Why didn't he come?" Louis asked after everyone had left for the night. Exhaustion riddled his face and if it was possible, he had grown even more pale than before. Feigning happiness while everyone was over seemed to have taken its tole on him.
"I don't know, darling." Harry replied. They were held up in bed now, Louis was draped with a single throw blanket since he often had to sprint to the bathroom to vomit. He was talking about Zayn of course. He was probably the closest one to Zayn before he left the band, before he erased their numbers from his phone and acted like they were nothing to him. Like they meant nothing at all. Harry would be lying if he said that didn't hurt, after all those years of being such close friends, you would think they'd meant something to him. Of course not. He was just too good at putting up a front. Harry could hardly blame Zayn for what he'd done though, he had his struggles while they were in the band, hell they all did, but he would never stop wondering why he pushed them away.
"I really thought he would be there." Louis yawned and rubbed his eyes. If his face wasn't consistently scrunched into an expression of pain, Harry would've thought he resembled a baby kitten.
"I know." Harry replied softly. He didn't know what he could say to comfort him, or what he could do. "I did too."
"I miss him." Louis whispered. Harry rubbed his shoulders softly, trying to ease some of the tension that had built there.
"I know, Boo." Harry thought he had drifted off to sleep after a while, so he watched his chest rise and fall in deep, long breaths. He didn't know when he had gotten into the habit, watching his chest. He even let his hand rest there so he could feel it rise and fall. And he couldn't stop now that he'd started. So, he watched. He made sure that it was still moving, slowly but surely into the night.
"Don't go." He whispered into the darkness of the room. Louis would never hear him, if he did, he would tell him he was there. He was going to stay. Because he wasn't just a person, he was a memory, a voice, he was Harry's true love and that would always be right. Louis would always be there. He shook his head to clear away those thoughts. He didn't want to think about life after Louis. Not now. Not when they still had time. He had to focus on the now. On the during.
He only realized he'd fallen asleep when he was jolted awake. Louis had sprung out of bed and hustled to the bathroom. With his heart pounding, Harry was not far behind him. He made it in the bathroom just in time to watch Louis slump to the side of the toilet, his chest heaving. Harry filled a glass and quickly returned, coaxing it to his lips.
"Have to drink some, darling." Harry said softly, hoping he would open his mouth. He managed to dribble some water on his tongue. Louis blinked sleepily at him; his eyes trained on the water in his hand as he set it on the floor. "I'll call your doctor tomorrow. Maybe they can prescribe you something so you're not so sick all the time." Harry said gently.
"Thanks." Louis breathed. "Love you." Harry helped him to his feet and together they lumbered across the floor until Louis was snuggled up in bed. He tried not to dwell on the fact that Louis had put up no argument when he brought up the doctor's again, tried to pretend that it didn't send a knife straight to his heart, but it was already becoming too difficult. Harry cocooned him in blankets this time, made sure he was nice and warm before he laid down beside him. He started to hum, hoping that would keep himself up longer so he could keep an eye on Louis.
"Use that voice of yours, love." It was soft, distant, and Harry almost missed it. But that soft croak of a voice caught in his ear as soon as it had left Louis's lips.
"What?" Harry asked.
"Anything." Harry thought for a moment and yeah, he supposed he would sing something. So gently, he coerced the rasp from his throat and began.
"Together we're alone
Both of us agreeing
No one needs to know
That you're already home
You don't have to go
Cause you're already home,"
Over and over, he repeated the chorus to a song he had been working on forever, trying to find the right lyrics, the right rhythm. Maybe this was it. So instead of focusing on Louis, he found himself thinking about the song. Maybe that was how he would make it through all of this.
