From Everything That Was (Till Everything That Will Be)

Before (Past)

I fear the worst, but how could you leave us all behind?
There's so much to say but there's so little time
- How Do I Say Goodbye, Dean Lewis

Brown bricks. That's what Louis thought about when he thought about his grandfather's house. A big square pile of brown bricks that had a few holes for doors and windows, and inside a labyrinth of rooms and stairs.

When he thought about it, he did not ever, not even in his wildest imaginations, ever imagine it to be a home. At least not his. But it was now.

He stood on the pavement outside the property, looking up at the building. Two stories with a large attic, and a large garden behind it. Tendrils crawled up the side of the house, rose bushes lining the terrace at the front of the building.

It was a pretty house, well-kept, but Louis didn't want to live there. He wanted to return to Manchester. To his Mom's and Dad's apartment on the corner of the street. Most of all he just wanted his dad. He wanted the summer to start over, and then he would make sure things were different so he didn't have to stand here, looking at a house that wasn't his. He wanted to go back to a time when he wasn't fatherless.

Louis closed his eyes, breathing deeply. Maybe, as he had wished it to be so many times before, it was just a nightmare, and his father would come wake him up for school. He would smile at him, tickle his sides, and say, "Wake up, my boy."

It wasn't a nightmare.

It was a daymare. It followed him in his awake hours, using the name of reality as a cover. He hated it.

Someone placed a hand on his shoulder, and, startled, Louis looked up at the person behind him. It was his grandfather. His hair was greying, his age no more than fifty-five. He was smiling warmly, the sun casting the rest of his features in shadows.

"What are you standing here for, Louis? We need to get your boxes inside."

Louis looked behind them to where the moving truck was standing. His mother was standing in the back of it, taking out a box.

He pursed his lips. "Big apologies, Grandpa, but I don't want to."

His grandfather sighed. "I know." He crouched down so he was on eye level with Louis. "I know you just wanna be home, but you also know that isn't possible right now, so instead of trying to think of all the negative things, try and look at the positive sides. You're gonna be sleeping in an attic. How cool is that?"

Louis huffed, looking down. "I don't want an attic."

His grandfather sighed. "I know. Is there anything I can do for you?"

Louis shook his head, refraining from saying Can you bring back my father?

"Alright, but please, help with the boxes, yeah? We can go get some ice cream later."

Reluctantly, Louis nodded.

* * *

The attic was... big. That was all Louis could use to describe it as of now. It had sloping ceilings, and one big round window letting sunlight stream inside. When he looked out, he could see the whole front yard.

It wasn't as cold as he had expected it to be, nor were there rats. There was a radiator, and the walls were white. And it was clean. Louis knew his grandfather had before used it as a reading space—and junk space, but reading space sounded more... unmessy.

It was cosy in its own way, Louis could admit that, but he couldn't imagine living his life in the big, empty attic. It wouldn't continue to stay empty. Soon they would carry up boxes, and they would get to work on collecting his bed. No, it would soon be full of stuff, but to Louis, it would always be lacking something. He was sure of it.