The day had already been monumentally shitty. The worst of the worst days. An absolute steaming-pile-of-crap day. So, really, it was only natural to finish it with a perfect cherry on top - his call from Death-Cast.
He was alone when the unmistakabl...
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𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝙳𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟸𝟷𝚜𝚝, 𝟷:𝟸𝟷𝚊𝚖
Even with Louis' comforting words and gentle massaging on his back, Harry still felt his insides eating him alive. Like a parasite, he was his own worst enemy and would ultimately be his own downfall. He was sure of it. It was karma; it had to be. It was his punishment for all of the mistakes he made again and again in his life. For all of the errors he made taking care of Ashton, for all of the petty arguments he started with Louis, for every self-indulgent choice he ever made. It was all coming back to bite him in the ass, and he was confident he would pay for it all in Hell.
"You're not going to Hell, love," Louis assured his husband in a low voice, tone sweet like honey but still unnerving to Harry because Louis was never this calm - especially not in a situation like this. He was supposed to be freaking out, even more than Harry himself was. "If there's an afterlife, you're gonna get the best of it. I'm sure of it."
"How do you know?" Harry whispered, daring to peek over his shoulder at his husband, finding the man to be watching him with a melancholic endearment.
"Because," Louis smiled sadly, "you're the best person I've ever met, babe. How you don't see it is beyond me, but you're the last person going to Hell. After everything you've done? The sacrifices you've made? You've got a better chance of seeing the pearly gates than a nun, love."
Harry turned back to study the quilt beneath him, picking at loose threads and remaining silent for a moment. He took a deep, shaky breath before he finally spoke again. "What will you do? I mean... you'll be alone."
Harry felt Louis' fingers move up to his hair, tugging through the tangled curls for a moment before placing a kiss atop the taller man's head. He hummed, taking a moment to think before giving Harry his answer.
"I'll miss you, of course. And the kid. I dunno... maybe I'll go home for a few months. Help Mum take care of the kids. Can't imagine this place would feel the same without you two around." His voice wavered, not much, but just enough that Harry could hear it.
"That sounds nice." Harry was thankful Louis couldn't see his face, because it was at that moment that a flood of tears streamed down his cheeks and he felt his skin burn at a thousand degrees at the thought of having to leave Louis so soon. The idea of 'the lasts' kept running through his mind. Was this the last time he'd ever lay with Louis in bed? Was this the last time he'd feel his husband's fingers in his hair? Was this the last time he would feel anything? He'd always been scared of the future, but this was absolutely terrifying. A storming bout of anxiety bubbled in his stomach as he tried desperately to keep himself calm. He didn't want to spend his last day on Earth scared. He wanted to spend it happy and content, because he had everything he wanted in life. Which was, for all intents and purposes, true. He had the perfect husband, all the money he could dream of spending, and a kid to dote on and give all of his unending affection to. Still, maybe it was greedy, but he wanted more. He wanted more life and he felt like he was being robbed of it. It simply wasn't fair, and, most of all, he was angry. He was angry at the whole thing. He wasn't ready to die. He wasn't ready to say goodbye to the love of his life. This fucking sucked - royally.
