with everything in me - l.s

chapter fourteen

Harry was presently smacking his hands on the door of Niall's flat, howling nothings into the general orientation of the entrance as if to get his message across.

"Niall, open the door."

Nonentity.

"All right, I'm coming in."

Niall had lent Harry multiple spare keys for his flat since Niall used to instruct him back when Harry was neglecting math in such a tormenting description that he'd of been booted out of Uni if it persisted.

How funny it is.

Harry slipped the copper key out of the pocket of his sweater (it was proper freezing) and shakily nudged the key into the keyhole of the knob. He had to switch the direction of the key only two times because he was, evidently, incompetent when it came to inserting keys into keyholes. Once the lock finally made the noise of entry, Harry let out a groan of solace, because who in the hell takes basically two minutes to unlock a door? With that, he opened the door and enticed himself in, dimples in play and everything, and looked around the living room with an expecting tinge on his countenance. "Ni?" Harry called, returning the key to its initial place in his pocket.

The tap of his shoes on the hardwood floor as he made his way into the living room was the only thing to be heard inside the walls of Niall's residence.

Niall was curled up on his settee, weeping gruffly and shaking violently. He was draped in a weighted blanket that Harry had endowed to him for a flat-warming gift, and from Harry's stature in the living room, he could already tell how clammy the blanket would be due to Niagra Falls spewing out of Niall's eyes. He had not a single inkling of how long his mate had been shrieking for, but it looked like he was suitably fucked up, to say the least.

"Ni, are you alright?" Cooed Harry, speeding up to Niall's viewpoint and clamping his shoulders in a consolation aspect. Niall jerked out of Harry's touch hastier than he's ever stridden in his life, lifting his head from the blanket with not much more than a scoff. "You don't get to come here and act as you care. You let him die, fucker. So, to hell with you,"

Niall was a proper bunch, and he obviously inclined toward the company of no one.

"What are you talking about?"

"Louis died alone, Harry. Did you even know?"

"No, he didn't, Niall. He didn't die. What are you on?"

"He wrote you a letter. He knew he'd pass soon, and he said you needn't worry. He told everyone but you that he was going to die. He has- sorry, had- a brain tumor or some shite,"

"He can't be dead. That isn't even possible," Harry was approaching hysterics, and his fingers dug assertively into his palms. He was trying to recall Louis' whereabouts of the last night, and when he came up to a predominant theme, he ceased breathing.

Louis really was dead.

The man he wanted to say everything and then some to was actually lifeless. They were determined to fix everything and be together like he both recognized they would be. Surely the things they did meant something- did they?

"No." Harry hissed through clenched teeth, smashing a nearby vase from the countertop to the floor.

Niall's eyes shot open, locking eyes with the boy before him. "Fucking quit it, Harry."

"We're just kids."

Louis was gone before Harry could even begin to explain how ample of an indispensable story he was to Harry's sporadic world.

And whilst coming to that realization, he withdrew an enveloped letter from his sweater pocket and brushed the pad of his thumb over the paper. He sat next to Niall, speaking nothing in return.

Niall's head fell onto Harry's shoulder, and all Harry could to listen to the weeps and sobs of his. A friend that was once the backbone to him and his soulmate.

"We'll be all right," Harry murmured into the satiny blonde highlights of Niall's hair, commandeering his arms around Niall's torso and heaving him impossibly near.

"Mhm." Niall eventually mustered, letting himself be taken ahold of.

"Lou wrote me this." Harry held up the envelope with a dilapidated grin, feeling hot tears roll down the sides of his face immediately.

"Oh, did he? He's always been such a romantic, yeah?"

They laughed.

Though, how were they able to extrapolate how to operate properly when the individual that held them together was gone perpetually?

Their sun.

Louis was the sun and all of his mates were the orbiting planets.

They'd be all right with the mere idea that Louis will be looking down on them whenever he gets the chance.

"I'll see him in another life. This one wasn't fit for us." Finalized Harry, pressing his lips softly to the delicate paper placed between his fingers.

———

the end.

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