Quiet { H S } ✓

1.00 ; mortality.

“Hazza! I’m home!”

“Where is he?”

“Um, I’m not sure. He’s supposed to be here. He didn’t have anything planned for today, as far as I know.”

“Well, then where is he?”

“I just said I don’t know. You guys wait here. I’ll go check upstairs.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“Alright. C’mon then, Lou.”

. . .

“Harry? Babe, are you here?”

“Maybe he went out.”

“I already told you, he didn’t have anything—oh, wait, there he is. In the bed.”

“Is he sleeping?”

“Looks like it. Harry, baby, wake up. We need to talk to you.”

“Try shaking him.”

“Okay... He’s still sleeping.”

. . .

“Is he okay?”

“I don’t know.”

. . .

“Check his pulse.”

“I don’t want to.”

. . .

“Scout, I... I don’t think he’s breathing.”

“No. Fuck you. He is.”

“Love, h-he’s not moving.”

“He’s just sleeping, Louis.”

. . .

“Maybe we should just let him rest for a while. We can try again later. He’s just tired.”

“S-Scout, I don’t—”

“Hey, what’s taking so long?”

“Oh. Hey, guys. Harry’s just taking a nap. He’s tired.”

. . .

“Is he okay?”

“His chest isn’t moving...”

“None of him is moving, Niall...”

“Guys, just shut the fuck up. He’s fine.”

“Scout, he looks—”

“Get out. Get the fuck out of here.”

“Babe—”

“GET OUT. I don’t want you here.”

. . .

“Louis, stop! Get away from him! You’re going to wake him up! You’re going to—”

. . .

“Scout, he doesn’t h-have a pulse...”

“No. He’s fine. Aren’t you, Harry?”

. . .

“Harry, wake up. Show them all that you’re okay.”

“He’s not... You said it yourself. He wasn’t okay before and he’s definitely not okay now...”

“You’re wrong. He’s going to wake up and be back to his stupid, mopey self again and he’ll yell at me again and he’ll get mad at me again and we’ll fight again and I’ll forgive him again because I forgive him every time, because I fucking love him, I love him so much, and he has to wake up, Niall, he has to.”

. . .

“Scout, touch his neck. There’s no pulse. He’s not... Breathing. His heart... His heart isn’t beating. Feel.”

“No, I don’t want to. Stop moving my hand. Let me go. I don’t want to, Zayn! Louis, stop crying! There’s nothing to cry about. He’s fine.”

“Scout—”

“He’s. Fine. Y’know what, he’s probably just faking it. He’s probably just pretending to be asleep now because he’s an arse and he knows we’re freaking out and he’s so beautiful, why is he so fucking beautiful, Liam?”

“I... I don’t know, Scout...”

“Why are you all crying? Stop crying. This can’t be happening. Just please stop. Make it stop. Make him wake up, guys, please, I’m begging you. This isn’t funny, Harry.”

“Of course it’s not fucking funny! Our best friend, your boyfriend, is fucking gone!”

“Shut up, Zayn! Fucking get out of here, all of you!”

“Scout, he’s—”

“Don’t say it, Liam.”

“Dead.”

. . .

. . .

. . .

“Scout, come here. It’s okay, you can cry...”

“This can’t be happening, Lou. Why is this happening?”

“I... I don’t know. Th-This shouldn’t be happening...”

“Please, this has to be a joke.”

“Love, I wish with every fiber of my being that this was a joke. Feel for yourself, would you? Look at him. Do you see him? Do you see it now?”

. . .

“He’s dead. Fuck, he’s dead. I don’t want him to be dead. I want him here! With me. With us. How could he do this? How could he fucking do this to me?”

“He was... Broken. That much is clear...”

“I told you we should have done more to help, Louis, I fucking told you! If you all had listened from the very beginning, he might still be here right now! He might—still—”

“I-I know, okay? I know! Shit, this is all my fucking fault!”

“Mate, it’s all of our fault. All of us here are to blame for this.”

“We should’ve done more. W-We should’ve—”

“Shh, come here, Niall.”

“Li, why is this happening?”

“I-I don’t know, Nialler...”

“What are we supposed to do now? What are we supposed to tell people? Jesus Christ, what about the fans? All the Directioners? The whole fucking world?”

“We’ll tell them the truth.”

“Which is?”

. . .

“He was suffering. We saw it, we all did, and we ignored it. And because of it, we’ve lost a best friend, a boyfriend, a son, a brother, an incredible, talented, cheeky lad. We’ve... We've lost Harry.”

. . .

“The truth is we were too late. And now... Now he’s... H-He’s...”

. . .

“Gone.”