A World Without Augusts

24

Louis woke up with an uncomfortable lodging in his throat. Harry was folding the clothes strewn about the room while Louis pretended to be asleep. The pain encompassing his entire body was far too much for him to look at him yet.

The lump in Louis' throat grew with every passing minute as he watched Harry dress himself. The scarf he had stolen was still in those jeans and he pulled them on again.

"We have fifteen minutes before your boat leaves the dock," Harry broke the silence.

"Will you walk with me?" he asked, eyeing the room. Harry nodded, that melancholic smile never leaving his lips.

"I love walking with you. I'd be crazy not to take the last opportunity I have at it," he chuckled and Louis didn't say anything, he couldn't. How was he supposed to respond to the statement that said 'I adore you so very much, don't you dare go.'?

The docks bore the ghosts of the people who were not there yet and Louis had never heard silence quite that loud. Harry waved at the helmsman while Louis stared at the very rocks he had wanted to throw himself against. That was until Harry walked into his face and foolishly said that he would take care of him.

Louis rubbed Brie's ears, smiling at the dopey face he got in return. Harry tapped his back and he stood back up on his feet much to her dismay. Maybe he belonged to Brie as much as he did to Harry.

"Your hair is so soft today," Harry whispered, fingers carding Louis' hair gently who closed his eyes, leaning into the hold.

"I used your shampoo, hope that's okay," he mumbled, smiling. His hair would smell like Harry's until he would wash it again.

"It's okay, of course, it's okay. I'll miss you,"

"I think Brie will miss me more but sure." He glanced at her curled around his leg. Harry chuckled, still staring at him fondly. "I'll miss you too, love," he said softly, staring at the rocks below.

"Take care of yourself okay?" he said softly, thumbing his cheek.

"You are me. Take care of me, please." Louis' voice was strained, eyes threatening to produce the tears he'd been holding in since God knows when. Harry nodded, pressing his lips to Louis'. His entire body trembled from all he refused to say and Louis held him closer. He was leaving behind things he didn't understand but things that were so very dear to him.

Louis waved goodbye to Harry as the boat departed from the island that was covered in a cloud of a love only they could understand. He could see Harry was freer with his tears when he thought Louis couldn't see him clearly anymore. Louis would end the world if it made Harry cry but it was his own damn self who was making Harry cry. His own tear ducts let loose as he buried his face in his hands. He was done for.

It was all a blur, right from when he got into a taxi at the docks at the mainland to when he was sat on a cold seat at the airport. And yet again, he was a stranger to the unfamiliar duty-free shops and the people flitting around. His nerves jittered and all his hand wanted was to hold Harry's warm ones but he was already so far away. He took off his jacket, placing it gently on the seat next to his. It was Harry's after all.

Gin and tonic swirled in the glass Louis was nursing in his hand. His seat was less than ideal, being stuck between a chatty middle-aged woman and her grumpy teenage son was never meant to be comfortable.

"Why are ya going to London then, lad?"

"I live there. I was here for...work," Louis said softly, wishing he could drown in Harry's scent that was radiating off the clothing.

"Any relatives live there? Ireland I mean,"

"No. Why were you there?"

"Ah well his dad is Irish and he moved there after the split. We visit every couple months," she went on and Louis nodded thoughtfully, slowly sipping his drink. He didn't give two flying fucks but his mum had taught him better so his impatient arse could sit the fuck down.

The air that greeted him as he walked out of the London airport was just an absence of the cold that he had grown used to. He hailed another taxi, getting in without asking the fare.

"Where to, mister?" the driver asked politely and Louis just hummed. "Where are you going?" he asked again.

"Oh uh Hackney. I'll guide you," he spoke suddenly, cheeks reddening from the embarrassment. He wasn't the absentminded kind. Harry had ruined him in the most painful way, Louis had actually become him.

His apartment smelled like clean laundry and flowers. Zayn. He could tell he had been there. The gauzy curtains were replaced with dark thicker ones, the carpet looked dry cleaned. A sticky note on it said 'Now you can sleep here. Surprised you didn't get sick from all the dust, you idiot.' His lips quirked up in a smile as he fell to the carpet on his knees. His best friend was the embodiment of all things that said subtle love and he was drowning it. Taking out his phone, he dialled his number.

"Louis! Are you back yet?" His voice was loud and Louis was grinning like a fool.

"Yeah, just saw your note. You actually burnt the curtains?"

"Don't be daft, that's way too much pollution. I sent them to Luke,"

"With what?"

"Fine, I cut them up and sent them to him with a note that said 'you're a bad lay anyway, fuckin slag'." Louis almost snorted at that.

"I know I don't say this often but I love you, Zayn," he said sincerely, rubbing the soft fabric he was sitting on.

"You're such a sap, you loser, I love you too,"

"How's Liam?"

"At work, being hot and bossy,"

"Why don't you go live out your fantasies and I'll go take a nap. Come by tonight, I'll make dinner,"

"I don't have any fantasies! I'll be there, bye." Zayn cut the call before Louis could go into heavy detail about the exact words Zayn would tell him if he got drunk enough. He got up and opened the suitcase. Everything in it was washed. Harry had done it without Louis' knowledge.

His entire body felt heavy as he returned the clothes to their place on his closet shelves. He didn't even have a picture of Harry. Not that he needed it but the idea of forgetting to take a picture of the prettiest thing he had ever seen made him want to kick himself. He shed his clothes in one motion but proceeded to keep them in the laundry bin instead of leaving them on the floor. The jacket went on the bed though. He flopped on the bed, slithering under the blanket he loved so much with that scarf he stole. He wondered if Harry would notice the things he had stolen, if he would spite Louis for the theft. Maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he wouldn't ask back for the things he had given Louis to hold.

"Rise and shine, young one," Liam's voice cut through Louis' dazed mind as the heavy blanket lifted off of him.

"Oh shit I was supposed to cook you two dinner," he groaned, falling back against the pillow.

"Zayn's taking care of that. I'd recommend you put all this in the wash before he sees it and throws a fit." He motioned towards the jacket and scarf.

"No! I can't wash them!" he blurted, immediately feeling his ears heat up.

"Why not? Since when do you wear scarves?"

"Since never. I'll put all this in the wash don't worry. Let me get dressed, it's cold," he said firmly and Liam shrugged, walking out of the door.

Louis shoved the jacket and scarf under the blanket before smoothing it out. His knees buckled as he fell to the bed again, lips wobbling before they finally gave away. There are kinds of deaths that don't involve a heart-stopping, that don't end in funerals, that doctors can't detect. He felt like he had died in that way when he left Harry. His heart wanted to stop to relieve him of the pain and embarrassment of what he was doing.