"Where are we?"
Louis looked around, his mind wondering the same question. Where was he?
He glanced around again, taking in what he saw; a large body of water sat before him, and he was standing in sand, and watched as little waves splashed against the shoreline. Currently, he was standing against a tree, looking into the distance—which consisted of nothing.
And next to him, was Harry Styles, adorably confused.
"How did I get here?" Louis heard him again.
Of course Louis knew the answer—it had been haunting him for months. But he didn't want to tell Harry that. At least…not yet.
Because then, he might have more of a reason to leave him. Again.
"I'm not sure, love." Louis said softly, trying to console the nervous boy, "In fact, I don't know how I got here, either."
Louis sighed and took another look around before he heard Harry's voice coming from a slight distance. He sounded strained, wounded even. And Louis turned around briskly only to have his suspicions confirmed.
"I want to sit down." He saw Harry clutching his head before sitting down against the tree, his back against the trunk. Louis rushed to his side,
"Harry, are you alright?" Harry shook his head and squeezed his temples,
"My head…it's pounding Louis."
Louis reached over and cradled Harry's head, letting it into his lap. He stroked his hair softly, trying to relieve him of his pain.
"Shh, it's okay Harry. It's okay."
Harry shuddered and let Louis hold him, but it wasn't before long that he was screaming in pain again. He grabbed both sides of his head with his hands and curled up in Louis' lap, breathing heavily,
"Why won't this just go away!" He cried in agony.
Louis looked around for something, anything that might make Harry feel better. But they were at a beach—the only thing that could possibly help Harry would be to drink water—but not even that was good, considering it was salt water.
Louis looked back down at the sick boy with shame—there was nothing he could do to help him.
It was a terrible thing to face.
Louis sighed and continued to hold Harry, bringing him closer to his chest. He spoke quickly, almost frantically, as if he knew he didn't have that much time.
"How about I sing to you, yeah? Do you want me to do that, Harry?" I'll do anything for you.
Harry only groaned and nodded in response, and turned his head so he was facing Louis. Louis sighed deeply and softly caressed Harry's cheek, and he began to sing.
If I don't say this now I will surely break
As I'm leaving the one I want to take
Forgive the urgency but hurry up and wait
My heart has started to separate
Harry seemed to ease up at the familiar tune and closed his eyes, taking a sigh of relief. Louis grinned, letting his hand run over Harry's forehead, wiping the mass of curls from his eyes. Harry blinked and gazed up at him, his dimples present with his wide smile.
Oh, oh, oh
Be my baby
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh
I'll look after you
There now, steady love, so few come and don't go
Will you, won't you be the one I always know?
When I'm losing my control, the city spins around
You're the only one who knows, you slow it down—
Harry groaned loudly, clutching his head and then suddenly, his gut. He moaned again, crawling over Louis and onto his side again. He began rocking back and forth, as if that would relieve of him the pain. Louis, with a startled look on his face, crawled over to Harry, who was now, as if by magic, by the shore line. He reached out and grabbed Harry, pulling him back into his arms.
"Louis!" Harry croaked.
"It's okay, love. I'm here." He held him close. I've got you. I'm not going to let you go. I'm not letting you go anywhere."
Harry shivered in his arms and he could feel him clutch tightly onto his t-shirt. His breathing was getting shallower with each second that passed, and Louis was starting to panic.
It was only a few moments later that Harry spoke, his voice hardly a whisper,
"Louis, I can't do this. I can't be here. I have to go."
Louis looked down, panic flushing across his face in a flash, "What? No, you can't!
"The pain—Lou—I can't live with this—" Harry winced, now clutching his gut—for dear life. His eyes grew wider with every breath he took.
Louis dragged a hand down his face, his eyes welling up with tears, "Well try damn it! For God's sake, try! Try! Try for me!"
"You know I'd try for you if I could, Louis." Harry croaked, looked up from Louis' lap with sorrow. He spoke again, "You're the only person worth trying for. But I…I can't." He panted slightly, his eyes wincing again. Louis reached out to hold his hand and Harry squeezed it. "It hurts everywhere. I wish it wasn't like this." His light eyes were losing its normal twinkle, and Louis knew he didn't have a lot of time.
"Don't do this!" Louis begged desperately, "Don't leave me again!" He looked around in fear, and spoke softly, only to himself, "Why does this keep happening to me?"
Harry began to get heavier in his arms, and Louis held onto him harder, grabbing whatever body part he could, as if his hands would heal him, "Don't leave me, Harry. Please. Stay, I'll take care of you."
"It's too late." Harry said, his eyes beginning to close.
"No, it's not. It's never too late."
"Let me go, Louis." Harry said with a hitched breath.
"I can't. I won't." Louis protested.
"You have to. Please, for me, Louis. Try to let go, for me."
"Please, you can't leave me. You always leave me, Harry!"
Harry closed his eyes and said tearfully, "I'm breaking."
"I'll fix you!"
"Louis…" He breathed.
"I love you, Harry!"
And then, just like always, right on schedule, Harry vanished from Louis' sight.
Louis stared blankly out of the window of the dance studio. That seemed to be all he did nowadays—stare and blink. Stare and blink. Remember to breathe. Stare. Blink. Nod accordingly. Stare.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
Louis thought no one would notice his distance. He thought at least for his sake, his lack of attentiveness would be ignored. He assumed everyone would leave him know—because they knew he was hurting.
Clearly to everyone around him, this was a stupid thought.
"Hey, Lou!"
Louis' turned slowly away from the window towards the source of the buzzing that sounded a lot like his name.
"Louis!"
He turned completely and saw Niall holding up two sandwiches with a huge grin on his face, "Come on, lad! We're going to eat!" Niall's bright eyes met Louis', and his wide smile turned slowly into a frown,
"You…you are going to eat, aren't you?" He asked worriedly, walking over to Louis. Louis looked up at him and sighed defeated.
True to Liam's word, the other boys of One Direction had been trying very diligently to get Louis' spirits up. They took him wherever they went—whether it be a movie, miniature golfing, or for just a stroll down to a nearby park. And Louis put on a strong face for them. He tried to be happier for them. But when it came down to it—trying to change for them wasn't helping him. If he wanted to move on, he concluded, he needed to do it for himself.
And right now, he couldn't bring himself to do that—because moving on to him meant forgetting. And why the fuck would he want to forget the greatest thing that ever walked into his life?
"Lou?"
Louis blinked and shook his head, smiling softly at Niall, "Yea Niall?"
Niall handed him the sandwich, "Are you going to eat?"
Louis nodded and weakly smiled. He took the sandwich slowly from Niall's hands, and the Irish native excitedly took the seat next to him,
"So Lou—"
"Yes, Niall?"
"You excited for our next performance then? It's going to be huge, you know. I really can't wait—you hear Simon? He said I might get to play my guitar!"
Louis smiled graciously. Niall was always so chipper after rehearsals, and he appreciated the normalcy that Niall produced. Out of all of the boys, Niall was careful to not act differently around him since Harry's death. He was still the goofy, silly, adorable, Irish, eating-obsessed Niall he loved.
Liam, the dad-type figure of the group, always gave Louis a sympathetic smile whenever the opportunity arose. And Zayn, also taking the death of Harry hard, just chose not to really speak to Louis. When he acknowledged him, he gave Louis a sincere pat on the shoulder and his head always fell, so he was staring at the floor, as if the ground would suddenly give him the answers everyone wished they could have.
"Why did Harry have to die?"
"What did he do to deserve this?"
"He had such a good future ahead of him, just…why was he taken from me?"
And for Louis, his personal favorite,
"Why wasn't it me instead?"
Louis shook his head and wiped a stray tear from his eye, sniffing loudly, and using the food as comfort. Niall, always observant, took note of this and wrapped an arm around his friend, rubbing his shoulder lovingly,
"What's the matter, Lou?"
"Everything." Louis muttered, taking another small bite of his sandwich, taking note that it tasted completely bland.
Niall shrugged, but smiled, trying to be enthusiastic, "Well, that can't be true. Not everything in this world is terrible, ya know."
"It is for me."
"Well—" Niall began, but another voice cut him off,
"You're not the only person who's lost someone, Louis."
Both boys whipped their heads around towards the door of the studio and their eyes met Zayn's, who looked positively dreadful.
Louis stood up defensively. He softened his voice, trying not to start a fight, "I know that, Zayn. Of course I do—"
"Then you should stop acting like you're the only one who has lost someone! We were friends with him too—We loved him too!" Zayn retorted sternly.
Louis' clenched his fists into tight balls, his fingernails digging hard into his palm; he was surprised they hadn't started to bleed. He understood Zayn, but what he didn't understand was how they were able to go on with their daily lives and not feel pain. What he didn't understand was why he was miserable, and everyone else seemed to be all fucking fine and dandy.
"I know you did! Jesus, I know you loved him. But why am I the only one who seems to give a shit about Harry being dead!" He felt his anger suddenly boil at its peak, and he knew nothing could stop him now, "What I don't understand," Louis began darkly, "Is how all of you can rehearse and sing and be happy without him here! How can all of you be without him and not feel anything? How?"
"Just because we aren't moping around doesn't mean we don't care! Everyone grieves differently, Lou!" Zayn exclaimed, slamming his fist down on the table. His eyes were wide and wet and he was breathing in heavy pants. Normally this would cause concern in Louis, but at this point he could care less.
"That's not fair! He was our best friend! How can you so easily not feel anything after you've lost a best friend?" Louis could feel his tears drip down his face, but he refused to wipe them away.
"Just because I don't show you what I'm feeling doesn't mean I don't feel anything! Everyone deals with death in different ways—but you…you need to try and move on Lou. This is getting out of hand! We've all moved on, why can't you?" Zayn asked harshly, but soft enough so Louis understood there was a part of him that cared to know.
"I can't move on…because I can't." Louis sighed and placed his hands on his hips, crushed, "You said everyone deals with death differently, right?" Zayn and Niall nodded in agreement and Louis continued, "So let me deal with this my way. Just," a pause, "Leave me alone about it."
With that, Louis picked up his bag and stormed out of the rehearsal room, the sob he had been holding in echoing through the walls and ringing in Zayn and Niall's ears.
The walk back to his flat turned out to be longer than Louis had anticipated, yet a mere two hours later, Louis was dragging his feet through his front door, making sure to pick up the mail on his way in.
He tossed off his shoes and found his way to the couch, still holding his mail. He rubbed his tear soaked eyes, realizing he had cried all of the way home. He felt terrible for the fight he had gotten into with Zayn. He knew Zayn didn't understand what he was feeling, but that wasn't particularly his fault. Louis shook his head and leaned back into his couch, feeling his phone vibrate for the umpteenth time.
He took out his phone and saw he had 12 missed calls and two texts.
Four calls were from Zayn, four calls were from Niall, and four calls were from Liam.
Louis had to laugh—so typical of the boys to call equal amounts of times. He opened his phone to its messages page and opened the first one.
From: Liam
Call me, please. I need to make sure you're alright.
Louis sighed and opened the next one, deciding to handle that text later.
From: Zayn
Call me, please Lou. I want to understand. I need to. You're my brother, and I feel like I'm losing you.
Z
Louis felt guilt in the put of his stomach and he groaned. He glanced at the text again and threw the phone onto the other side of the couch. He wasn't ready to face the demons that were haunting him.
Actually, he wasn't sure if he'd ever be ready. Louis already had issues that he battled and conquered with the help of Harry.
But now that he was gone, he had no one to help him. No one to make sure he was getting by.
So he didn't know for sure if he would ever be okay with facing this alone. And that terrified him.
He took a deep breath and decided to take a look at his mail, simply for something to do.
Men's magazine. He tossed it onto the coffee table.
Just the electric bill. He threw it to the floor, deciding to let Simon deal with it tomorrow.
Another bill. Onto the floor.
Coupon book. The floor.
Hospital bill. The floor—
A hospital bill?
Louis picked it up carefully, glancing at the return address. He winced; as the return address was the same hospital that Harry was taken to before he died.
Louis inspected the envelope. Why would he be getting a hospital bill? The accident was a bit less than three months ago.
Louis wasted no time in opening the envelope. He emptied out the contents of it and started reading through the papers. He noticed the bill was for a room charge, but there was also a statement attached.
He felt his heart drop to his stomach as he read the statement, key words popping out at him as he quickly read through it;
Bleeding throughout the skull, and there was much brain damage—
Abdomen punctured badly. Death on impact—
Little to no chance of survival—
Louis threw the papers out of his hands, unable to read anymore of the statement. He was silent for what seemed like hours. Why was he getting this statement? He didn't understand, he thought Harry's parents were dealing with his hospital bills.
"What does this mean?" Louis wondered aloud, "Does this mean anything?" He looked at the statement again.
Could this mean something…more?
The thought was immediately shut down by the voices of Zayn in his head, "This is getting out of hand! We've all moved on, why can't you?"
Louis shook his head and face palmed.
"The bill doesn't mean anything," He said to himself sternly, trying to convince himself, "It's a mistake. A fluke in the system. I'll give it to Simon tomorrow and it will be done with."
Louis nodded contently and put the hospital bill on the floor with the others. He stood up and headed upstairs. He turned to look back at the hospital bill and had a worry glint in his eye. He knew he should try to move on and forget about it, but he couldn't.
Because he knew this was going to be yet another thing that was going to haunt him.