Lottie brought Lucky over that evening, and Harry watched Louis play with the baby on the floor in their sitting area. He watched him make those horrendous faces just to get a giggle out of the boy. It was as if that moment in the kitchen had never happened, because nobody was allowed to see Louis so vulnerable. Nobody but Harry.
"How is he doing? He looks so thin." Lottie asked quietly.
"He's a bit better. He's actually gained a little weight back after new medication." Harry informed her. She chewed on her bottom lip as she watched the two. Harry had an overwhelming feeling of dread wash over him. She'd already lost a sibling and a mother, how would she cope?
"How long did they say he had?" She asked, her voice shook. Harry's gut did a flip flop.
"Doctors said about 5 months with his condition. But I dunno, as well as he has been so far..." he didn't want to voice his own naive thoughts to her. He was hopeful, so hopeful that the doctors were wrong somehow, that they had made some sort of mistake, because how could someone who was currently playing peek-a-boo with a baby going to die so quickly? It didn't make sense. He wanted them to be wrong.
"Am I stupid for being hopeful?" He found himself asking. She looked almost as exhausted as he felt nowadays.
"No." She sighed. "I was always hopeful with mum, but I suppose... I suppose everyone's always hopeful. That doesn't make you stupid, Harry. That makes you human."
When he looked at Louis again, smiling and laughing, he almost couldn't believe it. Because just last week he was smoking a cigarette and poking his dimple, he was laughing at the ridiculous outfits he tried on when they were just a tad too much, he was telling him all these things, all these hopes and dreams and the kids he wanted but now could never have. Because he was the one who told Harry that it was okay, it was okay if he wasn't happy all the time. And so what about what other people thought? There was always going to be someone who didn't like what you were doing, so you might as well do what you like anyway. So, what if they made fun of his hair style or his concert outfit for that night? Who cares who he was dating or what he did on his free time. Louis was the one who taught him not to care. Because words can hurt sometimes, but they're just words. And it was so difficult to look at him, to remember all of those things he had done for him, just for this to be his fate.
"He's going to keep pretending that he's alright for so long, Harry." She continued. "That's just who he is. One day soon, it just won't be that way anymore." Harry had to pretend there was something in his eye, he had to pretend something was wrong so it wasn't blatantly obvious that he was holding in tears. This was hard, this was so damn hard and he didn't want to do it anymore.
"It's so hard." His voice cracked on the last word, the first crack in the wall he had worked so hard to build up.
"I know. It's only going to get harder." Lottie was openly crying now, tears streaked through her makeup and she was dabbing at her face with a napkin. "I don't want him to go either."
Harry didn't have anything else to say, not really. He wanted to reassure her, make sure she knew that he wasn't going anywhere, but there was no use anymore. There was no point in beating around the bush. They could only live in the now, in the before, and try to keep the after from coming so soon.
"It's hard to imagine a world without Louis." Harry murmured. Lottie raised her head to the ceiling and let loose a long breath.
"Alright!" Lottie suddenly cut in and stepped toward the pair. Louis and Lucky looked up at her simultaneously as she approached. "Lucky's got to catch a nap soon, so we best be going."
"Lotts, why are you crying?" He glanced at Harry, but he had nothing to say. He was just grateful that he had managed to keep himself together for that long.
