he dies at the end / l.s. + m.c.

12. loving and being loved

𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚢
𝙳𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟸𝟷𝚜𝚝, 𝟹:𝟸𝟶𝚊𝚖

Harry didn't know what to say or how to act around Louis. He didn't know whether he wanted to be comforted or be the one doing the comforting. Because, on the one hand, he was dying. But, on the other, Louis was going to be left behind. He wasn't sure which one was worse in the whole scheme of things. He knew that the old woman next door to him when he was growing up would say it was worse to die. She would say that a man who loves another man was going to Hell, and that was the worst thing that could happen to a person. She talked of burning flames and searing flesh. Harry didn't know if he bought into that, but, as death rapidly approached, he knew he couldn't be sure either way. What if she was right? What if all the dirty looks he got when he deigned to go out in public meant something? What if he was wrong and he was going to pay for it?

He knew that he loved Louis, though. He really loved him. He loved Louis in a way that made the world feel like something new every day. He wondered how something could be wrong if it felt so right.

Harry could hear the quiet breathing behind him that said Louis had likely dozed off waiting for Harry to say something. He was tired himself but every time he felt himself begin to drop off, he would snap back to attention out of pure fear of what would happen if he let himself fully fall asleep.

He thought vaguely of how boring this day was. Or, well, not boring per say, but, rather, mundane. He'd heard the brilliant stories of people doing such crazy things when they knew they were going to die, living their final hours to the fullest. And, yet, here he was, laying in bed. He supposed, though, that he'd already done his living. He'd been around the world more times than he could count, he'd swam with dolphins, he'd dived into the ocean from a dangerously high cliff. He'd fallen in love and gotten married. He had a beautiful family in a beautiful home where he never had to want for anything. He knew his privilege gave him a lovely life, one that left no questions of what if once he knew it was going to end. He had no regrets - not really, not anything serious. Little things, maybe, like he wished he'd spent more time in grade school enjoying himself rather than worrying about the future. He wished he knew Ashton earlier. He wished he'd told his dad off the last time he saw him. Overall, though, he was pleased with his life and everything he'd done. That didn't mean, however, that he was ready to leave it all behind.

Sighing, Harry slid out of Louis' arms, making sure he hadn't woken him before letting his feet hit the floor and wander over to the window. It really was a pretty night with snow sprinkling the ground, even if it was trapping them all there when god knows they would've loved to leave, even if just to take a drive. He was fine with staying locked up all day but the kids, they didn't have his life. They didn't have all of his wonderful memories. They should've been out there making those memories while they still could. He supposed it was just their luck to get snowed in on their last day.

Harry's eyes wandered over the property, all the way out to the treeline, the green all but covered by the snow. The trees had been the reason he bought this land in the first place. It was secluded, safe. There were no prying eyes, no cameras hiding from behind the gates, no people waiting to catch him at his worst. He'd done that whole ordeal as a teenager, when his mum married his step-dad, the CEO of some several billion dollar company. The headlines for the following months were scarring, tearing apart every piece of him until he learned how to behave in front of the media. Then, when he was finally somewhere near comfortable with the whole thing, his step-dad died and left the company to, of all people, Harry. The headlines were worse after that and he decided he didn't want to deal with it. He didn't need to deal with it. He and Louis eloped and went off the grid. Harry did his job well, but he did it in private and, well, he didn't give a fuck what people thought about that. He was done reading the news, done reading comments and counting likes, done with everything that didn't matter to him. All that really mattered in the end was his family and providing for his family, which he did. That was more than enough to satisfy him.

The moon shone brightly for being hidden behind the clouds and Harry had the fleeting thought that he'd be happy to die staring at it. It was beautiful and calming. He could die peacefully knowing that the moon was still hanging in the sky. But then he made the mistake of looking down and any tranquility in his body evaporated.

"Louis," he hissed, the man in question waking with a start and looking over, wide-eyed. Harry pointed at the ground, perhaps a dozen or so meters from the house. Louis was immediately on his feet and rushing to stand beside him, taking on a similar rigid posture when he saw what Harry was staring at.

"How the fuck did he get in without setting off the alarms?" Louis cursed, putting a hand up to the window as he watched the scene below them intently.

Harry was furious, but, most of all, he was scared as he watched that bastard pedophile from next door - the only person to ever sneak in and ruin Harry's life of solitude - talking to his little brother. He started to leave the room, undoubtedly to go help, but was stopped by Louis' hand snapping onto his arm. He whirled back with a furrowed brow only to see the tension in Louis' shoulders had faded as he gestured outside. Harry closed the space between himself and the window, finding that, sure enough, Zayn was pushing Luke away. Ashton was safe.

Harry felt relief flood his whole body, adrenaline slowly beginning to wear off and exhaustion pulling at his bones. He exhaled heavily, wrapping his arms around Louis' neck and letting his head fall to rest on the man's shoulder.

"Thank God," he breathed, feeling Louis' hand float up and down his back. He could sense Louis still on alert, continuing to watch the window. He was glad for it because he didn't think he had it in him to do it himself. Minutes went by before Louis finally relaxed a bit.

"The kid ran off with Michael." Louis' voice made Harry's ears tickle as it vibrated in his chest. It was lighthearted and amused, and Harry could hear the smile in it, which, in turn, made him smile as well.

"You think he made a friend?"

Louis chuckled, beginning to lead himself and Harry back over to the bed. "I think he made a not-enemy." They laid down, Harry feeling a lot lighter than he had a moment ago, and held each other tight.

"Don't worry about him today," Louis whispered in Harry's ear, his hands finding their way into his hair and ringing through the curls. "Please, love, worry about yourself for once. He's got people looking after him. Let me look after you."

Harry wanted to argue, he wanted to say that it was his job to look after Ashton because the kid was his little brother. No one else could do the job better than him, after all. But Harry was just so tired and all he wanted was to stay with Louis, to lay on his chest and breathe in his cologne until he suffocated on it. And, with Louis whispering sweet nothings in his ear, Harry finally let himself drift off to sleep.