Louis stood in line to the X factor. He was nervous, he had to admit that. Just like last time, he thought to himself bitterly. Only now, everything was and would be different. He moved up the line a little, keeping his head ducked down. He took in a shuddering breath to try and calm his nerves, to no avail. His sunglasses rested comfortably on the bridge of his nose and his hood was up so no one would recognise him. He was trying to make himself as small and inconspicuous as possible.

Louis was dying with anticipation. He fidgeted nervously, bouncing from one foot to another. But despite the ache in his stomach, he was grinning. He had wanted this his whole life. He was about to walk on stage. He had never dreaded and wanted something so badly all at once. He breathed in deeply.

Applause rang through the backstage area, an echo of the real thing. It sounded polite and uninterested. Louis barely noticed the contestant walking past him. All he saw was the far right of the audience, uncovered by screens. He knew he could see them but they couldn't see him. He bit his lip, staring at their expecting, bored faces. This was it. They were waiting for him. Within seconds, he would be on stage, giving everything. How loud would they clap for him?

A hand settled on Louis' shoulder, telling him it was time, urging him on. He nodded, unable to speak. He flicked his fringe out of his face and bounced on the backs of his feet. He was doing this. He was ready. He took his first step towards the stairs, staring at the X waiting for him. He was about to take another when a hand suddenly locked around his wrist. Surprised, he stopped as it tugged him. He was halted in his tracks. He whirled, trying to see who had grabbed him. He looked up. It was a man. He was not much taller than him and not buff, but not slim either. He had a grey hoodie on, covering his arms and its hood shading his face, accompanied by sunglasses. From Louis could see of him, he looked young and he wasn't smiling.

Louis snapped out of his dazed surprise and yanked his hand back. Or tried to at least. He didn't have time for this. He was supposed to be auditioning. They were waiting for him, but they wouldn't wait for long. The man didn't loosen his grip on him.

"What the fuck, man?" Louis said angrily, still trying to free his wrist. But the man was far stronger than him.

"Don't," was all the stranger said. Louis felt the hair on his arms stand on end. He'd heard that voice before. It was familiar, freakishly so. But he had no idea where he knew it from. The man reached his free hand up, his hoodie sleeves sliding down his arms, revealing the ends of a tattoo. Louis peered at the bird and knot curiously as the man removed his sunglasses. Louis' gaze flickered to the stranger's. His eyes met his. Louis gasped.

Loui's arm went limp. He stopped struggling. His jaw dropped.

He was staring… he was looking into his own eyes. His own fucking face. The man in front of him… It was undoubtable. He couldn't believe it. He had the same cut jaw, though perhaps a bit more slender. The same high cheekbones and something indescribable about him that just made him who he was. He had dark circles under his eyes that Louis didn't have. And those eyes. They were his eyes but so much heavier. Darker. Tragedy and loss shone in them like Louis had never seen before. They looked so much more like his mother's eyes. They hurt to look at, but he couldn't not.

"Come with me," his own voice drawled, coming from the older man. It sounded rougher, older and raspier. Deeper too.

Louis couldn't think. Couldn't speak. But he wasn't going to refuse. He glanced at the stage one last time. People were becoming restless, but he knew they would go on without him. He didn't matter to them.

He looked back at the man in front of him, waiting patiently. At himself. His older self. It made his head spin. He nodded. The man, himself, dropped his arm, his tattooed wrist back at his side. He put his sunglasses on and turned around. He walked away, leaving Louis behind. He hesitated only for a moment. He followed.

His future-self seemed to know where he was going. Louis wondered how he was more familiar with the layout than he was. Louis stared at him with some awe. He had a knack for being unseen. Where Louis bumped into things and people, he passed completely unnoticed, sidestepping people before they had even moved into his path. He stuck close to wall and would have been entirely unnoticed had it not been for Louis. He tried to follow the man's example with little success. They passed down a long half way and Louis glanced back at the way they had come. The distance between himself and the stage that should have been his was rapidly growing. He looked down at his number, stuck to his shirt. Little good it would do him now.

He ripped it off harshly, trying not to think too much of it. But he couldn't help but feel like the tear of paper meant something. The sticker came clean off and he let it flutter to the ground. He looked straight ahead of him, following his older-self out of the door. They were outside and nearing a parking lot. There was no one around. His future-self stopped and looked around him just to be sure. Louis stared at him expectantly. The man tugged his hood off.

Louis had to admit, the other him's hair was better than his. His was choppy and looked styled while Louis' hair was practically falling in front his eyes. He mentally slapped himself. Why was he worrying about hair when his future- self literally stood right in front? His future self who had come to find him? It was absurd. Had he come to stop him from following his dream? That had to mean something.

"What's going on?" Louis asked, trying to sound angry and intimidating. But he wasn't fooling anybody, not least himself.

"I'm you," his older-self said, almost regrettably.

"I figured."

The man smiled a little. Louis had smiled the same way his whole life, just tugging up one corner.

"Trust me, you didn't want to go through with it."

Chills rushed down my spine. What could possibly be the worst that could happen?

Louis tried not to dwell on it.

"From what year are you? How old are you?" Louis frowned. "We?"

"2022."

Louis' jaw dropped. Once again. 2022… that meant. Oh God, he was thirty. The man in front of him was thirty. Somehow, Louis had never quite imagined himself as thirty. What was his job? Did he have someone, a family? And what did the world look like? His future-self didn't look bad or anything but, what was he doing here? Talking to his 18-year-old self?

"Why are you here?"

"I had to stop you. You… we can't audition."

"Why not?" Louis asked, frustrated. Why couldn't he just give him straight, helpful answers?

"Because it's not worth it," his older-self said bitterly. Louis frowned. What did he mean by that? It was just an audition.

"What are you talking about?"

"The fame, the albums, money, it doesn't make up for everything else."

Louis' eyes bulged. Fame! Albums!

"Wait! We actually make it," Louis said in disbelief. "Holy shit! I did it!"

"Yes," the older him said, but he winced. Louis shook his head angrily.

"I don't get it! We actually make it! And you just let me throw it all away!"

The man stared at him, into him, sombrely.

"Trust me, you don't want my life."

Louis was about to protest, to complain that it wasn't right, that he should have taken his shot. But something in his eyes made the words freeze on his tongue. The man before him looked so tired, not just the bangs under his eyes or the way he slouched. He looked like he was about to collapse and had given up. Louis said nothing.

"It's not as good as you think it is. There are moments yes. Where you are on top of the world and you never want to touch the ground again. But coming down cost you everything."

He was almost whispering but Louis caught every word. He could hardly believe it was him speaking. That one day, he would have such heavy, sunken words. He had never been a very poetic person. But here he was, at thirty, spilling his broken heart.

"What was it?" Louis whispered softly. He hated the darkness and sorrow in his own eyes looking back at him, but he couldn't help but ask.

He just shook his head, "Trust me, you don't want to know. And you don't want my life."

"Shouldn't I get to choose."

"Don't you see? You already have. I am you. I did this the long way around so none of… that would ever happen. But only if you don't audition."

"I want to decided," Louis said determined, his heart hammering with nerves. His older-self nodded, unsurprised. "I want to know why."

The man in front of him had been bouncing around the subject, never giving him a straight answer. He was sick of it. But he only shook his head, looking away.

"I can't. I can't tell you. I can't even promise you not going on the X factor will solve it all. But listen to me. If you go through with this, you will lose everything."

Everything? What did everything mean to him, twelve years from now? What did it mean to him now?

His family. No question. His mom and sisters meant the world, even his step-dad. Would he lose them? He looked into the thirty-year-old version of himself right in front of him. He had to be talking about his family, if not, he wasn't sure he wanted to become this person anyway.

"Okay," Louis whispered. Maybe he should have asked after the good things, the places he went, everything he had achieved. But he had already made up his mind.

It scared him. That every day, there were a thousand different possibilities and chances and he had gotten it wrong. He would get it so wrong, he would become the man in front of him. He tried not to think of how it might be inevitable. Maybe not auditioning was only part of it. Maybe he would still lose everything. His doubts crowded his mind, trapping him in. He wasn't sure how he could ever make another decision in his life. He suddenly found it hard to breathe.

"Hey," his older-self said. Louis looked up into his eyes. He smiled weakly, sadly. Louis had always hated sad smiles. He wondered if his older-self thought the same thing. "It's alright. I trust you. You'll figure it out."

The words weren't very reassuring but Louis nodded anyway. Louis followed his movements as the man held up his wrist, reading off his watch. Louis wrinkled his nose. He wore a watch? Since when did he like watches?

"You have thirty minutes."

"Thirty minutes until what?"

"You'll see."

He would know. Louis didn't say anything.

Louis guided his younger-self through the painfully familiar place. Somehow, he still remembered every single detail. His feet carried him without falter, knowing exactly where they were going. Twelve years ago, he had been here. He felt like a ghost. He supposed he might as well have been, haunting the present. His eighteen-year-old-self followed close behind him, tripping over himself, his shoulders slumped but practically skipping at the same time. It made Louis shake his head in amusement. He hadn't appreciated his young self as much as he should have.

He had seen the boy following behind him plenty of times on TV and video before.

And God, Louis had no idea what had made him think to audition with his voice in such a state, so high and breaking and cracking. And yes, his hair and outfits really had been that bad. But he loved that about him. That was who Louis had been. Unapologetically and proud. Wearing whatever he liked, going wherever he wanted, speaking his mind. Always speaking his mind. Unapologetically completely gay and free. God, how free he had been.

It was weird to think the boy behind him had his whole life ahead of him and it wasn't Louis'. He would do it right this time. He wouldn't…

He could live in a world his mother never got sick. Where Felicity never overdosed. Where he didn't lose…

Louis shook his head. He couldn't think about it. It was too fresh in his mind, too painful.

He glanced at his younger-self over his shoulder. The boy would have to find another way to provide for his family, to treat his mother the way she deserved. He had meant it when he said he trusted in him. He would leave it up to the teenager behind him.

They walked on in silence. They were almost there when Louis stumbled. He tripped over nothing and clutched his spinning head. His younger-self was instantly beside him, helping him. He grabbed Louis' arm to try and steady him but everything kept on spinning. Louis' head felt like it was bursting, his skull throbbing. Memories and vision blurred behind his eyes, falling in and out of place, trying to fit together again.

"What's happening? Are you okay?" his young-self asked worried. Louis shook his head.

"It's okay. It's okay. It's my memories, they're collapsing."

Eyes and faces flashed through his mind, erasing themselves and becoming smudged and forgotten.

"What?"

"Side effect. I am rewriting my life. I shouldn't even exist anymore. My memories are caving in because, technically, they never happened and never will."

Louis flinched against the pain, at his mind tearing and pouring out.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Yes," Louis said, suddenly having an idea through the murky haze of his mind. "Tell me something that happened to you."

"What?"

"Any memory will do. Your experiences are still real. It will help balance out my head, I think."

He nodded furiously. Faces blurred through Louis' mind. A crowd. A stadium. Meet and greets. Girls hugging him, telling him he had saved their life. Receiving an award. It was too much.

"Okay, okay," his younger-self said panicked. "Um… I was five years old. We were at the pool in July. It was hot and I was so excited to go swimming. I jumped right in, without my floating bands or anything. I don't remember all of it. I just remember the cool water and feeling free and happy as I sank through the water. I had no idea I could have drowned. But of course, mom saved me. She jumped right in, clothes and all, phone in her pocket."

Both of their breathing calmed as his younger-self told the story in a fond, soft tone. Louis remembered it well. He was back by the water, watching all the other kids having fun and wanting to join in. He remembered being in his mother's arms as she clutched him close. She was saying something but he couldn't remember what. Mummering promises and keeping him safe. As she always had. As she always would have.

His head cleared and he straightened. He still felt dizzy but it wasn't alarming.

"Thank you," he told his younger-self, still looking at him with worry.

"Yeah, yeah, of course."

They continued walking and Louis tried not to dwell on his disappearing memories, but he couldn't help think of his fans. Of their fans. Of thousands of them who had loved them. Who had told them they meant everything to them. What he had meant to them. He had to hope they would find happiness. But, who knew, maybe Zayn, Niall and Liam would find two other boys to join their group. He had never meant that much to the group anyway.

Louis and his younger-self walked side by side and Louis had the feeling his 18-year-old-self kept glancing at him. He met his gaze as it flickered to him again.

"What?"

The boy gestured to his arms. In his accident, his sleeves must have ridden up a bit.

"Tattoos? Really?" he said disappointed, shaking his head. Louis had to laugh.

"Not a fan. I know. But maybe one day you will be."

"I highly doubt it. What changed your mind?"

"Bad influences," Louis said fondly.

He stopped. His younger-self looked at him in confusion. They had arrived. They were just a couple metres from the boys' bathroom.

"We're here," Louis clarified.

"Where? What are we doing here?" he looked around him, as if expecting something more than just a random hallway, just like a dozen others they'd walked through. But to Louis, this place was a whole other world. It was one of the most important places in his life, he realised.

Louis checked his watch again, the big red numbers glaring at him. He almost shivered.

"15 minutes and 45 seconds," he said, looking up to his younger-self. "Then you will meet someone. Pay attention or you might miss it. Don't ever let him go."

His younger-self looked at him with panic and confusion as Louis instructed him.

"What?" he asked, a thousand emotions fluttering through his eyes.

"Trust me."

He rolled his eyes. It made Louis smiled a little. Bad habits die hard and all that. Where their roles reversed, he was sure he would have been just as frustrated. Louis glanced down the hallway, towards the two grey doors. 15 minutes. He had fifteen minutes to get the 18-year-old inside and make sure he didn't leave. Nerves fluttered in his stomach. He was playing a dangerous game. He had no idea what would even keep the younger-Louis inside long enough. He didn't believe much in faith, destiny or a natural course. Even a second too early and he would lose him all over again.

"What will happen to you?" his younger-self surprised Louis by asking.

Louis shrugged, "I'm not sure. I'll disappear, I think. We can't both keep existing."

"You'll never have existed. I will never become you," his younger-self said sadly. Louis could tell he had only realised the full extent of it.

He nodded, "That's right."

"You'll die."

"Well… I wouldn't put it like that. But I suppose so."

"And you're okay with that?" he asked in disbelief. "That's like suicide."

Louis looked at him then, really looked. The boy's lips were trembling, quivering around the words and tears welled in his eyes. Louis stared at him. He had forgotten how emotional he had once been. How easily he let it all show. Louis always had lived with his heart on his sleeve, but he had been taught to keep his face blank. He envied the 18-year-old in front of him. How lucky he had been. To feel and love with freedom. At the time, he hadn't even realised how fortunate he was.

"It's not like that," Louis said after a long pause. "I'm not killing myself. I am giving up the last few years for a second chance. I want to make my own life better. That's not much of a sacrifice is it?"

"But what if I mess up? What if I make it worse and become something worse than you?"

He was shaking and Louis felt guilty. He hadn't even thought about how the boy would take it? What could anyone possibly do with so much responsibility and pressure?

"Hey," Louis grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to face him. "You won't. You hear me? You'll make mistakes, of course, you will. You're human, that's the whole point. They tried to make us… me not human, that's when everything went wrong."

"But if you're… gone. Who will stop me? Will any of this have happened if a future me never came to stop me."

"It's already done. You won't remember me. You might have no idea why you didn't go through with your audition. But it is done. You'll go back to being a carefree, 18-year-old."

He nodded but Louis could tell he didn't really understand. He didn't blame him.

"You really are giving up everything?"

Louis smiled, remember long fingers carding through thick, dark hair and a smile that could light up the universe.

"Not quite everything."

Louis checked his watch again. 10 minutes.

"Is that how long you have left?" his younger-self asked, following his movements.

"No," Louis smiled. "I have a whole life waiting for me."

Despite the sorrow shinning in his bright eyes, his younger-self smiled a little too.

"I suppose I should say thank you," he said, almost ironically.

Louis shook his head, "This is utter madness."

He wasn't sure whether he was ready to accept gratitude.

"This person I am going to meet, what do they look like?"

Louis' smile fell.

"They will be the most important person in your life."

"Then why do you look so sad?"

Instantly, Louis is back in Harry's apartment.

Two weeks ago. Just two weeks ago. He closed his eyes against the memory but it dragged him down anyway, capturing him. The walls are white. The tiles are stained red. He can smell it. The iron thang of blood, burning his nose. The lack of Harry's warm, comforting scent he loved so much. He still does. He missed it more than he needed to breathe.

His hands are soaked in blood and trembling.

"Please, God, no," he sobbed, trying to hold himself together desperately. His heart was thundering from his chest, trying to get away from him, to leave him behind with his misery and desperation.

"No, please!" he begged and begged. Harry wasn't moving. Louis clutched his face shakenly, almost knocking his head back against the cold, stained tiles. His ran his thumbs over Harry's cheeks, desperately trying to bring warmth back into them. Life.

It wasn't meant to be this way. Louis held himself over him, on the brink of collapsing. This wasn't right. They were supposed to make it. Their story was so far from finished, but the end was right beneath him.

Louis sobbed and leant forward. He didn't know what to do. There was no plan, no way to save him. To bring back his beating heart or exchange it for his. He pressed his forehead to Harry's. Tears slipped from his cheek, patting softly as they touched Harry's. As if the younger man had spilt tears of his own. He was too late. He was gone.

Louis shook his head furiously. He stared into Harry's closed eyes. He wanted to force them open, to slap Harry awake. But it would be too cruel.

"Please, babe. Please, just…"

He didn't know what he was praying for. For him to wake up? For the last year to undo itself? For a second chance? To wind back time and play it again, only this time with his eyes fucking open.

He leant forward and nudged his nose against Harry's. He pressed a desperate kiss to Harry's nose, his forehead. As if he could kiss him better. As if he was bringing him back, kissing him awake and not kissing him goodbye. He carefully set Harry's head against the floor. How many times had they not sat in this very spot together? Harry sitting where he now lay lifeless as Louis lent against the wall. The two of them laughing, passing a blunt and beer between them. Harry slouching forward with his arms resting on his knees and an effortless grin. The crinkles by Louis' eyes as he smiled back fondly.

Louis' hand snaked down to grip Harry's. He did it without thinking, always looking to hold and comfort him.

"Breath, Harry, breathe," he begged. But he didn't. We never would again.

He looked down at his hand, locked in Harry's cold one. Fresh, hideous tears clouded his eyes. There were fine, long cute along Harry's wrists. So straight and carefully placed. It broke Louis' heart, shattering him in a thousand pieces. Leaving his soul with Harry's on the floor. He forced himself to look away. With his free hand, he brushed the curls he loved so much from out of Harry's face. The curls that had become wavy and had lost their bounce years ago.

Oh, God. What had they done?

They had so worried, so trapped, by what the world would think, they had forgotten each other. Become strangers. They had broken it off years ago because it had become too hard. They had been too young to bear the weight and hardship of their love. The hundreds of eyes on them. The secrecy.

They had tried so often to see each other, but with promos, world tours and separate studios, they had slipped away from each other. They'd been so busy they hadn't even noticed. Drowning in success and numbers, they lost sight of each other. Like losing someone in a crowd and forgetting what they were looking for in the first place.

Louis hadn't been there. He hadn't noticed the signs. Hadn't stood beside Harry to pull him back, to slow him down, to take him down from his high to the real world. He hadn't been there to see the boy he loved fade and do everything he could to save him. To bring back the light to his shallow eyes.

Louis sobbed into his shoulder. He couldn't bear to stare at his cold face. To know this was the oldest Harry would ever be. To know it was the last time he would see him. Like this. Bled out on the floor.

Slowly, the apartment disappeared and the walls faded back to grey. Closed shut eyes turned into blue ones, staring at him. His head spun, the memory falling apart. He couldn't recall it any further.

Louis refused to cry. He was so, so, so sick of tears. Louis took in a shuddering breath. He'd like to say he was used to the pain. The sadness. But it was a lie. It would have been a mercy. Instead, his heart was shredded apart every time. Every single time, he fell apart and lost everything all over again. Every time, he was drained and empty, knowing he would have to do it over and over again. Every time, he would have to crawl and drag himself to pick up the pieces. To collect them and put them together again. Only, every time, it would never fit together the same way again.

"Because I lost him," Louis answered, his younger-self's question ringing through his head. Those four words weren't enough. Not to justify a thousand words, a whirlwind of emotions and million actions. All the memories slipping from between his fingers. He closed his eyes. He would lose every memory he had with Harry. All the hideous and glorious ones, the happiness and the stabbing pain. But maybe this was worth it.

He had come here out of selfishness. There was no doubt about it. But maybe… maybe there was a chance he could save Harry too. He hadn't dared to hope. But maybe, their story could be rewritten. The right way this time. If his younger-self grabbed Harry's hand and ran, never letting go.

Louis opened his eyes. He looked at his watch again, ignoring his shaking hands and how the red numbers blurred.

"7 minutes." 7 minutes until Louis would meet Harry. Until the world would be theirs again. "Go inside," he instructed, ignoring his swollen voice. "Stand by the sink, third one down, and wait."

His younger-self stared at him expectantly.

"What? That's it? That's all the instructions I get? What do I say? What did you say?"

"This isn't my life anymore. It's not supposed to be the same. Say what you would say."

"But I…"

"It's your life, no one else's. I think I forgot that for a while. Always remember that. Even if you forget me, try to remember that."

His younger-self nodded, looking stressed and tugged at his shirt nervously.

"Okay, okay," he took a deep breath and looked up at Louis. "Oddly, it's been nice to meet you. Or whatever this is."

Louis smiled. "I get what you mean. Not so bad yourself, not nearly as annoying as I remember." The corner of the young-Louis' mouth tugged up. "Do the right thing, will you?"

He was only half-joking. His younger-self nodded.

"Goodbye, I guess."

"Good luck."

Louis gave his younger-self one last lingering look. He wasn't so nervous anymore. He couldn't explain it, but he trusted the boy.

"4 more minutes," he said and turned around.

Louis watched his older-self's back turn and walk away. He breathed in shakenly. His heart was thundering in his chest. He tried to calm himself and tore his gaze away from his older-self. His eyes found the grey door. He began walking towards it, practically shaking. He glanced down the hall for his older-self one last time, hoping to catch his reassuring gaze.

But he was gone. Louis wondered if he should have stayed with his older-self. He was dying after all. He shouldn't have to do that on his own. But Louis had been given instructions. He pushed the door open.

There was absolutely nothing remarkable about the room inside. The bathroom was tiled black and with quite a modern design. Louis' gaze fluttered around unsurely. He settled on the sinks and he approached them. He walked along the long stretch of them, counting as he passed each tap. He froze at the third.

His hands were shaking as he clutched the edge of the cold marble and turned towards the mirror. He bit his lip, his brow scrunched with nerves.

Four minutes until he would meet…

He looked up at his reflection, meeting his frown. Who was it again? He opened his mouth, as if hoping the name would just spill out. But of course, it didn't.

Four minutes until… what? He tried to think. He was sure he was here for a reason. But what was it? The answer was just out of reach. He tried to reach for it blindly but it slipped out of reach.

Why couldn't he remember?

He shrugged and opened the tap. Water gushed out as he reached for the soap, not sure why. He thought he could remember coming into the bathroom but he had no idea why. He hadn't even gone to one of the urinals, just straight to the sinks. There must have been a reason. He shrugged again and opened his hands under the steady stream of water. It felt cool and relaxing. After ditching his audition at the very last second, he needed cooling off. He splashed a good amount over his face, trying to forget the indescribable feeling. Like déjà vu but backwards. Like there was something he should recognise or remember but couldn't.

He stared at his tired reflection, dripples of water rolling down his cheek and caught on his lashes. He brushed his fringe out of his eyes and tried not to worry about it.

He wiped his face dry and stepped back from his reflection hesitantly. He gave himself a lingering look. Why did he feel like he needed to stay? A tug in his gut, telling him to stay standing. His mother and sisters were probably waiting or looking for him. He should go. So why did he feel like he was rooted to the spot? Like he wasn't supposed to leave.

He looked around him. Was he waiting for someone? Something? He shook his head. He was being stupid. But his feet didn't move. Why was he even here? This was the furthest possible bathroom he could have found and he couldn't even remember walking here. How had he even found it in this maze?

He forced his legs to work and turned towards the door. His heart felt heavy and he wasn't sure why. Maybe for missing his audition and having dragged his whole family here for it in the first place. But that didn't feel true.

He lifted his hand and pushed it against the cold metal of the door. Just as his hand touched the door, it suddenly flew open. Startled, he stumbled back, almost colliding right into it. Someone walked in and still hadn't noticed him or had any idea he had almost knocked him out. The newcomer was moving backwards, a head of dark curls and a faded brown jacket backing into Louis. The stranger was laughing at something someone Louis couldn't see.

Louis should have said something, but it all happened so quickly. Before he knew it, the boy collided right into him. His hard back striking Louis' chest and he was sure he'd stomped on his foot. The air was almost knocked from Louis and the stranger broke his laughter. He gasped in surprise and whirled.

Louis would have said something. He had been about to, his mouth open and words hanging from his lip. But then, blue eyes caught green ones.

Instantly, all thought flew from his head and he froze. His mouth hung open. The boy, he really was just a boy, had frozen too, staring back at him. He was adorable. His hair was a curly mess but impossibly endearing. And those eyes… They trapped Louis where he stood. The boy's shock blew them right out of proportion. He had rosy, slightly chubby cheeks and a slim little nose. He had to be younger than Louis. By at least two years. He was staring too.

Louis closed his mouth subconsciously. He had no idea how long he had been standing there, just gawking but he didn't know what to say. Not a single word had passed between them.

Louis parted his mouth,

"Hi," he breathed out, the world barely audible and lost to himself. Of all the things he could have said, that seemed to be the only thing he could have managed. The boy grinned and Louis swore he was going to have a stroke. Perfect teeth pulled into the wildest, happiest and most excited smile he had ever seen. Two dimples appear, like valleys in his cheeks.

"Oops," he said cheekily, probably completely aware of the effect he had on Louis. Louis grinned too. He had no idea who this stranger was, but he wanted to find out.

Louis hung back, just around the corner of the bathrooms. 5 more seconds. Either everything had gone terribly wrong or very right. He pulled his hands out of his hoodie. A foreign, not unpleasant feeling crawled up his fingers. He wasn't entirely sure what was supposed to happen now, but he wasn't surprised. He stared at his hands, the sensation like a light scratch under his skin. Would he just flicker out of existence? Would he die slowly? Whatever it was, it had started. Would it hurt? He didn't want to die in pain.

His answer came soon enough. His hands began to glow, a bright yellow starting at his fingertips. The very tips of his fingers began falling apart into tiny little yellow cubes. He watched in wonder and fascination as the little blocks floated into the air and faded out. It didn't hurt. It felt like a buzz coursing through him. Just the slightest vibrations.

The cubes multiplied and more and more of his hand dissipated. He wasn't afraid. He didn't try to stop it. He wasn't even upset. He thought of Harry's warm eyes. A distant memory, one of the last one he had left.

They were curled up on the couch together, just staring at each other, a mug of hot tea clutched in Louis' hands. Hands that were now slowly disappearing. Harry's hands were carding through his hair, gently scratching at the scalp. Caringly. And those eyes. They still bore into him, so full and loving, building a home in the pools of his blue eyes. Like Louis was the sun and worth staring at, even if it burned. Like he never wanted to look away. Louis closed his eyes, breathing in the last of the memory. And like a thousand others, letting it go.

That was the price. A second chance in exchange for his memories.

But he didn't lose Harry's eyes. He clutched onto them. As his arms were falling apart, yellow cubes floating all around him like flickering candles. Even them, he thought of those eyes, never stopped picturing them.

He looked up at the sky. He imagined his mother looking back. His shoulder disappeared almost unnoticed. What would she think of his choice? Did she think he had made the right one? He looked back down at himself, at the arms he no longer had and his fading legs. He looked up, not sure why.

His breath hitched and he was sure he must have already died. Somewhere in-between worlds or hallucinating. He couldn't breathe. There she was. His mother. She was less than three metres away, walking towards him. He could see her, but he knew she couldn't see him. He was hidden in the shadows as he faded. He watched her. Her brow was sketched in worry and she looked left and right, in search for her son.

He was right here.

Louis wanted to call out that he was right here, but he wasn't. He was nothing more than a shadow. Jay looked beautiful. She was wearing jeans and a cardigan, just like he had always known her to. Louis had never seen a more beautiful woman in his life. His mom. So much younger. It broke his heart.

For the first time in six years. He was seeing her for the first time in six years. Never had that time seemed as long as it did now. It was everything he had wanted the moment her heart had stopped. But what did it matter? In seconds, he wouldn't exist anymore and he never would have done. He didn't care. This was enough.

Dizziness overtook him and he closed his eyes. Everything blurred yellow around him and he didn't think he had a voice to speak anymore. Green eyes trailed him into the darkness, kind and welcoming and bursting, flooding over, with love.