Lame Ringtone {l.s.}

six.

When he drove into Louis' parking lot, his door was wide open. His heart sunk as he rushed into the house to find it completely empty.

Something bad had to have happened to him because the paramedics were gone and so was Louis.

He ran back to his car and took off to the hospital, completely out of breath and light headed as he stumbled to the front desk.

"Louis. Tomlinson," He sobbed, earning many feared glances from people.

"Just wait here, I'll get his doctor."

Harry nodded his head, pacing the waiting room. It felt like the walls were closing in and the room was filling with poisonous gas that made it hard to breathe. He was just about to lose his s hit when someone said, "Excuse me?"

His head whipped around to face a man in a white coat.

"Are you here for Louis Tomlinson?"

"Yes! Please take me to him!" I begged.

The doctor stayed where he was at, a look of sadness washing over his face.

"No. No, no, no, no!" He screamed, falling to his knees, his hands pulling at his hair in a blind move to feel something. He needed Louis. In his arms. Smiling. Warm. Happy.

There was a hand on his shoulder as Harry lay in a fetal position on the ground, his body racking with each painful sob that escaped his body.

Why Louis? Why his Boobear?

The hand left his shoulder after quite sometime and he felt cold and empty inside. Harry was supposed to nurse Louis back to health, to make his smooth skin shine again. To make his eyes light up when Harry returned home. To kiss him senseless whenever he wanted to.

What now?

All he worked for for years had gone down the drain. Louis was gone.

Gone.

The reality of it all caused nausea to consume him and he started to cry out helplessly, before he felt arms start to drag him away.