The sun stopped rising on January 21st. 11 days before Harry's birthday. It was 01:32 when Harry's hand stopped moving with Louis's chest. When his body went still in his arms. When his heart stopped beating. But Harry didn't cry. He supposed it was the shock of it all, his denial that any of it had actually happened. Because he was so sure that if he just laid there a while longer, his chest would start moving again. So he waited, and waited, for hours and hours, just for his heart to start beating, for his chest to start moving. Because he was so sure that he would see those ocean eyes again, hear the sweet sounds of his voice and feel the warmth of his fingertips. Louis would wake him and call him a cheeky bastard, or tell him he loved him, or even call him Hazza again. But when 3 he still didn't move, he had to accept it. He called the ambulance, and watched them take him away.
He didn't cry when he called everyone. Louis's sisters, the boys, his mum. He didn't cry when he saw that awful green hoodie draped over the back of the couch, or the last bag of tea in the cabinet, or even when he saw the half drank bottle of red on the countertop. He didn't cry.
Not even when Lottie arrived with her other sisters, or when Niall and Liam walked through the door. He didn't cry when his mother showed up, or Gemma. He didn't cry when Bruce was whining at the door. He didn't cry until he saw Zayn. Seeing Zayn at his door somehow brought it all back, so when he saw him, blotchy eyes and slouched over himself, Harry's knees went weak and he collapsed. His knees hit the floor and he buried his face in his hands, trying to withhold every sob and hiccup that escaped his lips.
Everyone huddled around him, draped their arms over each other because somehow they would get through this tragedy. And they would have to do it together.
After everyone left for the night, apart from Zayn, Liam and Niall, who made camp in his living room, Harry set off for bed with that green hoodie clutched tightly in his fist. He found his laptop and opened it up, then he dug through the side table until he found the flash drive. His hands shook as he plugged it into the computer and waited for it to start up. It was a voice memo. His brow furrowed, wondering when Louis could have possibly recorded this. But he took a deep breath and pressed play.
"Hey, Haz. It's- it's a Louis. I suppose you knew that already. I feel like a fuckin idiot right now but ehm- I wanted you to have something from me that was just for you. So, I just wanted to tell you that you don't have to be strong all the time, okay? I know you're stubborn and you'll isolate yourself from everyone, and you tell them all you're okay when you're not, but don't you do that, Harry. Okay? I don't want to see you in the after for a long time, alright? It's okay not to be okay- shit that's fuckin cheesy- but yknow what, it's true. You can fall apart sometimes, and as long as you pull yourself together in the end. Anyway-" he paused to laugh. "Sorry Niall's being a fuckin idiot in the other room- uh anyway. It's okay. You don't have to be strong for me anymore, love. I know you're going to try your best every day and I can't tell you what that means to me. But I suppose it's over now. When you're watching this. And it's okay. I can't hurt anymore. Don't drag yourself down because of this. I'm okay. And I love you. So, uh goodbye, Harry."
Harry replayed it again, and again, and then once more. He never thought he would hear his voice again, not saying anything just for him, not saying he loved him. But here it was. And it was all his. And his laugh, Christ his laugh. He would never get tired of hearing his laugh and now he had it, forever immortalized and just for him. This was the best gift he could have gave Harry. He shut the laptop and wiped the tears off his face.
"Harry?" There was a knock at the door. Zayn stood there, looking at him. His body nothing but a black outline against the light of the hallway.
"I'm okay." Harry said softly, closing the laptop and putting it away.
"Okay." Zayn shuffled his feet and turned to leave but he paused with his hand on the door frame. "Uh, Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"What if.... What if I'm not okay?" Harry looked at him for a long time before he gently patted the bed. The mattress sunk slightly with Zayn's weight, and it was an odd feeling, having someone else in his bed so soon. Even if it was just Zayn. He laid on Harry's side of the bed, and Harry laid on what once was Louis's. They laid there for a while, just in silence. Harry hadn't had the will to turn on the tv yet, or look at his phone, or do anything that was remotely similar to what he used to do on his free time. He just laid there, wondering when the smell of Louis would eventually fade from the bed.
"I wish I was around more. I can't stop thinking about how much I missed." Zayn whispered finally. Harry shifted uncomfortably in the bed, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.
"Why did you leave? Why didn't you talk to us?" Harry asked him. Finally voicing thoughts he had had for so long.
"I don't know." Zayn said quietly. For a small man, his warmth flooded quickly through the bed. But he missed this. He missed Zayn. And it didn't really hit him until today, until just now. "I just felt....so alone back then. I thought if I said something it would just make it worse. Everything that we went through, H.... We were just kids. It was so fucked, mate."
"We..we knew you were struggling, Z. You could have talked to us. We would've understood. You didn't have to push us away." Harry said.
"I know that now." Zayn sighed.
"Why didn't you reach out to us?" Harry whispered, his voice barely audible through the thick silence.
"I was afraid." He replied, almost just as softly as Harry had spoken moments before. "You didn't seem to happy to see me when I got here. That kind of solidified that for me."
"I...I was angry at first." Harry admitted sheepishly. He never once thought about how Zayn would have felt at his reaction when he walked in the door. Only how angry he felt at him for not showing up for Louis. "But I was so happy to see you, Z. I missed you. We all did."
"I wish I would have come sooner, Harry. And honestly, shit I didn't want to tell you this but I got some of the messages you sent. I saw the ones Louis sent me, at least-"
"Louis messaged you?" Harry asked, bewildered.
"On Twitter." Zayn admitted. "But he never told me he was sick. If he would have just said that, I would've come right away."
"He wouldn't have wanted you to come just because he was sick. He wanted you to come because you were his best friend." Zayn was quiet for a long time, and Harry thought he had offended him. Maybe he had, and part of him wish he did because Zayn had to understand.
"I know. I'm sorry." Zayn whispered. Harry rolled over and faced Zayn in the bed, the light from the alarm clock illuminated his face.
"You showed up when it mattered, Z. It's okay." Harry squeezed his shoulder. It was strange, Harry thought, not to be so intimate with someone in his bed. Because that someone was always Louis. "You can stay here as long as you want."
"Thanks, Harry." They we're quiet for a long time again before there was another knock on the door. Harry looked up, and there stood Niall and Liam. Niall had wrapped himself in the same blanket Louis always used. If he knew that, Harry would never know. Liam stood next to him, his arms wrapped around himself. Harry didn't need them to say anything for him to invite them in the bed.
"Do you think it'll ever stop hurting?" Zayn asked after they were all comfortable. Harry was positioned between Zayn and Niall, with Liam on the other end. Harry pondered this, wondering if he should at least try to comfort him in some way. Because he couldn't imagine having this much pain for the rest of his life.
"No. I don't think so. But it'll get easier. He knew we would be okay without him." Liam whispered into the dark. Harry could hear Niall sniffling next to him, but having everyone around him was so comforting. It was so nice, that for some reason Harry believed him.
"We'll be alright."
