drowning on a dry land [ls]

Chapter 8: The drought was the very worst

It had been six weeks of no Harry and Louis couldn't be doing any worse. It wasn't the first time any of them had stormed out of the house, but usually would return before the crack of dawn. But after a month of not having Harry by his side, he has lost all hope of Harry coming back to him. Louis neither had the heart to block Harry's number nor he had the guts to dial his number and beg him to come back.

So he rots in his bed, yearning for the touch used to shape his dying day into something great.

Sleep had become foreign to him. All the endless nights, he stared at the star stickers on the ceiling, silent sobs escaped his lips until he passed out. Waking up alone, woke him up from the delusion that the daylight heals everything. It took everything in him to get out of bed in the mornings, he guesses this might have something to do with the fact that he feels dead inside.

It took him more than a month to walk into their garden again. All those flowers they had planted together had the same warming glow that left him blushing when Harry called him his petal. All of the flowers looked the same, all except the peonies.

The whole bunch of thornless roses had wilted. It's ruffled and abundant petals were all crippled. Its delicious scent had faded away. Louis hadn't watered it since a few months.

It died of thirst

The flowers that they'd grown together had died of thirst.

This was their favorite flower here. The both of them had gone to dozens of flower shops before they found the one that had the flower in the shade they wanted. They mulched it together while Harry lectured him about the importance of dividing so that the flowers don't compete for nutrition due to overcrowding. Louis wanted to say something that made him feel seen, so he shyly declared that the peonies were the embodiment of love at first sight. They had both gagged at the cheesiness but then kissed on the patio anyway.

A majestic symbol of lasting love, prosperity and a happy life, had wilted away. Louis chuckled bitterly at how befitting it was to the story of him and Harry.

Maybe it was just mirroring his heart now that Harry couldn't anymore.

He returns from work and finds himself sitting on the grass in their garden with a bottle of wine in his hands. If only one could drown in their misery their love had brought upon them. The evening bleeds into a dark night. Louis drags his body back to bed and selfishly wishes that Harry is missing him too.

༺❀༻

Harry kept having dreams about the day. He kept fighting with Louis in his sleep.

In a version where the fight ended with Harry kissing Louis passionately and then getting down on his knees, right then and there, he finds peace.

It's not like he doesn't want to marry Louis. It has to be him. Nobody compares to the boy. Louis is so the person for him, yet he lets himself drown in the whispers of his ghosts.

A few years into their relationship, Louis and he had their first big argument over their shared flat. In all honesty, Harry had been the one who was giving him hell for two months straight and the storm was just around the corner. Harry was testing his patience and when he couldn't succeed, he lashed out and said something very hurtful to Louis- as soon as he said that he wished that he could chew back his words, even if it felt like the sharpest of glass in his mouth.

Louis' eyes pierced through Harry's soul as he stood quiet for a second. Harry was darn sure that it was quiet before Louis told him that he was worthless and walked out on him.

"Oh, really Harry?" there was venom in his voice. "You know, let's call it even, I was the boy your darling Evan kissed two seconds after typing the breakup message."

Louis stood tall in front of him, savoring the taste of having emerged victorious in the fight.

That was before he saw tears roll down Harry's cheek. "Baby," the man called to him but he was inconsolable as he shut the door behind himself. Louis knew that running after him would have only made it worse. So, he decided to give Harry some time to cool off.

He found him curled up on the couch, there were tear stains on his shirt and Louis hated himself for being the reason.

Harry woke up with Louis spooning him on that very couch with Louis' legs awkwardly dangling outwards and his right hand on his waist. He just knew that his left hand must have gone numb from being slotted under Harry's head. He felt soft lips being pressed to his neck. He tried to turn around, only to let himself be pushed against Louis' back.

"Honey, I'm gonna fall off the couch... just move a little oh, yeah it's perfect now," He smiled when Harry plopped himself between Louis' spread legs and rested his head on his chest.

"Harry, are you alright?" Louis ran his fingers through his curls. His left hand was still fisted behind his shoulder. Yeah he must be having that needles and pins sensation t-

"I'm alright." Harry declared, interwinning his fingers with a fretful Louis and letting him cup his face.

"We never take that wanker's name again. NEVER!" He said before slipping his hand under Harry's sweatshirt and feverishly kissing him. All his broken parts mended the moment their lips met.

With his stomach growing more and more closer to recoiling, he kept walking with his head held up high. He willed himself away from leaving when the first knock went unanswered. He took a deep breath and calmed himself. After three knocks on the door, a familiar face was seen. Harry mustered all the courage he had in himself to extend his hand towards the man.

The man grinned at him before enveloping him in a bone-crushing hug. "Hello, Harry!" He kissed his cheek.

"Hello, Evan," he freed himself from the embrace of the blond man. "I wanted to talk to you about something."