hey guys. final chapter.
i won't make you wait for the epilogue, though, i'm going to write it as soon as i post this. it should be up within an hour or two. if it's not, i'll post it tomorrow. i'm saving my long, sappy, emotional author's note for the end of that.
again, the gif is unrelated, but.
might as well.
__________________
"You want the muffin, then?"
Louis blinks. He's been holding a blueberry muffin in his hand at the checkout counter of the small cafe down the block for a solid thirty seconds. He supposes he just needs something to stare at.
"Uh, no, just the tea." He sheepishly tucks the muffin back in its stand, sighing quietly to himself - he wasn't even hungry - and slid his money to the twinky cashier. "Please."
"Sure thing, mate." The boy has barely even spared Louis a single glance. He didn't think he would ever get used to be recognized everywhere, and now he wonders if he'll ever adjust to being normal ever again. Louis hasn't sang since the break up. He's not even sure he knows how anymore. "Exact change and everything, wicked."
"Yeah." Louis carries around a lot of change. He likes to put it in the small change collection donation boxes, but this cafe doesn't have one of those, so. Throwing it out aimlessly on the street hadn't worked very well last time, as he had startled a passing woman, and ended up apologizing for longer than it would have taken to just put the change back in his pocket.
"Here you go - hey, you look familiar." And, no, here we go again. "Have I seen you around here before?"
"Doubt it," he mutters.
"I swear, I've seen your face somewhere." The boy crosses his arms and leans against the counter, squinting as he purses his lips at Louis. Louis, ever the patient one, rolls his eyes with a sigh.
"Is looking at me like that going to make you remember faster?"
"It might."
"Okay, well, I'm going to leave now. Goodbye." Louis turns and begins to walk away, flicking his scarf over his shoulder dramatically; he prides himself in his ability to make a grand exit.
"Wait! I know where I've seen you." He freezes momentarily, cautiously waiting to hear the other's accusation - he feels like he's in a movie.
There's a brief pause: "You live in my flat building! Yeah, 34B!"
Louis continues out the door.
He doesn't live in flat 34B.
________
"Did ya' bring me anything?" Zayn asks, head poking up from the sofa in interest at the sound of Louis' feet across the wooden floor. "The croissant I asked for?"
"No, I forgot," Louis hums, hanging his coat up and kicking his shoes off carelessly.
Zayn groans irritably, flopping back down and turning the volume on the telly up. "You always forget."
"Don't know why you bother to keep asking, then," Louis calls over his shoulder as he enters the kitchen. He tosses his empty cup into the trash, throws his keys onto the counter - he knows he'll forget where they are if he puts them anywhere else - and pulls turns to their small calendar next to the refrigerator.
The only thing that's marked down for February third is Zayn's apparent doctor's appointment. Louis rolls his eyes again, scowling at the calendar like it's done him some great offense, and drags himself back into the other room.
Zayn doesn't look up at him, even as Louis crawls over and sits on his feet. He wiggles, trying to provoke a reaction from Zayn, but Zayn is so into the game on the screen that he fails to give Louis any sort of attention aside from a sharp kick to the bum.
"Zayn," Louis whines. "Look at me. I want you to look at me."
Zayn does, lazily, and huffs. Louis looks at him expectantly. "You woke me up because you said there were important things that we needed to do today."
"There are," Zayn says slowly, as if this is some common knowledge that Louis should already have obtained.
"There's quite literally nothing that needs to get done today."
Zayn doesn't respond. Louis pokes him in the stomach until he groans again.
"I just wanted you to get out of bed. Okay? I don't like it when you just. Lay there. And watch telly. And rot on the inside."
"Okay, well, you're lying down watching telly right now, so. Also, I don't think laziness causes one to rot on the inside, but."
"It's true. I read it on Web MD, Lou."
Louis bites his lip to keep himself from giggling. "Obviously a reliable source for accurate medical information, yeah?"
"Totally."
He sits in silence for a few moments, staring at his feet, before he turns to Zayn hopefully. "So... does this mean-"
"No."
"But-"
"Absolutely not. You are not going back to bed."
"Why not?" Louis moans, standing up and crossing his arms childishly. He hates when Zayn tries to act like his mum, but really, he knows he'd never leave the house if he didn't. "I'm tired. And no offense, mate, but I really don't want to spend the rest of the morning... doing this."
"Fine, don't. But you're not going back in your room. Go out for a change, yeah?"
"It's ten in the morning."
"Bloody hell, Louis, go shopping. Or something. I don't know. Go buy yourself something nice. God knows you have enough money to buy out every store in town."
"Just because I have money doesn't mean I have to use it," Louis mutters defensively, though it doesn't do much in aiding his argument.
"What other use for money is there?"
Louis pouts. The pout melts off his face quickly, though, because he knows it won't do a damn thing to change Zayn's mind. Zayn isn't Harry.
Harry.
Louis closes his eyes and exhales for a moment, struggling to push the name out of his head. He hates himself for thinking of it in the first place, because he knows from personal experience that once Harry has made his appearance, the reminder that he was there won't fade for many days. Or weeks. Or months. Or years.
He thinks of himself as a shell housing a part of Harry. A part of his past. A story he'll tell to his grandchildren. A lonely name that he'll think about from time to time only to forget by morning. And, he thinks he's okay with that. He's honored to have been loved by Harry Styles. He's proud to say that he loved his boy more than anyone had ever loved anyone, as biased as he may be.
Just as he's a part of Harry's past, Harry is a part of his. The past. Over. Gone.
And then, along with the memories, Harry's name slips back into the sea of muddled thoughts and words stored in Louis' frazzled brain.
He's still standing up.
"Louis? You okay?"
"Yeah," he says. There's not a lie in his voice, because yeah, he is okay. He's okay. He's going to be okay. "I guess you're right. I'll... go somewhere. I'll go to the supermarket. What do we need, eggs? Milk?"
"We always need fuckin' eggs, man. You eat them, like, every day. You should try something new for breakfast. Pancakes. Buy pancake mix."
Louis forces out a laugh. "No. I'm not buying pancake mix. I kind of hate pancakes, to be honest."
"Since when?"
"I just don't want to eat them, okay?"
___________
Louis hates the supermarket. With a passion.
Zayn has written him a list, but his handwriting is messy and the ink smeared from the rain outside; Louis squints at it in frustration. He can't tell if the second item is 'rice' or 'Ritz', so he gets both.
He's in the freezer section scanning over the frozen pizzas with a dull interest when a hand reaches for the door handle in front of him. He eyes the hand.
"Pardon me," the owner of the hand drawls. Louis steps back robotically, ignoring the man as he continues to look over the pizzas. The man rustles through the freezer, and turns around with a stack of cheese pizzas. He walks away without another word or glance toward Louis, and Louis is glad. He hears the shopping trolley roll away.
He decides on supreme, because he's feeling extra spontaneous, and wheels to the next freezer aisle. He's deep in thought about what flavor of ice cream to grab, one hand on the door handle, when a much smaller, lighter pops into his view again. Except, this time, it's grabbing for his arm.
Louis jerks his arm back quickly, looking in surprise at the other.
"Louis."
He blinks. "What are you do-"
"It's you."
"Who are you?"
"Paisley. Duh!"
Louis pales. "Paisley? As in Paisley An-"
"Hi!" She looks so different, what the fuck. Louis briefly wonders if it's been two months or two years since they've last seen each other. "My daddy told me not to bother you, but I told him you're my friend."
"Uh," Louis is uncomfortable, to say the least. His eyes drift from Paisley's big, bright eyes to the figure that's hurrying toward them, curls in a fucking ponytail and black coat down to his knees.
"I think this is yours," Louis blurts stupidly when Harry at least reaches them, scooping his daughter into his arms with a pretty blush on his cheeks.
"Yes, I think so too," Harry replies with just as much embarrassment in his voice. "I told you not to-"
"But he's my friend."
"It's alright, um. I'll just be going, then," Louis' eyes are wide as he whirls around and tries desperately to escape the premises, ice cream forgotten.
"Wait."
Louis tenses when Harry's free hand touches his shoulder lightly. Every cell in his body is screaming at him to relax into the touch, but his brain holds its ground. "Can I - can I just talk to you? Please?"
"Um, I really don't think that's wise."
"Paisley, go back with your aunt," Harry instructs, like a proper father, Louis swoons a bit; and sets Paisley back on her pink shoe clad feet. She rushes away obediently, and only then does Louis notice that Gemma is standing by the trolley with at least twelve pizzas stacked inside of it - he guesses that Harry being the owner of said trolley is a safe assumption to make.
Harry awkwardly rubs his hands down the back of his trousers as he licks his lips. "So..."
Louis shakes his head. "What are you doing here?"
"Um, I live here."
"At Tesco's?"
"No! I live in town. Y'know."
"Oh. Well, great talk-"
"Louis, I'm serious. There are some things we need to discuss." Harry grabs Louis' wrist to keep him from escaping. Louis fights back a screech at Harry's large fingers.
"Okay, fine. Then say them."
Harry takes a deep breath. "I miss you."
"Harry."
"Not. Not like that. Well, yes, like that, but also just in general. I miss having you around, Lou. Even as just a friend. I miss your jokes and your advice... and your everything, really. I hate that we just walked out of each other's lives without saying goodbye. I hate that I didn't understand back then, I do now. I get why you left and I'm sorry, I am. I wish I could go back and stick around, but. This moment, right now, is all I have."
Louis stares at the floor. "You can't just come and steal my heart with a few meaningless words. You've got a family now, one that I'm not supposed to be a part of."
"Please, I'm not asking you to be my boyfriend." Louis glances up at him through his eyelashes. "Just my friend. Please. Paisley's birthday is next weekend. Come to the party with Zayn. I know she'd really appreciate it, and so would I. Just think about it, okay? I want us to be on good terms again. It's the least I can do."
Louis chews on his lower lip anxiously. "How do I know that it won't be too much? Too much for me to sit around and watch you... and her..."
"I guess we won't know until we find out." Louis blinks.
"What?"
"Just. Please. Come. Okay? Come. There will be cake. And you can see our new place, it's lovely, and you and I can sit down and talk this all out. We can make this work. But right now, I'd really love it if you'd talk to me."
"I don't know what to say. It's like talking to a stranger," Louis says honestly. "It's like I don't even know you. And your daughter is growing at the fucking speed of light, what the hell, how long has it been?"
"Just a few months..."
"It feels like millenniums."
"I know," Harry replies. "I know. You can't tell me that you don't miss me too."
"I don't," Louis snaps. This is, of course, a lie. "I have plenty of friends. I don't need another."
Harry's eyes are sad. "Come on, Lou. Humor me. Come to the party. If you hate it, you'll never have to talk to me again. And I'll leave you alone forever, let you move on for real this time. I won't pop back up. I'll stay away."
"Okay, okay, Jesus," Louis huffs. "Fine, I'll come to the party. But only for a little while. For Paisley, not for you."
"Yeah, okay," Harry tries to say casually, but his entire face is lit up. Louis wants to smack him for being adorable at this time, really.
"She's a good girl, Harry. I hate to say it, but. You did a good job."
Harry is already starting to back away, smiling like a bloody fool. "You won't regret this."
"Promise?" Louis asks, and he means it as more of a joke, but.
"Promise."