but it wasn't the first way she'd shown that she was trying. The whole funeral had been her planning, her funding. Louis would have just let the authorities do whatever it was they did with people who didn't have families, but his mother had been firm in her desire to help. In her certainty that Louis needed this, this closure.
"You didn't even like him," were the words that he picked, still staring into the hole and not even risking a tiny glance at her, "I don't get why you did this."
"Funerals aren't for the dead, Louis, they're for the living. They're for the people who are left behind and I might have had a strong opinion about Matthew, but that doesn't matter. He was your friend. He was a person. You both deserved this."
"You never got it. You never got why I wanted to be around him," apparently since that day he'd broken his silence with Harry, Louis had become an expert at spewing words as he felt them, "But we grew up the same way. He was in foster care. He never had a family. No one saw him. No one gave him attention and he always had to take care of himself...and me? I grew up right in the middle of a giant house and a giant family, but it was the same. No one ever saw me. No one ever loved me."
"Louis," she protested, but he continued.
"You never saw me. You never loved me."
"Of course I saw you," her voice cut in, no bite to it. It sounded like she was crying...but that wasn't possible. His mother was made of stone, unmovable, emotionless—especially when it came to Louis.
"I needed you, you know?" Louis continued to stare into the ground, but he wasn't even looking anymore. He was just trying to keep his eyes focused anywhere but on his mother, "I needed you to tell me who to be. I needed you to be my parent, but you were never there. You left me behind, and I couldn't make sense of it because it didn't make any sense. What one earth could a child have ever done to you that you couldn't forgive? Why couldn't you forgive me?"
"Because there was nothing to forgive, Louis. You didn't do anything wrong."
"I lived my whole life believing that no one would ever love me. You did that. You made me believe there was something wrong with me. You made me feel so fucking broken all the time and I started looking for reasons for you to hate me, just so it made sense. If I kept fucking up at least it made sense why you didn't love me."
"I can't say anything to take that away. I can't tell you what you feel is wrong...but you're wrong, Louis. I always loved you, but you were so much like me. I didn't want you to go through the things I did."
Her words were just that. They were just words and maybe Terri was right. Maybe there was nothing in the world that his mother could say that would change anything. He didn't want that to be the case. He wanted things to be different. He wanted things to be good. Things were so good everywhere else in his life, why couldn't he just have this? Why couldn't he have his mother, too? Why didn't it feel like she was giving him the answer he needed? Why wasn't it erasing all the left-over pain in his chest?
"I never told you about your father," his mum was talking again, and it was unprompted. Louis didn't know what to do with that. No, she hadn't ever told him about his father. All he knew was his name and the random bits of information his Gran had given him when he'd questioned her as a kid.
"We met about a year and a half before you were born. He was...bad," there was a bit of a painful note to her voice, "he wasn't abusive or anything like that, but I almost think that might have been easier. He was manipulative and controlling and I didn't see it for a long time. I didn't see the power he had over me and I didn't understand that nothing we did was what I wanted. He was mostly just in it for your grandfather's money. We got married three months after we met and I thought he loved me—but he loved the idea of me. He loved that he had all the power and that I could give him everything he wanted. When I kicked him out, when you were a baby, I swore to myself that I'd never let another person like that close to us. I'd never let someone have that kind of power over me. I never wanted to be weak like that again. I think I was wrong in assuming that compassion was weakness. I wasn't a good parent to you. I wasn't compassionate, I was complacent and I tried to let my parents take over and I made it my mission to do a better job with everyone that came after you. That was wrong. I should have fought to be better for you, too, because you deserve that Louis. I took the easy way out and I could apologize for that, but I don't think you should accept my apology. I think you should make your own decision on what role you want me to play going forward. I'd like to know you, though, Louis because there's a whole bunch of people over there who saw something in you that I was too scared to see. You're brilliant and I didn't have any part in that and I have to live with that every day. That's a kind of pain I don't ever want you to know."
Maybe she was right. Maybe he didn't owe her anything, but he wanted something more from her, "I want you to be a part of my life," the admission made him feel naked, "I've always wanted that. People have told me I shouldn't, that you don't deserve it, but I want you to be my mum."
...
Louis dangled his feet off the edge of Harry's bed, watching them as they swung back and forth. Harry was standing in front of his wardrobe undoing his tie. Louis was still kind of in the same strange place he'd spent the last couple of days, but he was also kind of relieved that it was over. He could try, now, to sort things out. He could try to function without the confusing grief that had been weighing on him.
Harry turned to him, then, his white shirt unbuttoned halfway and his hair tousled from the rain and the wind at the cemetery. He was still beautiful. He was always beautiful.
"This might be colossally bad timing," Harry's words were slow, they were always slow. They were a steady rhythm that Louis had never needed to question. Harry would always talk and his words would always ease whatever turmoil there was inside of Louis, "but...if I've learned anything in our time together it's that there might never be good timing, so I'm taking it in stride," he tried a tentative smile and Louis answered without a hint of hesitation. Harry took this as a sign to plow forward, "can we...talk about us?"
Louis patted the spot on the bed next to him, "yes."
Harry let out a sigh of relief, taking his place next to Louis without hesitation, "I know what I want," he started, "I knew what I wanted when I first thought you were trying to flirt with me when you called me Curly."
Louis felt like his smile might be permanent. It felt like, if he was able to smile after the day he'd been through, that maybe Harry could make him smile through anything. That felt big and important, "tell me," Louis urged, "tell me what you want."
Harry slid his hand onto Louis' lap, capturing his hand and holding fast, "I want this. I want you. I want all of you all the time and I want you to believe me when I say that. I want you to understand that even though shitty things happened before me that I'm never going to be those shitty things. I'm never going to take you for granted and I'm never going to care that you're rich and I'm never going to do anything to push you away. I just want this. I want to take care of you and when shitty things happen to me, I want you to be the one who takes care of me. It's okay if you need me more right now. That doesn't mean that I'm not going to need you more one day. I just want you, Lou, whatever you want to give me, but I don't just want to be your friend."
Louis was still smiling, but there was a nagging blackness that wanted to sink into his chest. He fought against it and tried to keep talking, "I want all of that, too," he said, leaning his head onto Harry's shoulder, "but it's not going to be easy. I have made a lot of mistakes and I'm still, like, paying for them. I want to be able to give you everything, I really do, but it's not going to be perfect. I have a lot of shame over the things I did before you and it's not just going to go away. What happened that night...it's probably going to happen again. A lot of times and it's not really fair of me to ask you to deal with that, they aren't your mistakes."
"They aren't your mistakes, either, Louis. If other people hurt you, that's not your fault. Let me be the one that shows you how fucking beautiful and perfect you are. I don't care how slow you want to go, Louis, just as long as I get to have you."
"Curly?"
"Cheekbones?"
"Thank you," started Louis, "for everything. For every single thing you've ever done for me. For buying me a tea in class and for letting me read you poetry. Thank you for loving me, for showing me that there were things to love about me. I needed you so much." Louis pressed his lips against Harry's neck.
Harry hugged Louis closer to him, "Louis?" he asked softly.
"Yes, love?"
He felt Harry's lips smiling against his temple, where he laid a kiss before speaking again, "I want...to start over with you. I want you to see how strong you are. I want you to see that you can stand on your own, right next to me."
Louis was silent because he didn't know what Harry meant by his words.
"I applied to school in Manchester," Harry said, his voice soft, "and I think with everything, with Matt, with your mum, I think maybe it could be good to take a step back. To prove to yourself that you are as strong as I've always seen you. I want you to come with me."
...
It was the last day of exams before summer started. Louis had just finished placing the his last box in the back of the moving van that was full of his, Harry and Niall's things. He'd helped Harry and Niall move that last few things out of their flat that morning, and then he'd dropped off Harry to his last exam. There was a sort of peace settling inside of Louis despite the fact that it was a day of 'lasts'. That morning had been the last time he was going to wake up in Harry's stuffy little flat and it was the last time he was going to climb the giant staircase to his bedroom. The previous day had been the last shift Harry would work at Starbucks, and it had been the last time Louis would get to drag Lottie along to surprise Harry during his shift. It was also the last time that Harry got to attempt (and fail) to recreate Lottie's dramatic drink order.
That day, though, while Harry wrote his last final exam, it was also going to be the last time that Louis went to see Terri. It didn't feel real. It didn't feel like he had stopped needing her and he'd balked two months ago when she suggested that they stop seeing each other twice a week. She'd dropped their sessions down to one per week and Louis had tried to fight it, but he'd lost. She'd been insistent that he didn't need her the way he once had.
Louis didn't believe that, but he'd stopped fighting her.
Over the past few months Louis' life had changed a lot. All of it was for the better. He'd managed to catch up in all of his classes and had been a shoe-in to the English programme he was planning to take in Manchester in the fall. For the summer, he was going to stay with Harry at Anne and Robin's house. There was a sort of bittersweet feeling to giving up the life they'd made in Doncaster, but Niall wasn't going to be far. He was spending the summer in Holmes Chapel as well and they'd calculated the distance from Harry's mum's to Zayn's and there would be plenty of visits. Doncaster would always be the place he'd spent most of his life, but it wasn't his home. Not anymore, because Louis had learned that 'home' could have another meaning entirely. Home wasn't just a place where you ate and slept. Home was green eyes and goofy smiles that were all dimples. Home was not a place at all, really. Home was Harry and wherever Harry went, that would be Louis' home.
Just as he slid the back of the moving van closed and stared back at the giant swooping mansion he was giving up for a tiny bedroom in an even tinier village, the door opened. Louis' mother walked toward the front steps and took a seat on them, patting the spot next to her. Louis locked the back of the van and climbed the stairs to sit next to his mother.
"You're really leaving," her voice was soft. It usually was soft when she addressed Louis, highly aware that she needed to earn every word she said to him. Louis no longer felt that, though. He didn't have to earn his place with her. He didn't have anything left to prove. Their relationship was built based on what he needed it to be and she was trying her hardest to fit into whatever 'mother' shaped mold Louis created each day. He was grateful for that. He was grateful for her patience because he didn't know how to be her son any more than she knew how to be his mum. It was almost better like this, though. It was almost better to know that neither of them needed the other. It was all about want and that was kind of liberating for Louis.
"I am," he said, staring across the yards. There had been a time in his life where the size of their property had given him anxiety, where it had done nothing but remind him of how alone he was. Now? Now it was just a place. A place full of people that he actually knew. Maybe they weren't really a 'family' in the traditional sense, but they were people who cared about each other. That was more than they'd ever been before that.
"I asked Dan to come home," his mother said softly, "I owe that to you, you know? You were brave and you let somebody love you and I realized I want that for myself. I realized that Dan always wanted to be that person—I was just too scared."
Louis smiled over at her, "Lottie will be glad," he said, "I'm glad."
"I have something for you," she said after a moment of comfortable silence, "two somethings, really." She handed him a keychain with one single key on it.
He looked down at it. It was familiar, "what's this?" he asked, fairly certain that it was the key to the front door of her house.
"Your key," she said, "you left it on the counter, but it's yours, Louis. I want you to know that you can always come back here. Maybe it doesn't always have the best memories, but I think we've been doing a pretty good job of creating some new ones. You can always come back. A day, a week, an hour, I don't care—you're always welcome here, Louis."
He didn't really know what to say. She was right. They had made some pretty decent new memories and it made leaving the house that he'd lived in all of his life a tiny bit easier knowing that she didn't mind if he wanted to come back. That she wanted him to come back.
"Thank you," he said.
"Thank you," she amended, "thank you for giving me a second chance. I didn't deserve it, but I appreciate it every single day, Louis."
"Will you visit me and Harry?"
He saw her lip quiver a bit at the question, "would you want me to?"
Louis nodded once. He did want that. He wanted the new dynamic in the place that he would share with Harry. He wanted to let her into the safety of his new life where she didn't have control but didn't care anymore. It would be on his terms. Always his terms. She'd given him free-reign and he'd surprised her often with just how many places he wanted to include her.
"Then I will," she promised and he believed her.
They met each other's eyes now. She wasn't a stranger. She wasn't a mystery with the same eyes as Louis. She was something more than that...and while maybe she'd never really be his mum like Anne was Harry's, it was close and it was more than it had ever been and Louis would take what he could get.
"Your other gift," she said, then, reaching her hand out. Louis caught the item in the palm of his hand. This time it was a pair of keys. These were keys he didn't recognize. He met her eyes again with confusion. "I got you a place in Manchester," she explained softly, "it has a spare room and room for two cars. I know that that's all I've ever given you was just stuff and this is just more stuff, but I wanted to know you're okay. I wanted to make sure that you and Harry had a proper place to call your own. It doesn't make up for the rest of it, but it's just a small thank you."
"Thank you?"
"Yes. A thank you for being gracious enough to give me a chance when I was the person in the world who deserved your compassion the least. You grew into something way more than I ever could have hoped for and I can't take any of the credit for it, but I'm still proud, Louis. I'm proud that you're my son and I'm proud that you fought for the life you wanted. I'm proud of the kindness inside of you and I'm so happy that we got to have these last few months so you could show me what I'd been missing. You woke me up, Louis. You made me realize that life stings, but that sometimes its worth it because it makes you stronger. It's not about being in control, its about letting the good things take control and lead you to rest of it."
...
Terri was crying before Louis even got a chance to take his seat. He smiled up at her, flopping down into his bean bag chair.
"You know, if you ever want to fill my hour with someone new you might want to actually get some real furniture. Its kind of hard to take a six foot tall woman with bean bag chairs seriously,"
Terri just sniffed once, trying to laugh at the joke, but the sound came out kind of gargled.
"Oh, come on, love," he said, almost succumbing to the sadness himself—and he was not going to cry, he just wasn't, "weren't you the one who told me that it was a good thing when I accused you of trying to break up with me when you dropped me down to a measly hour a week? Doesn't that mean this is a good thing? I'm breaking up with you, but, like, in a good way. It's not you, it's me."
Terri inhaled deeply, "its just...I've seen a lot of people through a lot of things, but there was a couple of times in those first few sessions were I really didn't think I was going to get through to you. I really thought that you didn't want my help."
"I didn't," he admitted, "I was used to being miserable and you ruined that. Shame on you."
Terri laughed again, "you're not the same person."
Louis sighed, "don't make me cry," he whined, "this was supposed to be a nice, pleasant goodbye."
"We've been through a lot together, haven't we?"
Louis nodded, "you woke me up," and dammit, he was getting sentimental and that was dangerously close to emotional—and emotional would lead to tears.
"I'm never going to forget you, Louis. You're the exact person I dreamed of meeting when I got into this industry. You are my shining star. You made my entire career choice worth it."
Louis felt a tear roll down his face, "I don't know if I'll ever stop needing you."
Terri sighed, "you already did, I just wasn't ready to say goodbye yet."
"I'm still not ready," Louis admitted.
"We still have," she checked her watch, "56 minutes."
Louis wiped away his tears and settled back into his chair, trying to pretend he didn't know he'd never sit there again, "my mum bought Harry and I a house in Manchester."
"Oh," said Terri, "that was generous. Did she give you an explanation?"
"She said it was a thank you for giving her a second chance."
"You are a very gracious person, Louis. You made a serious concession for her. She's right to value that."
He nodded, it didn't feel like a concession, though. It felt natural in a seriously unnatural way. Like they were supposed to have come together in the end. They were so much alike, "Dan is moving back, too."
"I bet your siblings are happy for that,"
Louis nodded again.
"What about you and Harry?"
Louis' lips twitched, "good. Things are good."
"What about the physical things? Have you been intimate?"
"We're taking it slow."
"And how do you feel about that?"
"Bad. It feels like I'm cheating him out of a normal relationship and setting him up for a lifetime of sexual frustration."
"It's not going to last a lifetime, Louis. You've got you give yourself a break."
Yeah, maybe he did. Harry hadn't seem upset—didn't really seem impatient in any way. They were trying, small things at a time. Harry had been a fucking saint, as usual. The thing was, the fire was there. The desire was there, but Louis was mostly operating on fear. He didn't want to dive into things with Harry because he was afraid not to. That didn't seem like the right way to go about it. They'd get there. He knew they would and he also knew that he'd have to walk through the flames of his shame probably a million times at first...but it wouldn't last forever. Eventually he'd learn that Harry only wanted the best for him and that, maybe by some stretch of the imagination, he was the best for Harry.
"I remember the first time we met," mused Terri, "when you didn't want to tell me you'd taken those pills on purpose. Do you remember what I told you?"
"Some cliche about how it was a cry for help?" Louis was smiling.
Terri smiled back, "yeah, exactly. And I told you that I thought you needed someone to tell you that it's okay to not be okay."
"And you were that someone," Louis was feeling very suddenly emotional. He didn't want to say goodbye to Terri. She had taught him how to breathe after he'd spend his entire life underwater. She had sat across from him week after week and poked and prodded and shared her own pain until he'd finally spilled open all over her floor. Then, she'd bent down and picked up every one of his pieces and showed him bit by bit how to put them back together, how to be a person. Terri had taught him everything. In his own mother's absence, she'd taken the role and taught him how to be alive. There was no way to sum up what she'd been to him. There was no way to say "thank you for giving me a life" and then walk away like that could ever be enough. There wasn't a way to repay her. He owed her everything he had. She'd taught him how to love, how to be loved and that was more than he could ever give her. He would be indebted to this woman for the rest of his life, and that was all fine and good when he was still able to see her...but now? Now the thought of her not being there? What if he fucked up again? What if he wasn't strong enough to make it through the bad without her? She wouldn't be just an email away. She'd be a memory of a person that had been everything to him when he hadn't even known what he needed.
"I'm always going to think about you, Louis."
She was crying again. Louis was crying again because she was about to close his file. She was going to write the last notes in his folder and file it away forever. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't come back here. It wasn't allowed. There was protocol leaking from every corner around them. They couldn't continue this, even in private and the finality that that added to the whole thing made it even harder to accept.
The thing was, Louis was excited. He was excited for his new life and the things that he would get to build with Harry, but he was also scared. There was no one he could tell that to, though. He couldn't risk Harry misunderstanding. There would never be a proper stand-in for the giant hole that Terri would leave in his life.
And fuck if it was a good thing to break up with your therapist. It was a hard thing, too, because leaving felt like he was saying he didn't need her—but he always would. In the dark moments he'd always relate back to the things she's said and the ways she'd taught him how to cope.
"Thank you isn't enough," Louis said, "there isn't anything I can say that would be enough. You gave me my life back. You saved me."
Terri shook her head, "no, Louis, you saved yourself. I was just lucky enough to watch it happen."
The End.
Notes:
I'm going to write an epilogue for all of you. There are so many of you that have been commenting on this for months that I feel like I owe it to you to tie up all the loose ends that you're left wondering about, so, leave me a comment about anything and everything that you're wondering about and if I have an answer for you, I will try to incorporate it into the epilogue.
Truly and honestly, if you've made it this far, thank you. Thank you. Thank you so fucking much. This has been a labour of love, but I don't know if I would have been able to get here without all the encouragement I received.
I love you all, and I will be back with your epilogue and hopefully some one shots over the next few months.
From the bottom of my heart, thanks for taking this journey with me.
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